Daddy's Little Killer (37 page)

Orion was right about one thing.  This
had become a vast game of cat and mouse.  My suspicion was
that I came onto the perp's radar via Rodney Martin too.  It
put him in the unique position of being the only person who knew
the identity of this man.  Varden and Kelly couldn't be
persuaded to cooperate.  They were used to playing dirty and
keeping their mouths shut.

I made my way to the tomb-like lobby at
central.  Simms heard my shoes clacking on the stairs and
looked up.  His face broke into a grin.  "Hey,
Eriksson.  Are you back on active duty again?"

"Yeah, Rudy, I'm back.  Although I
wasn't aware the world at large knew I'd been under the
weather."

"Are you kidding?  You've been the
number two topic of conversation around here this week."

"I'm not sure if I should be worried or
flattered by that.  What's been number one, just out of
curiosity?"

Rudy lowered his voice.  "This thing
with Captain Martin.  Have they asked you to help with the
search?"

I shook my head.  "I'm sure you know
more about what's happening than I do.  But that's not why I
came to see you this morning."

"Right, that question you had for me the
other night.  I asked Benny about your visitors.  He said
he saw a couple of guys that matched the description you gave me
come in here that evening.  They took the elevator upstairs
somewhere."

"Were you aware that both my office and
Captain Martin's were broken into that night?"

"I heard about his.  Part of the buzz
over his disappearance."

"I wonder if that event is related. 
Have you heard anything?"

"Yeah, that Captain Martin's house was a
mess.  They found blood but don't know if it belongs to Rodney
yet.  When they determined that it was foul play, Chief Lowe
said he was putting his best men on the job."

"So that's why Rogers, Daltry and Myre were
here late last night?"

"Uh-huh.  Chief Lowe too.  Benny
said he can't remember the last time he saw Lowe here that
late.  And Benny's been here for twenty some years."

"Interesting."

"Do you think something bad really happened
to Captain Martin?"

"I wouldn't rule it out, Rudy.  Did you
happen to mention to anyone other than Benny that I asked about the
men who were hear the night our offices were broken into?"

"I guess we probably should tell somebody …
not that you aren't somebody.  I only meant –"

"Rogers, Daltry or Myre," I offered an
understanding smile.  "My case is actually wrapping up
quickly.  I'll let them know about it Rudy.  Thanks so
much for your help.  I do appreciate it."

"I should tell you that Benny thought he
recognized those guys," Rudy said.  "He wasn't positive or
anything, but remembered a case a long time ago where two men were
accused of roughing up a couple of workers at the docks for
opposing the unionization efforts at the time."

"Oh?"  My heart skipped a beat.

"Kelly and Varden, I think he said. 
Benny said they worked for the union to silence opposition. 
He figured that he had to be wrong.  I mean, what would a
couple of union roughnecks be doing nosing around here,
right?  Captain Martin wasn't exactly the type to discourage
the cops from having union representation."

"Right.  Probably a mistake."  I
knew better.  Someone had hired the pair because they had no
scruples.  I changed my mind about the likelihood of their
cooperation.  Benny's identification would be enough to bring
them in for questions about breaking and entering.  And the
attempted abduction of me in Washington could be addressed at the
same time.  I asked Rudy to turn in the department's phone and
immediately replaced it with a new prepaid from a little shop next
door to Central Division.

I considered calling David back and letting
him deal with that issue.  Federal pressure might be exactly
what Varden and Kelly needed.  It sure had induced them to
lose interest in what I was doing.

Instead of meeting Charlie upstairs, I made
my way to the parking garage.  I had a spare set of keys to
the rental in my purse and needed to follow a lead or two of my
own.  First, I needed to visit the crime lab and talk to
Forsythe about the keys.  The fact that Varden and Kelly
normally worked for the union's interests and the number one name
in unions back east was always a crime family (like Sully Marcos),
it wasn't a stretch to believe that Datello might know something
about Kelly and Varden.

