Profile of Evil (3 page)

"I'll keep that in mind," said Brody. He lifted his cup to finish off his coffee. "I'll be at the office. Come brief me after Bryan finishes with the second victim."

<><><>

Junior high school in Indianapolis had not turned out to be the exciting, wondrous place she'd imagined. In fact, gaining weight and getting braces on her teeth had thrown thirteen-year-old Alison Brown into junior high hell. The girl who used to get perfect report cards now barely got by with passing grades.

Last week, her principal had called her mother and then hauled Alison in for a conference about how much school she'd missed since the beginning of the school year.

"You must have the wrong student. My Alison hasn't missed a day of school. I know because I work nights, the eleven-to-seven shift. When I get home in the morning, I fix her breakfast and kiss her before she leaves for school."

Clutching her books to her chest, Alison squirmed in her seat and looked down at the floor. Her large blue eyes filled with tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"I assure you, Mrs. Brown, we have the correct student. Alison has missed fourteen days of school, and her teachers tell me the absences are impacting her school work."

Hearing this information, her mother turned to her daughter and said, "Alison, what's going on?"

At that point, Alison fessed up and admitted returning to the house and sneaking back into her bedroom, while her mother slept a couple of doors down. The result was a major grounding that included no phone, no computer except for school work, and no going out. Not that the last part was a concern to Alison; her social life had been dead for months now.

Alison left the principal's office just as the bell rang for second period. She rushed to her locker, unlocked the padlock, and searched for her history book. Suddenly, her locker door slammed against her head, and a long arm appeared from nowhere to knock her books out of her hands.

"Oh, my gosh, Alison has dropped her books again," said Jody Emmit. "Could she get any clumsier?"

On her hands and knees, Alison struggled to pick up the books and all the papers that had flown out of her binder. After the lecture and punishment she'd just gotten, she dared not be late for class.

With her hands on her hips and her cheerleader friends joining her, Jody laughed and said, "Poor Alison." With that, she grabbed the books in Alison's arms and threw them down the hall like they were bowling balls. Jody's friends kicked any remaining books as they scurried away to their classes.

Alison picked up the books, tucked the papers back into her binder, and then headed for class, praying she could make it before the final bell rang.

At supper that night, Alison's mom shared the entire principal conference with her stepfather, who grunted and glared at her. To say she hated her stepfather, Raymond, was an understatement. She detested him and wished she had the guts to tell her mother all his dirty secrets. But as much as she hated him, she feared him and what he promised to do—to both her mother and her—if she told what Raymond was doing to her.

Alison loaded the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, and then went to the family room where her mother and stepfather were watching television. Her mom would leave for work in a few hours.

"Mom, I have a research project for history class, so I'll need my laptop."

Her mother nodded and reached under the sofa where she'd hidden Alison's laptop. As she handed it to her daughter, she said, "Just use it for research and nothing else. And your light goes out at eleven, right?"

"Sure, Mom. Thanks."

Alison flew up the stairs, went to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. She placed her laptop on her desk, opened it, and entered her password. The only friend she had was waiting for her on Teen Chat, and she didn't want to disappoint him.

Moments after she logged in to the chat room, she noticed Anthony was online. Alison didn't know how she would have survived the past months without Anthony. He was nothing like the popular kids at school who made fun of her weight and braces.

Alison and Anthony had spent hours chatting online for the past couple of months, and she'd shared with him her secrets and fears. Alison had told Anthony everything about her life, and he'd understood, offering her comforting words and encouragement.

One by one, she'd lost her friends from sixth grade. In a way, she didn't blame them. They were as afraid of her bullies as she was. As long as they stayed friends with her, they risked Jody and her gang focusing on them. After seeing what was being done to her, why would they want the same? So she'd lost their friendships and had become lonelier than she thought possible.

That's when Anthony came into her life through Teen Chat. She could tell him anything and he understood. He often told her that he wished they lived closer and went to the same school. Anthony would make sure her bullies never bothered her again. But as it was, Anthony was sixteen, attended high school, and lived near Morel, an hour and a half away from where she lived in Indianapolis.

An hour later, Alison closed her laptop for the night and put on her pajamas. She felt better about things after telling Anthony what had happened that day. He always knew the right things to say to make her feel better.

She checked the time on her clock. It was nearly ten-thirty and her mom would leave soon for work. Alison pulled the lamp off the top of her four-drawer dresser and placed it on the floor. She then pushed the dresser in front of her bedroom door. Hearing footfalls on the stairs, she turned off her lamp and got into bed. Listening, barely breathing, she waited until the footsteps stopped at her door. The knob creaked as it twisted.

"C'mon, Alison. Open up. Don't you want to talk about what happened today? I can be a good listener."

Gritting her teeth, Alison listened as her stepfather stuck something hard and metallic in the door lock. She gasped when the door opened and slammed against the dresser.

"You little bitch. Move this dresser now!" He screamed.

"Go away," she pleaded. "Please go away."

After hammering the door with his fist a couple of times, he said, "You'll pay for this. Mark my words, bitch."

Alison listened as she heard him walk away. A short time later, she heard him close his bedroom door. She was safe from him—at least for tonight.

Closing her eyes, she hoped she'd dream of Anthony.

