Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
S ETTLING INTO HIS VEHICLE, Nathan paused before he started the engine. He hated leaving Hanna to tramp around a scene of death. That was doubled considering that he knew what kind of scene he’d be tramping in.
Another dead woman.
He and his partner dubbed the guy the “Lonely Heart Killer,” and so far it was the toughest case he’d ever handled. The only thing they knew for sure was that the killer had found his first two victims online through a dating site. This would be the third in a little over three months. Actually, as he thought about the date, Nathan realized that it had only been three weeks since the last body had been dumped. Was the guy breaking form?
He started the car and pulled away, going over the details of the case in his mind. The first woman, Jane Haskell, had been a resident of Twain Harte, a small mountain town not far from Dry Oaks. Her purse, her phone, and her car were all missing. She lived alone and had no family and no great circle of friends. It was only when a rent payment was missed that a landlord stepped forward and filed a missing person report.
To Nathan it was tragic that Jane had lain in the morgue for two weeks before anyone missed her. It was also a hindrance to the investigation because it wasn’t until they’d located her residence and her computer that they had any kind of theory about who’d taken her life. They did a deep dive into her computer and phone records and uncovered an online liaison.
About the time they’d discovered the online connection with the first victim, the second body was found: Barb Grant. Again, there was no purse, no phone, and no car. Barb had a unique tattoo of a VW Bug on her shoulder. Nathan and his partner sent a picture of the tattoo to local media, and they got an ID on the woman a little faster, but it still took a couple of days.
Barb Grant hailed from Sonora. Immediately similarities were noticed. Both women were middle-aged and single. There were no husbands or boyfriends to investigate. Both women had lived alone and didn’t socialize much. Their computers and phone records both shared the same story of women in online relationships. The kicker was the profiles they’d been interacting with were both fake. The profile pictures had been stolen from legitimate people, two men Nathan and his partner reached out to, who were unaware that an online predator was using their photos to facilitate a fraud.
Tech crimes had the victims’ computers and dissected them as best they could, but the trail went cold.
It was clear that both women had been trapped by catfishing scams. From the messages recovered, the suspect strung the women along, pledging love and devotion and asking for money. While they were dealing with two different fake profiles, Nathan and his partner were certain it was the same guy. With Haskell he called himself Franco, and with Grant, he was Gerard. He had used a lot of the same phrases, played on each woman’s loneliness the same way.
“You’re a beautiful, vibrant woman. I love the way you fix your hair.”
“I love reading your posts—you are precious and insightful . ”
“Baby, you’re beautiful. Actresses and models have nothing on you.”
“If I was there, I’d never leave your side. I’d cherish you. Our time chatting is the highlight of my day.”
“You are my lifeline.”
He used the same excuses for needing money.
“My check is a little late. Your gift cards keep me occupied and online, so we can keep talking.”
The first two victims parted with a lot of money. Haskell sent off about five thousand dollars, while Grant parted with twenty thousand dollars. Neither victim was sexually assaulted.
What didn’t track was why the women were killed. They were giving the guy what he wanted: money. By killing them he cut off the money stream.
When Haskell was discovered, Nathan remembered thinking at the time that it would not be the first. Everything looked too methodical, almost careful. Grant was the same. Both women had been dead a couple of days, and both had been bound, shot, and dumped along Highway 108. No, dumped was not the right word. They were almost gently placed.
Nathan and his partner, Manny, voiced the fear after the second woman that it could get bad, and it appeared, from what Manny had told him on the phone, they’d been right. The fact that it was relatively early, not yet 9:00p.m., also said something. Sooner and bolder, it was almost as if he wanted to be seen.
Unfortunately, the news media also got a whiff of the investigation and descended on the second scene. Nathan and Manny had a good relationship with most of the local network reporters. They were respectful and easy to work with. Marcus Marshall, while normally a laid-back guy, could be like a pit bull on scenes. He was always pushing boundaries, trying to get around the tape. The day after the second woman was found, Marcus wrote his usual hyperbolic headline, Sadistic Serial Killer Stalks the County, and inflamed citizens. Nathan guessed that it got him what he wanted: an interview on Good Morning America .
