The Christmas Killer (9 page)

Asher spoke to a panicked construction foreman. It took him a few minutes to get the details, but by then everyone in the room knew the facial mutilations and the torn-out eyeballs made it the same killer. Jake could see the mixture of horror and anger and excitement in Harper as they listened: horror that someone else had died, anger – possibly affected – that the police had not yet caught the killer, excitement that fate had given him more to make political capital from.

Finally Asher dropped the phone. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Jake and Mills.

The two men were already on their feet. Harper stood too.

‘Sorry, Councilman,’ said Asher. ‘No civilians.’

Jake thought he caught a smile on Asher’s face as he said that, but it was fleeting.

As they rushed through the station to the car outside, Asher paused at Sara’s desk.

‘Put a call through to the forensics lab and the medical examiner,’ he said. ‘We need a team out there immediately.’ He turned to one of the sergeants. ‘We
need three cars of uniforms – one to secure the scene and two for witness interviews.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said the sergeant, turning towards the rows of desks. ‘Jones, O’Brien, you take the first cruiser. Get there quick. Olsen, organize four guys for the interviews.’

There was immediate movement. Jake, Mills and Asher took the back door to the car lot to avoid the reporters. Harper followed – despite being told not to – listening in as they walked.

‘Dumped on the highway construction site,’ Asher told them, ‘just further down the road a ways. The foreman found her.’

There was no doubt about it. It was the same murderer. And with the sick way he was killing these people, Jake knew there would be more and more deaths until he was stopped. The question was, how many?

Asher turned towards Jake and Mills. ‘If this turns out to be Sonny Malone, I swear to God …’

Jake wished it was Sonny, but knew better. They opened the doors of the patrol car and climbed in.
Fuck
, he thought
. I’m the one around here who’s had the most experience in homicide, and I’ve never handled anything this bad.

In the rush Jake didn’t think about stopping Harper climbing into the back seat next to him. Mills was up front with Asher. They tossed random speculations back and forth among themselves, but Jake kept silent, tried to empty his mind. There was no point in thinking anything until they got to the scene.

Asher put the siren and lights on and drove quickly – more quickly than Jake would have expected. He took chances and rode red lights fearlessly. Seven minutes after leaving the station, and just nineteen minutes after taking the call, they pulled up at the construction site. Flat yellowy rubble stretched for miles, with just a few portable huts dotted around.

One minute to nine, and all the workers were already there. But none were out on the site. They clustered around the prefab office, holding their hard hats in their hands like funeral guests. A big man sat in the middle of the group on a chair that had been set out for him. He carried his head in his hands and he was pale. The guy looked like shit. Not surprising after seeing what Jake knew he’d just seen.

Jake, Mills and Asher walked up to the man. ‘Wait here please, Councilman,’ Asher told Harper over his shoulder.

‘Are you Snipes?’ Asher asked. Jake guessed he was trying to sound sympathetic, but he just sounded like he wanted to get this over with.

The foreman looked up. ‘I … er … Yeah, that’s me.’

‘Are you OK, sir?’ asked Jake.

‘I’m … Yeah, I’m OK.’

‘Can you show us where you found the body?’ Asher asked.

Snipes nodded, stood up slowly and then looked at his colleagues. ‘What about … ? Um …’

Jake nodded at him. ‘We’ll get our men to shut the site for you.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’ Snipes led the three cops towards the ditch that marked the end of the previous day’s construction. ‘She’s in there.’

‘OK,’ said Asher. ‘We can take it from here.’ He stopped them all and gestured around the area. ‘Mills, take Mr Snipes back to the site office and take a preliminary statement. Austin, examine the scene. I’ll stay here to secure the site until the uniforms arrive.’

Jake nodded. He knew that Asher had never dealt with anything like this before and was letting Jake do what he had been brought here to do. He took a deep breath to steady himself as Mills turned to walk the foreman away from the body.

But procedure was lost on Councilman Harper. He walked up to where the three cops were and began to walk around them, towards the ditch where the body was.

‘Get Harper out of here,’ Jake said. ‘No civilians within a hundred feet.’

Jake saw Harper’s face go white with rage but he moved back behind the cops.

Asher stepped towards Harper. ‘I’m sorry, Councilman,’ Asher said in his most conciliatory voice. ‘It is vital we don’t contaminate the crime scene. We can’t run the risk of this sick bastard sliding out from under this because the crime scene is tainted.’

‘I understand, Colonel,’ said Harper, turning his back on Jake.

