Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1) (27 page)

“The Normans could take a few lessons from these two,” Murphy said as the two of them watched from the hallway.

“For sure.” She reached for his glass. “I’ll take these into the kitchen.” Murphy handed his to her.

Behind the Grants, out of their view, Charley placed the glasses into the sink. She glanced towards the living room to ensure they were preoccupied while she read the prescription bottles. She grinned and mumbled, “No wonder they’re doing so well. Wait until they stop taking these. They’re in for an awakening.” Charley placed the two prescriptions of Xanax back where she found them. She returned to the den. “Karen, Joe, has Annabelle mentioned anyone by the name of Star?”

“No.” Karen’s head remained on her husband’s shoulder.

“I’ve never heard her mention the name,” Joe said. “Should we?”

“We believe she spoke with someone by that name, but we haven’t figured out who,” Murphy said.

Karen and Joe were quiet.

“Not a common name,” Joe said. “Is it a first or last name?”

“We don’t know,” Charley said, sliding in front of Murphy.

“We will see ourselves out,” Murphy said.

“Thank you, Joe and Karen.” She faced Murphy. “Let’s go.”

Convinced they had a grasp on Annabelle, the person, the next task; find out whom Annabelle referred to as Star.

“Sean?” Charley buckled her seatbelt. She grabbed his upper arm with both hands and shook him. “Star, Sean, Star. The DVD we found in Natalie’s room had a gold star on the corner of the cover.”

The gleam in his eyes increased as Murphy tapped his foot. “Wait, a second. Your adage to Robin at the morgue. Olivia had glow stars on her ceiling. The DVD in Natalie’s room. Now this.”

“There’s our connection. Stars.” Charley tapped the speaker and phoned Ms. Ingram.

“Hello.”

“Ms. Ingram, this is Agent Faraday. The stars on Olivia’s ceiling, where did they come from?”

Charley waited for the answer.

“She brought them home from school one day.” Ms. Ingram stalled. “She said a friend gave them to her.”

“Has she ever mentioned anyone by the name of Star?”

“Uhm, no. Is it important?”

“We’ll call you if we need more info,” Charley said. “Thank you, Ms. Ingram.”

Murphy’s wrist dangled over the steering wheel, he shifted in his seat turning towards her. “Maybe star isn’t a who, but a what.”

“Besides the kind in the night sky, how many others are there?”

“I don’t know, but this is a clue.”

Chapter 31

Brain Banging

Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

Friday, 17 June - 1:33 PM

Murphy and Charley sat at the console in silence, studying the available evidence, reports, and images regarding the kidnappings and deaths of the girls. Both accepted responsibility, along with the other investigators, for failing to identify a prime suspect.

Murphy raised his hand to his mouth and studied Charley’s profile. Certain she had been the prettiest girl in high school. He couldn’t imagine her as the class funny girl. Since meeting her, Charley never displayed comedic behavior. Sarcastic humor on occasion, and a few one-liners, but for her to pull pranks, unbelievable.

He tried to envision her whirling through the halls overexcited, bursting with uncontrollable laughter, while she planned the next trick to play on a friend. Somewhere along the way, she changed into the complicated result of a woman who stared into the distance, her past a locked door, and moments of longing in her eyes. She’d reach for him and snap her hand away when he wished she would follow through. He wanted to learn the turning point in her life, which he had reason to believe occurred eight years ago.

His affection for her grew with each passing day, but they couldn’t be anything more than colleagues.

Rules sucked.

“First, the good news,” Charley said. “Doobie called before you arrived, Olivia’s abduction location and where the detection dogs lost her scent are different.”

“How so?”

“The Cape Cod for sale across the street, contractors stripped the old laminate leaving behind raw wood. Forensics recovered Olivia’s touch DNA from the kitchen counter.”

“The advances in forensic science are mindboggling. Imagine extracting DNA from a few epithelia, or skin cells. This proves Oliva had been in the house.”

“It’s hard to keep up sometimes.” Charley bobbed her head with an insightful smile. “The compromised lock on the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen would agree. The real estate agent had a prospective buyer the night before Olivia vanished. An hour before the appointment, the realtor straightened the house. The builders left a mess due to the remodeling. She locked and cleaned the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard.”

“Who found the lock broken and when?”

“The real estate agent went to the house to check on the progress of the kitchen counters last week. The contractors hadn’t been there since they stripped the laminate.”

“Let me guess, no fingerprints.”

Charley smiled, tapping her fists. “Hang on, there’s more. On the interior of the sliding glass door next to the counter, she spotted a small handprint. Olivia’s.”

“And?”