I couldn't get past the safe keys that were
found at Gwen Foster's home.  Forsythe probably wouldn't like
it, but I needed to check those keys out of evidence for a couple
of hours.  Hopefully he was back from the Blevins crime
scene.

Crime Scene Division shared space with the
Bay County Coroner's office.  Maya had the upper two levels of
the building and Forsythe's domain was a ground level basement and
an additional sub-level. 

I met Forsythe almost immediately after I
stepped off the elevator.  Unlike entry to the morgue, all I
needed to do for CSD was show my badge.

"Hey, I thought Maya said you were home
resting."

"I woke up.  I need a favor,
Forsythe."

"We're kinda swamped right now,
Eriksson.  I'll do my best, but unless this is another crime
scene, it probably isn't a great time to shift gears again."

"The Blevins thing?"

"That and Rodney Martin's place.  We
were over there processing when the call came in on the other."

"I see.  Well, what I need won't
require much.  I'd like to check out a piece of evidence from
the Foster case."

"Oh?"

I nodded.  "I need those keys for a
couple of hours, Forsythe."

His eyes widened.  "Wow.  Are you
getting that close to a suspect that you think you'll find the
safe?"

"Maybe.  Do you mind?"

"No.  I'll take you down to evidence
storage right now."  Forsythe kept talking while we took the
stairs to the sub-level.  "So you already heard about
Martin?"

"Bits and pieces.  I'm not sure what's
true," I said.  "You know how central is."

"I expect that if we ever recover his body,
it'll be another homicide.  There was more than blood in his
house."

"Oh?"

"Gray matter. Interestingly enough, we found
two separate blood types, so the assumption is that we've got a
wounded assailant and a dead police captain. The opposite doesn't
seem likely since Martin surely would've called for help if he was
attacked."

"That's too bad.  I knew Rodney a long
time ago.  We hadn't had a chance to reconnect before he
disappeared.  I spoke to him briefly the morning after the
Foster crime scene.  What was that, Wednesday?  It feels
like weeks ago instead of days."

"Tell me about it.  This has been one
for the record books.  I don't remember the last time that CSD
was this busy with major cases.  Two dismemberments and a
missing and presumed dead police captain all in one week.  It
sort of reminds me of that Christmas back when we lost an ADA, the
chief of detectives and the guy who killed the ADA in a matter of a
couple of weeks.  Craziness."

I gripped Forsythe's arm.  "You think
Chief McNamara's death was related to that somehow?"

"No, as I recall he died of natural causes,
but you know what they say about people dying in threes. 
Hopefully we've had our three for awhile again."

The murder rate in Darkwater Bay didn't
support Forsythe's theory.  I recognized he referred to high
profile crimes, not the typical stuff CSD saw. 

"Hey, Mary.  Dr. Eriksson needs to sign
out some evidence from the Foster case.  You mind if I take
her back?"

"Be my guest."  She offered a toothy
smile.

Forsythe entered a large cage with a key on
his ring and weaved through long rows of shelves housing evidence
that had not yet made its way into a courtroom.  It seemed
like a bit much.

"Ken, why is there so much evidence down
here?"

"Huh?"

"Do you store this indefinitely?"

He shook his head.  "Only until cases
are called up for prosecution."  His eyes roved over the
massive space.  "Guess this does look bad, doesn't it? 
Not for lack of effort from CSD.  Have you met our ADA
yet?"

"No.  Is he part of the problem around
here too?"

"Zack Carpenter does the best he can with
the cases handed to him.  The evidence down here mostly
represents open cases or those Zack can't even present to a grand
jury because the investigations weren't up to modern
standards."

"And this is all from Central Division?"

"Mostly.  There are a few from other
areas, but I'd say less than two percent."

"Nice."

"Here we go," Forsythe said.  He slid
the portable staircase to the shelving and locked the wheels. 
"Foster is on the top shelf.  That's how the system out here
has evolved over the years.  Oldest stuff is at the bottom,
and we've sort of worked our way up.  I've been meaning to
reorganize the system for a couple of years but haven't found time
to get around to it."

