Experiment in Terror (Koehler Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

Matt was connected to him immediately. Before he could say anything, Heller asked how the disguise had turned out.

“You won’t even recognize me,” Matt assured him. “I did have a question, though. I neglected to ask you where I should park my car. I won’t be able to feed a meter and I don’t want to get it towed.”

“Meet me at my office at six in the morning and we’ll put a sticker on it and park it in our garage. I want your assignment kept strictly confidential.”

It was hard telling who the killer might know and if someone let something slip, the killer could be long gone.

“We’ll see how good your disguise is when you come to the police station in the morning,” Heller joked.

Matt laughed as he hung up the phone. He was sure the Police Chief was going to be surprised when he saw him. He could only be identified by his slate-gray eyes and his height. Even his dark hair was covered by a dirty, stringy dishwater-blond wig.

He went into a storage room to find his sleeping bag. He’d sleep in it on his bedroom floor. Good practice for the next two weeks.

Later, as he went into his bathroom, he gave himself a start as he caught a glimpse in the mirror. For a minute, he thought someone else was in the room with him.

Matt drove to Boulder and arrived at the police department a few minutes before six the next morning. He locked his wallet along with his ID in the glove box. He entered the quiet building and proceeded down to Heller’s office. He was pleased to see the look on the chief’s face when he entered.

“You’re right,” Heller said, staring at him. “If I hadn’t been expecting you, I wouldn’t have known it was you.”

“Check out this beard and wig. I’ve studied them closely in the mirror and you wouldn’t even know it wasn’t my real hair.”

The chief stood to have a closer look.

“This is totally amazing,” he said, as he peered up at Matt’s face.

“You should have seen his shop. He had stuff for making every disguise imaginable. We were certainly lucky he was at home. As I thought, he’s doing this free of charge. His contribution to catching the Boulder Creek Killer.”

“Give him my thanks,” Heller said. “Now let me have the keys to your car and I’ll park it in our garage. Probably not a good idea for you to be seen driving that nice car of yours. Someone might report it as a theft.”

Matt handed over his keys. “I’ve locked my wallet with my ID in the glove box.”

“Do you want me to put them in the safe?”

“Good idea. Walk out with me, and I’ll head on over to the meeting place where the homeless men are after you give me directions on how to get there.”

They left, and Carl soon pointed to the bike path running along the side of the city building.

“Turn to your left on the path. It’ll take you through a tunnel under Broadway Avenue, through a small park, and through another narrow tunnel under Arapaho Street. When you come up out of the second tunnel, you’ll see a stone bench and a water fountain off to the left. That’s the homeless men’s meeting place when they come down from the shelter in the morning. But they won’t be there until shortly after eight.”

Matt nodded his understanding “I’ll be in touch,” he told him, grabbing his sleeping bag off the passenger seat.

“Good luck,” the chief said. .

Matt moved slowly down the path, looking for a place to stow his sleeping bag. He didn’t want to carry it around with him all day, but he didn’t want it found by some city maintenance personnel and tossed into the trash. His cousin had given him a beat-up watch to wear in place of his Rolex. He glanced at it now, curious as to when he could expect the group of homeless men to show up.

The chief had told him the men had to be out of the shelter by eight so he figured he had more than an hour to wait. He’d use the time to become familiar with the bike path. He inhaled the crisp September air. After sticking his sleeping bag behind the stone bench, he headed back the way he had come. The library was a long building built over Boulder Creek. When he saw the front doors on the north end of the library, the paved trail veered off to the left and ran alongside the creek.

Yellow tape stretched across the path and down the bank to the water. He didn’t cross it, but studied the area from outside the tape. He decided to walk around the library and examine the path from the other side.

He strolled over to Canyon Street and up to the intersection where he turned left and then back to the path. He went as far down the path beside the library as he could before he ran into another strip of yellow tape.

Matt could see why a killer might choose this area. The side of the path opposite the creek was bordered by a mass of heavy bushes along one wall of the library. All three bodies had been found between the path and the creek. Not in the bushes. If he had raped and killed them in the bushes, why would he have drug their bodies into the open where they would be easily spotted?