“The smudge alarmed the agent. The sellers don’t have children. Aware of Olivia’s kidnapping, she called the police, and they called the task force.”

“He lured her into the house.”

“Possible. On the paper towel holder, forensics found a second set of fingerprints. After running them through Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System (IAFIS), no matches.”

“He’s never been arrested.” Murphy tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’ll never forget the weird vibes we experienced on our second visit.”

“Me either.”

“We better be careful, Char, we may have a hive-mind thing going on between us.” He laughed.

“That’s one way to view it.” She snickered. “Anyway, we have three dead girls and one missing. There are no personal connections between them. They all existed in different worlds. The abduction locations, let’s review those.”

Murphy raised his finger into the air, outlining the map points on the overhead screen. “Resembles the letter J.”

“Remember when I suggested he knew we were in the tree line behind the bowling alley and you disagreed?”

“Yes.”

“I reviewed all the photos from the crime scene.” She clicked and enlarged the image. “What is that?”

“An ice cream truck. Lucas Williams’?”

“Nope. He was at the baseball park, and I asked. There’s no name on the truck, but there’s a logo of an ice cream sandwich on the side. Lucas’ trucks have… you ready for this… a strawberry ice cream cone.”

“Okay, so you’re saying the killer was there.”

“Natalie was in the truck.”

“I can see another theory coming.”

“Consider this. After Natalie’s abduction, eight days passed before the discovery of her body.”

“Olivia, thirteen days.”

“Robin, he kept her fourteen days before displaying his handiwork. He’s escalating, requiring less time from the time he takes them to when he kills them, which means, he’s becoming comfortable with his behavior.”

“You expect Annabelle will be found in a matter of days?”

“Yes.”

“Any news on the masks?”

Charley raised her finger. “Good question and presents proof.”

“Proof?”

“You betcha. The mask the investigators found in the trashcan, the lab results show the only DNA present belongs to the four girls. The abductor didn’t put it there. Annabelle did. The suspect didn’t know until after he left the scene with her. To return and retrieve it would have been too risky. He had no other option except to leave it.”

“Annabelle left us evidence.” Murphy stroked his jaw. “How about this? He forced Annabelle to wear the mask, or showed it to her to gain her attention. She sensed the threat and deliberately placed the mask into the trashcan. Annabelle is smart. She protected her journal in ways beyond the thought processes of the average child. If she knows how to hide, she knows how to show.”

Charley’s hand covered her mouth as she shook her head. “The killer used it to snare each child. Annabelle struggled when he grabbed her. While he subdued her, he didn’t see her tossing the mask.” Charley’s eyes widened, revelation sprung as her tone exasperated, “She knew what would happen to her. Annabelle’s an abuse survivor. She would recognize the signs.” Charley snatched her phone from her back pocket. Frantic, she called Doobie.

“Doobie, the mask, have it tested for residual chemical agents, such as paint thinner.” Charley ended the call.

“Good thinking.”

“Thanks. Anyway, she left us valuable evidence. Now we know for sure the same person kidnapped the girls.”

“Will he make another mask?”

“I suspect it’s what he uses to hide their identity. If a child wore a mask, most wouldn’t give it a thought. Kids do silly things.”

“Yeah, the mask made it fun. He lured them using ice cream and a ruse.”

“He’s operating on a child’s level.” Charley tapped her lips with her index finger. “I want to reanalyze this guy. Something doesn’t fit. You begin.”

“Let’s start with the basics. He’s Caucasian, twenty-eight to thirty-three years old, and you say he’s white collar, but I don’t.”

“Your reason?”

“Statistics indicate half of known child murderers are unemployed, or hold unskilled jobs.”

“What I find interesting is the distance from the murder and the dumping site. Statistically, most child abductions and murders occur in less than an hour and within two hundred feet. This one is different, abducted, held captive, murdered, and dumped near where they were kidnapped. In cases like this, molestation is the motivator. However, neither of these factors comes into play.”

“Wherever he holds them is where he kills them. Most of the time the abductor lives near the child. This guy is everywhere.”

“His job takes him to those places.”

“Maybe he’s a craftsman, courier, a delivery guy.”

“Blue collar. I’m convinced he’s isn’t blue collar. You disagree with me and it’s okay. If you had to guess, which child does he live closest to?”

Murphy rubbed his chin. “Uhm… Robin, she was first.”

“I disagree. The suspect doesn’t live near any of them. He travels.”

“Trick question,” Murphy said with a slight smile. “He lives away from the crime scene area?”

“He takes them away from the crime radius.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want us to decipher his pattern.” Charley referenced the murder map. “It has to look as though the abductions are random, otherwise he’d reveal who he is.”