He came back down with a
box marked
Foster, G.
, and the date of the crime.  "It should be in
here.  Shall we?"

I pulled the lid off and started shuffling
through the contents of the box.  "Is there another box up
there, Ken?  I can't find the keys in here."

Forsythe was frowning.  "I can see
that.  Mary?" he yelled.  "Has anybody been in here today
besides CSD?"

"Uh … last night, yeah.  The chief came
over with a couple of detectives to check in some papers they
collected from Captain Martin's house."

Forsythe stared at me.  "You don't
suppose."

"Flynn Myre knew about the keys."

"Yeah, but he didn't know what we can
accomplish with a photograph."

"What do you mean?"

"I can reproduce those keys if you really
need them, Helen.  We've got digital photographs of both of
them.  A simple key like those won't be hard to cut. 
Hell, regular house keys have been reproduced from a good digital
photograph before."

"How long will it take you to make
them?"

"We'll do it right now."

Chapter 35

Before Forsythe put the box of evidence back
on the shelf, I slipped Gwen Foster's access card to Datello's
office building into my palm.  He didn't notice.  Since
dawn was too light for an unnoticed visit to Datello's office, I
told Ken that I'd be back later to pick up the keys and went
shopping at a 24-hour Walmart.

My wardrobe was still a problem.  Even
though I now had all of my clothes back in my possession, a rainbow
of pastels is hardly appropriate for a stealth visit to essentially
break into a building without a warrant.  Besides, I missed
black and gray. A discount store was good enough for the
basics.

Darkwater proper offered a variety of cheap
motels along the main drag through the city.  Rather than go
to my house where no doubt Charlie and others would look for me, I
checked into a place that offered me hourly or weekly rates. 
Lovely.

The shag carpeting was frayed and worn, and
probably once a vibrant shade of late 1960s orange.  Now it
was muted by decades of filth and stain.  The table and chair
were the necessary items in the room, and wi-fi. 

I started going over the records I
uncovered, remembering my theory that my perp's psychopathy and its
steadfast adherence to one ritual indicated that he might be
reliving his first kill.  Carrie's assault was only seven
years ago.  The tale she told didn't include any
distinguishing features that pointed to my suspect being completely
elderly.  He couldn't have been very old at the time of his
first kill.

Considering the initial age range I gave
Hardy and Weber on Wednesday, I did a mental calculation.  It
was conceivable that the perp had been within the typical age range
for serial crimes when the first was committed.  I needed to
figure out who that first victim could've been.

My list of missing girls was extensive, and
stretched back thirty years.  "Fifty now would make him twenty
at the time of the first missing girl."

I started sifting through the list of names
carefully this time.  I divided it into cases where photos of
the missing girls had been included in the files and those
without.  The older cases were problematic.  Many were
missing the pictures.  I made marks on the pages with
twenty-five to thirty year dates to color code those with photos
and those without.

On the bottom of page two, I found several
marked "resolved".  Further digging revealed that either the
girls returned home or the families had awaited the allotted time
required by law to have their children declared legally dead. 
A new color for my sorting system entered the scheme.

By the time I reached the last page of the
oldest missing person's cases on record, my vision was starting to
blur.  I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand by the
bed.  Five twenty.  I'd been at this for far too
long.  My stomach rumbled.

"Patience.  I'll grab a bite before I
stake out Datello's office."

I had made a couple of trips to the outdoor
vending machines throughout the day for caffeine – namely Coke
Zero.  Even though my room had a small coffee maker, the
disposable cups weren't wrapped in plastic.  God only knew how
many times they'd been reused.

The last can of soda had half a swallow of
tepid, flat syrup in it.  I downed it and rubbed my
eyes.  A name half way down the last page of my list jumped
out when I refocused on the screen.

Gwen Bennett.

"What the hell?"  I checked the
date.  Thirty two years ago.  Had Gwen Foster been
abducted as a todler too?  It didn't fit the … date of birth
leapt off the screen.  "Oh my God.  Case
resolved."