Had the killer attacked them in this area as they went to the library from some rental house on the hill, or had he brought the bodies here afterward? That didn’t seem logical. A dead body would be too heavy to carry. But why hadn’t anyone heard them screaming? Did the killer somehow cover their mouths so no one would hear them? Or were they unconscious?

There were so many unanswered questions. He stood there for a few more minutes in an attempt to get his mind into the head of the killer. When he glanced at his watch a while later, he was surprised at how much time had elapsed. After the library opened, he needed to use the pay phone inside and call the police chief.

Heller must not realize the area where the last body had been found was still cordoned off. If the killer was going to attack his next victim in the same area, the yellow tape needed to be removed. Wait. Instead of permitting another university student to be attacked, why couldn’t they use a police decoy?

Another reason to call the chief. If they didn’t have a woman available here in Boulder, he knew of one in Denver who would be happy to work with him on this case. Satisfied with that plan, he headed for the stone bench where he hoped to meet up with the group of homeless men.

Chapter 2

Amanda Barton glanced at her watch. If she was going to bike to her store, Creations For You, on the Pearl Street Mall in downtown Boulder, she had better get in gear.

She loved the Mall with its various stores and restaurants. Years previously, despite controversies relating to a lack of parking and disruption of businesses, the Boulder City Council passed a resolution to establish the Downtown Boulder Mall. The section of Pearl Street between 11th and 15th streets was closed to traffic and it became known as the Pearl Street Mall. Residents soon got used to driving a one-way loop around downtown in order to visit the businesses.

After that, long-standing buildings had been restored, and national and local historic designations made sure that the historic character of downtown Boulder would be maintained. Pearl Street had become the town’s cultural heart and soul.

She enjoyed riding her bike down the Boulder Creek Path, which was black topped like the city streets. She enjoyed the smooth ride, the sound of the water rushing over the rocks, the shadows from the leaf-laden trees, and the exhilaration that came from the morning breeze on her face.

After applying a light touch of makeup and darkening her eyelashes with black mascara, she went into the garage to get her bike. She lifted her helmet from the handlebars, set it on her head, her long blond hair hanging below it. She fastened the strap under her chin and slipped on her riding gloves.

Pushing her bike out of the garage, she ran the door down. She mounted her bike and rode away from her house, soon arriving at the Boulder Creek Path. She enjoyed all the curves and turns the path made as it followed the topography of the creek. Before she exited the path to ride the two blocks on a main street, there was an area with a stone bench and a water fountain.

Every day during the summer months and into the fall, it was occupied by a group of homeless men. Everyone knew they were perfectly harmless, so she always said ‘Good morning’, giving them a smile and a wave as she dismounted her bike to cross the street at the traffic light. They were used to this morning ritual and several of them returned the greeting to her.

On this particular morning, as she alighted from her bike and looked over at the men, she saw a new addition to their group. He was tall with shaggy hair and a beard. And he was staring at her.

Did he know her?

She hesitated for a moment, gazing back, her curiosity aroused. His glance never wavered. 

As their eyes met, she felt a shock run through her and it felt as though her heart turned over in her breast.  

Her stomach developed a sudden case of butterflies. She had no idea how long they stared at each other. It was a conscious effort to pull her eyes away from the tall man and head for the cross walk.

She resisted a strong urge to turn around and look at the man again.
Is he watching me?
She waited for the traffic light to give her the ‘walk’ signal. Instead of getting back on her bike as she usually did and riding the two blocks to the store, she slowly pushed it along the sidewalk, strangely reluctant to leave the path with its group of homeless men.

What’s my problem?
Amanda wondered. What was it about the homeless man that had attracted her? With his shaggy hair and scruffy beard, it had been hard to tell what he really looked like. But she knew what had caught her attention. His eyes. She hadn’t been able to break from the stare of those steel-gray eyes. And those thick black fringes of eyelashes.

Over the years, Amanda had seen many homeless men in Boulder, but not one individual had ever caught her attention. Until now. She couldn’t forget those eyes. Piercing, as though they could read her very thoughts. Not dull and lifeless like most of the homeless men she encountered on her daily rides.

