Dead River (13 page)

 24

DENSE THISTLE BUSHES scraped along the sides of the two sheriff cars as they crept down the dirt road. Four deputies, two in each car, cringed from the shrill squeals. The tires bounced in and out of the potholes that riddled the beaten path, rattling the cars and tossing the deputies about.

Four other deputies stayed behind. They staked out at the entrance to the makeshift road. After several minutes, two of the deputies who had been crouching at the entrance slowly rose and headed for the boarded-up house. Once inside, they inspected each room with their guns and flashlights drawn. They swept away cobwebs, and slowly stepped over crushed beer cans and empty fast-food bags, the hardwood floors creaked from their weight. The old house was abandoned.

After twenty minutes passed, the two deputies remaining at the entrance to the dirt road spotted a flickering light. The glint moved around in an eerie fashion. They drew their nine-millimeter Berettas. As the flashing light approached they lowered their weapons.

It was one of the deputies that had driven down the road, walking toward them with a flashlight. He got closer and shouted, “We found her!”

The two men looked at each other and then back toward the flickering light. The outline of the large man became clearer. He stepped in a pothole and stumbled.

“Shit!”

“Is she alive?” one of the deputies at the entrance yelled back.

“She’s dead, and alone!” he cried out.

“Did you call it in?”

“Yup, sure did.”

The bulky deputy finally made it to the clearing where the two deputies stood waiting for more details. He lowered his flashlight but left it on. Then he pointed it down the narrow path. “Jesus Christ, who ever did that back there is a sick bastard.”

“What’s the condition of the body?” one of the other deputies asked.

“Not good. Looks like she’s been out there for about three or four days. We found her near the bank of a narrow creek. No clothes on the body except a white top. Looks like her hands were tied together. She has cuts around her wrists.”

“Raped?”

“Don’t know, but probably was. There’s something strange, though.”

“What’s that?”

“She was face down when we found her, with a deep gouge around her neck.”

“Strangled, eh?”

“I’m sure she was. But what’s weird is when we rolled her over her forehead was caked with dried blood.”

“He cut her up too?”

“Sort of. It looks like three letters are carved into her forehead.”

“No shit! What are they?”

“Couldn’t tell, too much blood. But the middle one looked to me like an X.”

 25

ADAM PACED the living room while Valerie and Dawn sat on the edge of the couch. Two hours had passed since he’d received the phone call from the man with the metallic voice that gave detailed directions to where Sara Ann could be found. What the hell’s going on?

Carillo’s cell phone rang. Whirring adrenaline started deep in Adam’s gut and surged throughout his body, setting off a hammering pulse in his chest.

“Carillo.”

A long silence.

“You did . . .? Are you sure?”

Another long silent moment.

“Was he there . . .? Damn.” Carillo glanced at Adam. “Okay, I’ll tell them.”

Adam stood next to the equipment table staring down at Carillo. “Tell us what?” he demanded.

Carillo rubbed his bald head and cleared his throat.

“What is it?” Adam shouted.

“I’m afraid there’s bad news,” Carillo said.

“What?” Adam shouted again.

“Oh God, no,” Valerie screamed.

Dawn sat in silence.

Carillo cleared his throat again. “Sara Ann was found dead,” he finally said.

Valerie shrieked so loudly that Carillo had to cover his ears. “No! It can’t be her!”

Dawn jumped up from the couch with her hands planted on the top of her head and spun in circles. Her agonizing moans reverberated in the room.

Waves of panic burst through Adam, shooting to the core of his soul, leaving him weak and numb. The room was spinning, and his body was heaving with fear. “Are they sure it’s Sara Ann?” Adam bellowed. “It’s dark out. Maybe it’s another girl. Maybe they just thought it was Sara Ann.”

Carillo stood and faced Adam. “Yes, they’re sure. The deputies have a photo of her. They were able to make a positive identification.”

“Did they find the man?”

“No.”

The fear that gripped Adam only seconds earlier shifted to deep rage. “He said he’d be waiting,” he forced out.

“I know, but there was no one else out there.”

There was a thud from across the room. Adam and Carillo turned to see Valerie on the floor her chest heaving, gasping for air. Dawn was at her side.

“She’s hyperventilating,” Carillo said. He turned to Adam. “You need to get a paper bag.”

Adam rifled through kitchen cabinets until he found a small brown bag. He rushed back to the living room and knelt beside Valerie.

“Here, Val, breathe into this.”

She took the bag, put it to her mouth, and began inhaling and exhaling. The bag repeatedly expanded and collapsed. Its crackle sounded like fallen autumn leaves being crushed under a heavy jackboot.

Goldman’s phone was ringing. The sleep-induced fog slowly melted away, and the clanging of the phone finally registered. He rolled over and checked the alarm clock. It was eleven fifty-two.

“Goldman here. It better be important.”

“This is Detective Wilkerson. Actually, it’s very important.”

“What the hell is it?”

“Sara Ann Riley’s dead. Her body was found around ten-thirty.”

“Ten-thirty! Why the hell wasn’t I notified immediately?”

“I thought Rob Averly would call you.”

“Goddamn problem is you don’t think. Son-of-a-bitch. Were you two at the scene?”