<><><>

Cameron entered Brody's office, sat in one of the guest chairs, and waited for his brother to get off the phone. Glancing at Brody's bookcase, he noticed a photo taken when he and Gabe were teenagers; they were holding fishing poles, as well as the fish they'd caught. The photo next to it was taken at his police academy graduation. Brody was all smiles and had his arm around his shoulders. Another photo was of Gabe in his high school football jersey, taken after a winning game. He focused his attention back on his oldest brother and thought of what a good father he'd make someday. He'd certainly done his best with Gabe and him when they'd lost Mom.

"So tell me about the second victim," said Brody, even before he'd hung up the phone.

Cameron opened his notepad, though most of the information was in his memory. "Bryan thinks she was closer to thirteen or fourteen, a little older than the vic in the trunk. Cause of death the same—gunshot to the back of the head. This time the bullet entered at the back of the skull and exited out the front. As you know, no casing was found at the scene."

"The killer probably killed them one after the other, using the same gun, so we're looking for a nine mil. Send the slug to ATF in Indianapolis to get an official identification."

Cameron shot Brody an incredulous glare, then continued. "Seriously? Do you really think I didn't plan to, Brody? It's not like I'm a rookie."

"Sorry, Cam."

"Do you want me to go on?"

Brody nodded, and Cameron continued, "This girl had oatmeal for breakfast, too, just like the first victim, so Bryan estimates her time of death is the same. Bryan's team is checking the Missing Persons DNA Database, as well as CODIS."

"I can tell by your expression that there's more to tell."

Cameron paused, then said, "Bryan found bruising and abrasions in a circular pattern around each girl's neck. He thinks they were both wearing some kind of collar that was too tight. Maybe even a dog collar."

"Sick."

"There's more. There was extensive vaginal tearing, abrasions and scarring that suggests they'd been raped repeatedly."

Disgusted, Brody shook his head, and asked, "Do you have the license plate number with you?"

Cameron nodded, flipped a page in his notepad and handed it to Brody.

"Let's run this baby." Brody plugged the number into the database, and then turned his computer screen so Cameron could see the results, too.

"There," said Cameron as he pointed toward the screen. "Car belongs to Tillie Bradford. She lives in Gary, Indiana."

"Yeah, and there's a note to call Detective Rodney Williams."

Brody dialed the detective's number and put his phone on speaker. As soon as Williams answered, Brody introduced himself, as well as Cameron.

"We had a 1996 red Toyota Corolla on fire here in Perrysville. When we ran the tags, we saw the note to call you."

"We've been looking for that car and the girl who took it for nine months," Detective Williams said. "The car belongs to Tillie Bradford, a single mom here in Gary. Tillie's thirteen-year-old daughter, Sophia, took the red Toyota Corolla when she ran away."

"Are you telling me a thirteen-year-old, without a driver's license, drove that car all the way to Shawnee County? That's a two and a half hour drive."

"Her mother says she's a little out of control," he responded. "I'd say a
lot
out of control. One thing though, that girl is smart or was being advised by someone who knew how to disappear. We ran into one dead end after another. It was strange."

"No kidding?"

"So are you holding Sophia? Are you sending her back to Gary?"

"There were two bodies in the car, both shot in the head at close range. I think your Sophia is one of them."

"Damn, I hate to hear that. I'd really hoped we'd find her and return her to her mom." Detective Williams paused for a second, then continued. "If you need anything for a definite identification by your forensic odontologist, I have her dental records. We collected them from Sophia's dentist."

"That would really help."

"I'll email them now. Let me know if one of the bodies is Sophia so I can tell her mom," said Detective Williams. "Since the murder took place on your turf, I'll send you my file on Sophia, and her mother’s contact information. I know you'll want to talk to her."

<><><>

Early the next morning, Cameron entered Dr. Bryan Pittman's office to find him with his feet up on his desk, his face covered by the report he was reading.

"What's a man got to do to get a cup of coffee around here?" Cameron asked, as he tossed a bag of muffins at Bryan's report.

"What the hell?" Bryan started to pick up the report, which now was spread across the floor. "The coffee pot is in the break room, and you know damned well it is. What's up?"

"I came bearing gifts," Cameron said as he pointed to the bag.

"Please tell me these are chocolate chip muffins from Mollie's Cafe."

"They are. Thus, the need for hot coffee."

Bryan punched a couple of numbers on his phone, "Mary Beth, would you please bring in a couple of mugs and a pot of hot coffee. I'm in a meeting with Detective Chase."

A minute later, both men were sipping coffee and devouring muffins.

"I may ask Mollie Adams to marry me just for her baking abilities," said Bryan.

"She'd be smart to say no to that proposal," teased Cameron.

"Yeah, well one of these days, I plan on dating that gorgeous female. I’ve just got to get her to say yes, and I'm very persistent."

"Keep dreaming, Bryan."

"Your brother was an idiot for breaking up with her."

"Seriously? That was only a million years ago. Brody was eighteen and she was sixteen. Ancient history, don't you think?"

"Just sayin'." After another bite of his muffin, Bryan said, "So what's up, Cameron?"

"I'm checking on the dental records I emailed you yesterday. Are they a match for one of the girls?"

Bryan straightened in his chair, flipped on his computer, and searched his email until he found the one from Cameron with an attachment. "Sorry, I didn't see your email until now. Let's check it out." He opened the attachment to reveal dental x-rays, and then pulled two files out of a drawer. From the first file folder, he pulled out the dental x-ray he'd made during the autopsy and held it next to the computer screen.

"This x-ray was taken of the teeth of the girl found in the trunk."

Cameron circled Bryan's desk so he could better see the comparison of the dental x-ray he was holding and the x-ray on his computer screen.