Many of them walked or stood with slumped shoulders, as though living was too heavy a burden to carry. But not this one. He stood straight and tall, and in spite of his ragged clothes, he had an air of confidence about him.

Was he newly homeless? How long would it take before he blended in with the rest of them? How long would it take before he had the same dull, hopeless-looking eyes, and slumped shoulders? Somehow, the thought was unbearable.

Time to see if the homeless had arrived at the stone bench. When Matt reached it, there were several ragged men sitting on it. As he approached, they stared at him suspiciously.

“Howdy,” Matt said. “I’ve just arrived in Boulder. Name’s Matt. How’s the living here?”

“It’s okay,” one volunteered. “Better than most places you’ll find these days. They have a pretty good shelter up off North Broadway where we spend the night, but we have to leave in the morning, so we always head down here. Plenty of places to lounge around on by the Creek Path. There’s a park in the next block and the lawn in front of the library.”

Matt retrieved his sleeping bag from behind the stone bench. “Well, as long as the weather’s nice, I think I’ll find a place to roll out my sleeping bag at night. I’m starting to hate confined spaces.”

They offered him a seat on the stone bench, but he told them he preferred to stand. Matt listened while the group talked, exchanging stories and discussing the latest news.

“Did you hear they found another dead body?” one of them asked him.

“Dead body?” Matt raised questioning eyebrows. He knew he shouldn’t act as though he knew the latest news, having just arrived in Boulder.

“Yeah, seems a serial killer is now operating in town. So far he’s raped and killed three University girls. They just found the third one a couple of nights ago.

“Yeah,” another said, “their bodies have all been found in the same place. Up by the library. We heard on the news this morning before we left the shelter that the police don’t have any clues. The University is really putting on the pressure, hoping for an arrest.”

“I hope they apprehend him before he kills another one,” Matt said.

The conversation soon turned to other topics. Standing at the end of the bench, Matt wondered how hard it was going to be to pass the time for the next two weeks. He had better think up a story to tell or they might become suspicious.

“Good morning,” a cheerful voice called out.

Matt raised his head to see a slim figure dismount from a bike in front of them. Long blond hair hung below her helmet. Something about her caught his attention and he couldn’t help but stare. Her blue eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, stared back at him.

He didn’t know how long their gazes held, but the strangest feeling spread throughout his body. A warm glow, unlike anything he had ever experienced. The heat became intense and his heart began to pound.

She turned away from him as the signal light gave her the ‘walk.’ He watched her as she pushed her bike across the street, and disappeared behind some buildings.

“Who was that?” he asked the men.

“Don’t know,” one said, “but she comes by here almost every morning. Must be on her way to work. Always says ‘good morning.’”

Matt knew he had to see her again.

You can bet I’ll be here every morning.

Amanda had the strangest feeling she should turn around and have another look. See the man one more time before the experience of living homeless changed those amazing eyes.

What’s the matter with me?

There was no way that she, Amanda Barton, daughter of Michael and Olivia Barton, two professors at the University, and owner of a thriving business, could in anyway be attracted to a homeless man. She had always been used to living the good life. She had married well, even if her marriage had ended in divorce a year later. Now she was twenty-eight and this was the first time in five years she had been remotely attracted to a man.

What was there about him that in spite of shaggy hair and dirty clothes, she had noticed him? If any of her friends ever found out a homeless man appealed to her, she would die of embarrassment.

As she turned into the alley in order to go to the back entrance of Creations For You, she gave herself a stern admonition to forget the man and get her mind onto the day’s agenda. She had two interviews that morning, previewing the work of new artists she hoped to bring into the store.

Usually the thought of meeting new artists excited her, but this morning she couldn’t seem to get her mind off the homeless man. Would he still be there when she rode home after work? Maybe she would leave early today. A better idea. She would go home for lunch. Her need to see the homeless man again shocked her. She unlocked the door and wheeled her bike into a back room where it would be out of the way of customers. Without removing her helmet, she headed for her office.

Jenessa Hudson, the store manager, entered the front door, calling out a good morning to Amanda. In the next breath, she asked if she had heard the latest news.