“The key to his actions is where he takes them.”

“Yes.”

“Where he works, depends on where the abductions take place.”

“Correct.”

“What about Natalie? Her abduction happened on a Saturday. He may work on Saturdays.”

“Where he works or something involved in his work connects the girls.”

“What time was Annabelle abducted?”

Charley consulted her notes. “Four fifteen in the afternoon. Children are home from school and outside, blowing off energy after being in school all day.”

Murphy reclined in the chair, locking his fingers behind his head. “The perfect distraction.”

Chapter 32

Some Things  Don’t Need Repeating

Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

Wednesday, 22 June – 7:45 AM

Wednesday arrived.

Annabelle Grant had been missing for eight days with no additional leads.

Interviewers questioned Lucas Williams’ employees for six days. Several of them acquainted with the missing or dead girls crumbled during their interviews. Through their anguish, they provided solid alibis to authorities.

Vigilant and dedicated to his community, Lucas contracted to have four-point cameras installed on the ice cream trucks.

Charley conceded the only good thing to come out of this promising lead— the Williams’ Ice Cream Company employees declared they would notify authorities if they spotted the truck.

Forensics examined the mask for residual chemicals. After extensive testing, results determined a starter fluid concoction of mineral spirits, better known as homemade ether.

A further inquiry of all students and school staff of Bennett Elementary resulted in a dead end. Investigators deduced Annabelle gave the nickname, Star, to the person who eventually abducted her. As they dug deeper, they pulled the employee rolls in the public school system. They found no one holding the name of Star.

Charley propped her head with her hand, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. Facts stacked in her mind, she sorted through them, trying to decipher the killer’s rationale. The girls were well cared for while held captive, except for Natalie who fought hard. It made little sense. Where was the harbored emotional violence, the outrage? Was the anger buried so deep it must be unleashed? What was his trigger? What provoked him to commit these crimes? Could it be a flawed man attempting to find redemption in the most heinous way?

Beep
,
beep
,
beep.

Charley covered her ears to the familiar menacing warning. “No.” She slumped over, falling hard onto the desk, hitting her forehead. Annabelle Grant’s dead body awaited. She sent a text to Murphy informing him she would meet him at the crime scene.

Today, she did not want time alone with him. She needed to sort some of the misfiled data slots in her mind. Her affection increasing, her concern wasn’t if she trusted him, but could she trust herself.

Burke, VA – Dunbar Avenue – Quincy’s Piano and Music

9:43 AM

Two miles from the small grove of trees at Rensselaer Park, the site of Annabelle Grant’s abduction, Denise Quincy, owner of Quincy’s Piano and Music, discovered her body.

Charley parked her Volkswagen in the parking lot of the music store. Murphy waited for her on the sidewalk. His hands in his pockets, a strained smile on his face, he watched as she exited the vehicle. Charley nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Hey, partner.”

Doobie approached them. “Here we go again.”

“Inevitable,” Charley said.

“That’s cold,” Murphy said.

“What else is there to say? We knew what would happen unless we caught him. It’s reality.” Charley said as the three of them strode to the crime scene. “It won’t stop until he’s apprehended.”

“Where’s Carmichael?”

“He’s on his way,” Doobie said.

The three of them approached the little girl and stood by her side.

Positioned underneath an awning on a concrete picnic table in the break area, the body laid on a green flannel blanket. Annabelle Grant held four orange lilies in her hands. The yellow empire dress had a pleated skirt. A white Peter Pan collar complimented the bodice. On her feet, pale yellow socks with white sneakers tied with yellow ribbon. Same as the other three victims clamped above her right ear a yellow velvet bow.

Nine white candles in small wooden holders surrounded her body.

“It’s Wednesday morning, this is a busy business district this time of day.” Charley removed a pair of gloves from her pants pocket. “She’s two miles from the abduction point.”

“She’s not lying on the ground like the others,” Murphy said.

“There’s an abrasion on her knee. It’s fresh.” Charley slipped the vinyl gloves over her hands.

“We’ve had a lot of rain in the last few days.” Charley wafted the candles with her hand. “He didn’t want her to be wet and dirty. The candles are the same. These didn’t burn as long. He didn’t spend as much time with her. Less than hour.”

“Quantity over quality.” Murphy donned a pair of exam gloves and leaned closer to the victim. “Her cheeks are too pink.”

“I noticed that, too.” Charley snapped the cuff of the gloves.

“Sunburn.” Murphy pointed at Annabelle’s face. “One side is redder than the other.” His hands near his cheeks, he shifted his head side to side. “The left cheek is redder than the right, this happened late afternoon. She was outside yesterday.”