‘One of the cruisers will give you a ride to City Hall,’ the colonel went on. ‘I’ll update you as soon as we’ve taken it all in.’

‘Thank you, Colonel. I would appreciate that.’

Harper turned and strode off, his coat flowing behind him. Even in defeat he was able to make a hell of an exit.

Asher turned to Jake. He nodded slightly and smiled. Jake walked over to the ditch and prepared himself for the sight of another mutilated corpse.

Jake walked to the end of the construction zone. After a few yards he could see the leg that had drawn Snipes to the body. On the end of it was a shoe. He approached slowly, letting his eyes take in everything. It was a good shoe, a lot better than the shoes Marcia Lamb had died in.

Was that the best he could do? He needed more but his mind refused to play ball – no impressions of the killer or the events that had brought them here were coming to him. It was all blank.

He stopped and looked around, but that brought nothing. It was virtually the same view as Monday morning. No work had been done here since yesterday; construction had moved to a different part of the project. And despite what Jake had said to the foreman earlier, work would go ahead later today, after the body was removed. It would just happen further up the road. Nothing stopped progress when big business was involved. The interstate was too important to the politicians to be delayed by two bodies.

He walked a little closer, and now he could see the
way the woman was laid out. She was on her side, her lower arm stretched out and her head resting on it. She was curled, and her legs were drawn up, but not by much. Jake recognized it as the recovery position that paramedics and lifeguards put people into after CPR.

Was she still alive when you laid her out? I don’t think so. There’s no disturbance, no sign of a struggle. You killed her at home, just like the last one. Then you brought her out here. You laid her out gently, almost tenderly.

He looked again at her position.

You didn’t hate her. You cared for her. After you killed her, you cared for her.

So why did you kill her?

Now Jake was close enough to be able to examine the body properly. It was not easy – his gaze was drawn to the mutilated face and the twin dark eye sockets that seemed to be the killer’s signature. But Jake had to force down his humanity and allow the cop to surface. How he liked to work a scene was from the outside in, gradually moving from generalities towards details. She was a blonde woman – looked to be in her late forties. Death, and the pooling of blood post-mortem, tended to make people look older than they actually were, so more likely she was late thirties or very early forties. Slim. Her clothes looked expensive. She wore black trousers that clung to the contours of her well-toned calves, suggesting a relatively strict health regime, and her blouse had the sheen of good silk. This was a woman who cared about her appearance.

An ornate gilt belt circled her waist, and it was clasped.

Two women, both attractive, and you have no interest in their bodies beyond forcing the life out of them. It’s not sexual with you – it’s about power.

Ten feet from the body, and Jake moved slowly. He picked each step carefully so that he wouldn’t disturb any clues. Brilliant detective work caught criminals, but it was forensics that put them away. He bent low and looked at her face. He could only see one side of it. It was dominated by a dark smudge where the eye should have been, the skull contorted out of shape. The eyeball itself lay six inches from her nose, slightly crushed.

He scanned around the corpse. Something white and glistening was lying on the ground. There was another, nearer her face. He took another step forward, reached into his pocket for tweezers, then squatted down. It was part of a tooth. Picking it up with the tweezers he looked at it carefully: it came from a good tooth, uncapped and without cavities. She had taken care of her teeth. The two roots of the fragment were intact, and showed no signs of decay. Interesting. What would cause a healthy tooth to shatter in this way? A blow with a blunt object? Maybe, but it wasn’t like anything he’d seen before.

He stood up and took two steps towards the body. Now he was standing a foot from her face, and he squatted again.

He tried to focus on anywhere but her eyes. He
started with her hair: immaculately cut and styled, a fact obvious despite the gaping wounds in her face, and the blood and mud. Short, which Jake took as a confirmation that the victim was pushing forty, if she hadn’t already passed it. He could see a little diamond stud earring. No zirconium for this woman; he would stake his salary on that. And a gold chain with a little pendant was still around her neck.

He tried to look underneath at the other side of the face. But it was resting on her outstretched arm and he couldn’t see. He looked around. He was far enough away from the others, and half-concealed by the rubble. He gently put a hand on the woman’s blonde hair, and turned her face.

Though he was expecting it, he still recoiled. Her second eye socket was also just a dark smudge of congealed blood, blackened by exposure to air. Her second eyeball dangled from the deformed socket, tethered by a tattered optic nerve. It hung down, staring at the ground.

If you cared for her, why did you do
this
to her?