“No, I didn’t turn the TV on this morning,” Amanda told her. “Seems like it’s always more bad news.”

“You’re right about that,” Jenessa said. “There
was
more bad news this morning. They found another girl from the university, raped and murdered. Her body was discovered a couple of nights ago by a jogger on the Boulder Creek Path, north of Broadway, between one end of the library and the creek. The police released the information this morning.”

“How awful,” Amanda exclaimed. “How many does that make now, three or four?”

“Three. All found in the same place. Let’s hope there is no number four. Supposedly the Boulder Police are all over this case. But so far they have no clues as to who the killer might be. I heard the University is putting a lot of pressure on them to get this solved quickly.”

“As they should, or parents will be wanting to take their daughters out of school.”

“Doesn’t it worry you to ride the Creek Path to and from work?”

“No, I leave the path a couple of blocks before it reaches Broadway and I never ride after dark. I suppose the police have the area where they found the body all cordoned off.”

“If you ask me,” Jenessa said, “they should have the whole Boulder Creek Path roped off.”

“They can’t do that,” Amanda said. “It’s a main thoroughfare for the college students getting back and forth to class, plus a lot of other people, like myself, use it to get to work or to the library.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jenessa agreed. “But it’s certainly a worry, even though I’m never on the Creek Path. What if he should decide to go somewhere else in Boulder and rape and murder a woman? Sometimes I don’t get home until after dark, which means I’m walking from the bus stop alone. I’m getting frightened just thinking about it. Maybe I should start driving my car to work.”

“Let’s hope the police catch him before he kills anyone else.”

“Not to change the subject,” Jenessa said, “but what time are your appointments this morning?”

“The first one’s at ten and the second one’s at eleven?”

“Are either of them good looking and single?”

“Sorry, Jenessa, but since I haven’t met either one of them, I really couldn’t say. But I can tell you this, you definitely won’t be interested in the second one.”

“Why?” Jenessa asked.

“Because it’s a woman.”

“You’re right about that.” Jenessa laughed.

Amanda stood and gazed unseeingly out over the store. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the homeless man out of her mind, in spite of the news of another student being murdered. If she rode her bike home at lunchtime, would he still be there?

“What’s wrong?” Jenessa asked. “Are you thinking about those murdered girls?”

“Actually, I wasn’t,” Amanda said, making an attempt at a bright smile. “I was thinking about my schedule for today. Wondering if I would have time to ride my bike home at the lunch hour to pick up something I forgot.”

“I would let you borrow my car, but I rode the bus. You know how expensive it is to park downtown. Besides, I guess they want to save the limited parking for the shoppers.”

“That’s exactly why they give anyone who works on the Pearl Street Mall a free bus pass,” Amanda reminded her.

“I know, I know. But with all these murders I may start driving anyway.”

“Well, let’s get the registers set up,” Amanda suggested, as she went into her office to unlock the safe.

She carried the cash box out, along with the pouch containing the money and the receipts from the previous day.

After setting the two registers up with the required amount of coins and paper money, Jenessa handed the excess to Amanda to make up the deposit to take to the bank.

As soon as she entered her office, she immediately thought of the homeless man.
This is so ridiculous
. She closed her eyes. But his image appeared to be imposed on the back of her eyelids.

She blinked, but when she closed her eyes again, his image was as clear as the first time. She finally gave up in frustration, knowing if she kept her eyes open, she would no longer have the problem.

Opening a desk drawer, she took out a pad of deposit slips and after counting out the money, she entered the numbers on the slip of paper and totaled them on her adding machine. The figures balanced with the register receipts so she put all the cash, checks, and the deposit slip into a bank pouch and prepared to run to the bank.

When she entered the bank, all the talk was about the third girl who had been raped and murdered. She waited in line, trying not to think in detail what it must have been like for the poor girl. The terrible feeling of being violated and powerless to stop it. The fear of knowing she was going to die. Amanda shuddered. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how frightening it must have been for those poor girls.

“How are you, Amanda?” Diane, the teller, asked, when it came her turn.