Charley scrutinized the victim’s face. “You’re right.” She ran the edge of the blanket between her fingers. “The blanket is the same, most likely purchased at the same time as the others. How many did he buy? When he runs out, will he choose a different type or color? What does it mean? His favorite color? Emulating grass? What?”

Commotion came from their left. Grumpy and sluggish, Carmichael approached them. He sighed heavy with anger. “Well now, isn’t this a fine fucking morning? This is getting way outta hand.”

“Bad mood, Ansel?” Charley said.

“The moment I received the call.” Carmichael prepared the body for examination. After removing the bouquet from her hands, he determined the body core temperature. “She died about seven hours ago. That would be around two this morning.” The thermometer cleaned and put away, he examined her. “Char, the flowers, what kind are they?”

“Orange lilies. A contradictory blossom, they symbolize hatred or passion. Lilies are bulbs. Plant them in the fall for spring blooms. The oil from them has healing properties, excellent for sensitive skin. It’s a decent moisturizer.”

“Every time I see you, Char, I learn something new.” Carmichael examined the leg and hip of the victim. “Concrete fragments are embedded into the knee.”

“Driveway? Sidewalk?” Doobie said.

“It’s too fresh to have happened the day she was abducted. She fell and slid,” Charley said.

Murphy leaned closer to the body. “She rode a bicycle.”

“He let her ride a bike while she was captive?” Doobie said.

Murphy tapped his cheek. “Explains her sunburn. Let’s see, in the last week she has been missing, it rained every day except two, Saturday and yesterday. She rode a bicycle yesterday.”

“He wanted Annabelle to have fun before she died,” Charley said. “One last chance at happiness.”

“Why Annabelle and not the others? Why was she different?”

“So far, she’s the only one who’s a victim of severe sexual and physical abuse. He wanted her to have more.” Charley paced, kicking her feet. “Annabelle tried to escape while riding the bike and she crashed.”

Doobie pulled his shoulders back. “Possible.”

Murphy’s finger tapped his lips. “Makes sense. If I were trying to maintain control of someone on a bike, I would tie a rope to the bike, not the person. Annabelle attempted to run. All he had to do is pull the rope. Down she goes.”

Carmichael focused on the body. “Excellent points.” He rolled the body onto its side. “There are scrapes on her hip and left arm. Classic bicycle injuries. My grandchildren have at least two of these every day during summer.”

“I did,” Charley said. “I was a daredevil on a bike so it wasn’t unusual for me.”

“A consummate pianist and a firebrand.” Doobie grinned. “Remind you of anyone, Charley?”

Charley gave him a dismissive wave. “Rebellion.”

“I don’t understand,” Murphy said.

“Annabelle’s a prodigy pianist. Her fingers are essential. Kids need to have fun too. I studied concert piano. My mom would become upset when I would injure my hands. I was a hellion. Climbed trees, dug in dirt. I broke my index finger. I performed with my finger in a cast.”

“I remember that.” Doobie chuckled. “You were around ten, I guess.”

“Yep.”

“‘Moonlight Sonata’ right?”

“Sure did.”

“I’ve never heard you play,” Murphy said.

“I play alone. It’s something I do for myself. My days of performing in public are over.”

Murphy jabbed at his chest with his thumb. “I will annoy you until you play for me.”

“I’ll consider it. Could we move along here?”

“Her fingernails are painted same as the others,” Carmichael said, observing the child’s hands.

“I’ll venture to guess the cause of death is helium. No discernible marks to indicate violence,” Charley said.

“I’ll have more after the examination.”

“Charley and I will drop by late tomorrow afternoon.”

Carmichael nodded. “See ya then.”

Charley placed her hand on child’s arm. “Grace danced in her fingers, strength within her soul. In every gesture she was a lovely little girl.” Charley stood with her fists pressed against her cheeks. “I never want children, too painful.”

Murphy planted his hands into his pockets. A slow endearing smile crawled across his face as his eyes captured the sky. “A daughter. I want a daughter.”

“I thought guys wanted sons?”

“Not me. I want to experience love in the eyes of my daughter.”

She teetered her head. “My mom would say my dad’s toughness melted away when he looked into my eyes. She told me the first time he laid eyes on me she had never seen that expression. Daddy always had that same expression for me and no one else.”

Murphy presented an animated finger. “That’s the one.”

“So true.” Carmichael grinned. “I don’t care how old my daughter is, she’ll always be daddy’s little girl.”

Tears welled in Charley’s eyes. She turned away. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Murphy extended his hand for her. Doobie pulled Murphy back and shook his head. “Let her be. It happens sometimes. She misses her parents.”