He forced his eyes back to her clothing, and focused on her blouse and belt. The silk of the blouse was thick and the cut expensive. The belt was real leather not synthetic, and carried a Gucci label. Not a knock-off either.

What possible connection could there be between this rich socialite and Marcia Lamb, Jake wondered.

‘What can you see, Detective?’ asked the colonel from the top of the ditch.

Jake said nothing so Asher jumped down and took a look for himself.

Asher muttered, ‘Shit,’ under his breath. He took a quick look at the body, then busied himself searching the ground.

Jake could make out Mills interviewing the foreman, and he guessed forensics were about five minutes away. The assistant medical examiner would be another half an hour. But the site perimeter had been secured by a ring of cops. Just in time too; reporters were beginning to circle. Jake could make out at least four print guys over by the site office, and a big truck from the local television affiliate was unloading equipment. He couldn’t see Chuck Ford yet, but where there was carrion the hyenas were never far behind.

‘They are going to be on us non-stop,’ said Asher, motioning to the press behind them. ‘They’ll say we let the suspect go and he killed again.’

‘They can say what they like,’ said Jake. ‘Sonny didn’t do this.’

Asher glanced nervously at the press, then lowered his voice. ‘Then who did?’

Jake was stumped. He was picking up very little. Detective work was a grinding slog, collating interviews, clues, alibis and opportunities. But you needed luck. And Jake needed a feel for the killer. He looked at the body again.

‘Serial killers – if that’s what we’re dealing with – are like serial daters. They target a certain type,’ said Jake,
‘and they almost never cross the colour line. Our guy has crossed social class
and
colour, like he doesn’t give a damn who he kills. And, to be honest, Colonel, that kinda scares the shit out of me.’

He looked down at the body again and the undisturbed jewellery.

‘Robbery doesn’t account for any part of it,’ he muttered. ‘It’s all about the power and violence with this one. For him the life he takes is enough of a trophy. No need to bother with possessions.’

‘This one will have a swankier address than our previous victim,’ Asher said. ‘He’s spreading himself around a bit.’

Jake gently touched the body: stiff but not completely. Rigor mortis was not fully established. That put the time of death less than twelve hours ago. With the cold night-time temperature, probably less than ten.

Mills whistled from the top of the ditch, then stepped down to join them. He looked at the body from top to bottom, as if checking out a lady in a bar. ‘Whoa, she’s a looker,’ he said.

‘Detective!’ warned Asher, who glanced behind him at the reporters and construction workers and said no more.

‘God, sorry,’ muttered Mills. ‘I was only trying to lighten the mood.’

Jake reached out his hand. ‘Just give me the thermometer and keep your thoughts to yourself.’

Mills gave Jake a digital thermometer. Jake took a
flashlight out of his pocket and shone it into the victim’s mouth. This was a delicate operation, and strictly speaking he should not have been doing it, but he needed an approximation on the time of death as soon as possible – any advantage he could get against a killer Jake was starting to fear may already have an eye on a third victim.

The mouth seemed empty – no clues to be disturbed – so he inserted the thermometer and waited a few seconds for the temperature to register. The thermometer had two displays: external temperature and body temperature. Jake looked at the numbers and noted the difference. The outside temperature was 38 Fahrenheit, the internal temperature just below 41. The body had almost reached the temperature of the surrounding area so the victim had been killed up to eight hours ago. Because of the coldness of the night it could be as recently as six hours ago. That was good enough for Jake now. The ME could further narrow it down later.

While he was kneeling down Jake shone the flashlight around, but he could see nothing new apart from a third tooth. He left it there for the lab guys and stood. There was an awkward silence. Mills was unusually quiet. Jake had nothing. No idea where to go from here.

‘We need to know who she is,’ said Mills.

‘A woman like this will be reported missing before long,’ said Jake.

Mills stepped forward.

‘Taking another look?’ asked Jake.

‘You’re not the only—’ Suddenly Mills tensed. ‘Oh shit!’

‘What’s up?’ asked Asher.

Mills looked around. He nodded towards the press. Jake and Asher followed him as he walked away from the corpse. Once he was well out of earshot of everyone else, he turned and faced them.

‘I know who she is.’

Just then Asher’s phone cut in, its shrill tone jarring. Asher pulled it out of his pocket and was about to kill it when he recognized the number.

‘Hang on – it’s Harper. We’ll let him hear this.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Mills, laying a restraining hand on the colonel’s arm. ‘It’s the councilman’s wife, Belinda.’