“We were. I got there before him. He just now asked me to give you a call.”

“Who the hell you think has the lead on this case?”

“You.”

“That’s right, me. I don’t care if I’m here in Florida or working out of Virginia. I’m still in charge.”

“I got it.”

“You’d better,” Goldman snarled. “Where was the body found?”

“Scottsmoor. It’s a small town north of Titusville, off U.S. One. Her body was found in the woods, near a creek.”

“Where’s the body now?”

“It’s been released to the medical examiner.”

“Where’s it going and who’s the medical examiner?”

“It’s going to the Cape Canaveral Hospital. Dr. Harold Albright is the Brevard County M.E. But—”

“But what?”

“Albright won’t do the autopsy until tomorrow.”

“I figured that. When?”

“In the morning at nine.”

“There’s something else you should know.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I arrived at the scene, they were bringing her body out of the woods. I wanted to see the condition of the body, so I took a look.”

“And?”

“There’s something carved on the girl’s forehead.”

“Go on.”

“A couple of us determined there are three letters carved into her skin.”

“What are they?”

“CXJ.”

Goldman’s plans had now changed. He stared at the carry-on bag he had packed just before going to bed. There would be no flight back to Quantico tomorrow morning.

He pulled the sheets up to his chest and flipped the light off. What’s CXJ? What could it mean? Sleep didn’t come, only thoughts about how everything had changed. There’s a killer out there. He knew he’d kill again soon, very soon if not caught. And she would be young, blond, and pretty.

 26

AS ADAM RILEY APPROACHED the large glass doors at the entrance to Cape Canaveral Hospital, one of them automatically opened. A volunteer at the main building’s front desk gave him directions to the back of the first floor.

In the northeast corner Adam found the morgue. The entrance was a single door with no window. He saw a button and speaker on the wall to the left of the door with a sign above it: Push Button to Enter.

Adam depressed the button. Nothing happened. Several seconds went by, and then he heard a high-pitched voice from the speaker. “Yes, who is it?”

“Adam Riley.”

“Oh yes. Come in, Mr. Riley. Yes indeed.”

A loud buzz sounded, and the door-lock snapped. Adam pulled the door open and stepped into a waiting room. Seconds later a diminutive man with thick black-framed glasses appeared. He had dark hair that fell over his ears and was parted down the middle.

“Hi. I’m Darrell Bloomfield,” the man said. “I’m the diener.”

Adam nodded. He assumed the diener was some sort of assistant, like a morgue technician.

Bloomfield led Adam into a large room with white walls. A sickening smell instantly hit Adam like a large wave, and a nauseous tide followed. He recognized some of the odors, but it was the mixture that made them repulsive. It seemed to be an amalgamation of some type of astringent cleaner, the odor of formaldehyde he recalled from his high school biology class years ago, and an unknown smell. Oh God, I want this over with.

Adam slowly gazed around the room. It was eerie and cold. There were exposed pipes crisscrossing in the ceiling, resembling an urban freeway interchange. The tile floor had several drains, and the air was chilled well below normal room temperature. There were three large, two-tier, stainless-steel tables in the middle of the room. Adam stared at them for several moments feeling like he was somewhere far away, almost anesthetized.

In the back of the room, on the left, he saw Goldman, Averly, Wilkerson, and two other men he didn’t recognize. One held a camera. They were gathered in front of a white folding table with several neatly-spaced chairs. Wilkerson gnawed on a toothpick, Averly removed his glasses and rubbed his ruby-red face, and Goldman talked to the other two men. None of the men acknowledged Adam’s presence.

“Mr. Riley, I’m Dr. Harold Albright, the county medical examiner.”

Adam shook the hand of a gray-haired man in baggy blue scrubs and a matching surgery cap. He wore thick glasses and had ears that seemed too large for his head. “When do I see my daughter’s body so I can get out of here?”

“Right now. Follow me.”

Adam followed behind Albright and Bloomfield. They walked around the three large stainless-steel tables and stopped at the back of the room before an array of three rows of five stainless-steel doors mounted in the wall. Each door had black stick-on numbers.

Both Albright and Bloomfield approached the far right door in the middle row with the number ten. Albright took out a ring of keys from his pocket. Adam kept his distance. He noticed the only door with a padlock was the one they were about to unlock. Albright handed the keys to Bloomfield, who in turn unlocked the door and slid the lock off, hanging it on his belt loop with the keys still dangling from the padlock. The two men then stood on either side of the cooler door. Albright turned toward Adam.

“Are you ready to view the body, Mr. Riley?”

Adam felt nauseous. He could feel sweat starting to flow from every pore in his warm skin, and his legs felt rubbery.

“I think—I think I am,” Adam answered. He held up his right hand. “Please give me a minute.”

“Sure, take your time.”

Adam turned around with this back to the two men, put his hands on his hips, and threw his head back. He took two deep breaths.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Riley,” Albright suggested.

Adam said nothing. He took one more deep breath, turned around to face the men, and finally said, “Okay.”

Bloomfield opened the door and began sliding out a large tray with a white vinyl bag on it. Adam stood beside Albright and closed his eyes. He could feel the cold air flowing from the refrigerated storage. He heard the ripping sound of a zipper.