Marcus liked the attention, but Nathan and Manny did not. He made things difficult because he often reported on details he observed that they did not want made public.
Nathan soon saw the emergency lights of the sheriff’s vehicle on the side of the highway, and he pulled in behind. Unfortunately, there were also lights from a local news van. He could not see who it was. Manny saw to it that they stayed back from the scene, but this could be a problem for the investigation. He got out of his car. Traffic crept by the bright lights, the distraction attracting people like a light attracted moths.
Manny walked back to meet him. “It’s bad, bro.” He shook his head. “This guy is getting more violent. But we might have gotten a break on this one.”
Nathan jerked toward his partner. “A break?”
Manny nodded. “Take a look, and I’ll fill you in.” He glanced at the news crew. “They got here right after I did. They got some pictures of the scene. Sometimes I wish we could take their scanners away.”
“Me too. Show me what you got.”
He followed Manny around the cars, down into the culvert on the side of the roadway. The coroner’s investigator was already down below, photographing the still form in the dirt. Nathan said a prayer for the woman, thankful that it would be impossible for any motorists above to view this tragic scene. He did worry about the footage the news crew shot. They weren’t usually so callous as to air graphic stuff. Still, he felt as if the victim was further violated by their intrusion.
“Who found her?” Nathan pulled on his crime scene gloves.
“That’s our break. A hitchhiker.”
“In the dark?”
“Yeah, kid named Cully. He’d been hitching with no luck since before dark.” Manny pointed down the road. “Cully slid down into the culvert to take a bathroom break. He was just finishing up when he realized an SUV ahead had pulled over”—Manny gestured—“right here. He climbed back up onto the road and ran, thinking he had a ride, but the SUV pulled away.” Hands on hips, Manny turned his attention to the body. “He saw the woman and freaked. Came down to see if she was okay and lost his lunch over there.”
“That’s what I smell,” Nathan muttered.
“He called 911 right away. The newsies probably picked up on the 929 DB call. He’s in the back of one of the cruisers.”
929 DB was the radio code for dead body . Reporters knew all the codes.
“You’re sure he’s not our guy?”
“Reasonably. You talk to him and tell me what you think. I believe we finally got lucky. She’d just been dumped. I’m guessing that she was just killed. The first two victims were not found until a couple of days after their deaths. No advanced decay here, so we’ll get more evidence.”
“You know that I don’t believe in luck.” Nathan knelt next to the body. Tied up like the other one, though this woman looked a bit older than the first two. Nathan frowned as he studied what he could of the woman’s features. His stomach turned and twisted. Something was familiar here. He couldn’t move her, the coroner would do that, but he moved to the other side to get a better look at her face and shone his light there.
His breath caught in his throat.
“What is it?” Manny asked.
Nathan sat back on his heels. “I know, oh my, I know her.”
He turned off his light and stood. “It’s Edda. Edwina Fairchild. She works for Mandy, Hanna’s friend, you know, at the clinic.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as bile rose in his throat.
“You okay?”
Nathan nodded. “It’s just the shock. This lady is like a kindly grandma.”
“How well do you know her?”
Nathan looked away, out into the darkness. “I just saw her at Scott’s funeral. Before that I’d spoken to her once or twice. Single, widowed, her son died from a fentanyl overdose about four months ago. We found him down by the train tracks. That was right before you and I became partners.”
Manny’s eyes widened. “I remember reading the press release. She’s a receptionist at the pro-life clinic, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Not exactly the profile of the other two. They were both pretty reclusive and looking for love in all the wrong places. Is she likely to be involved in an online relationship?”
Nathan stared at Manny. “I didn’t know Edda that well. She was single but not what I’d call a recluse. She was active in church, I know that. And I can’t picture her writing up a profile for a dating site.”
“Are you thinking this is a different guy?”
Nathan brought a hand to his chin and considered this. “I hope not. One monster is bad enough. Everything else looks the same, from the way she was dumped to the rope used. But here, she’s not placed. He dumped her. She rolled down into the ditch.”
“You’re right. Everything is similar, but not as precise. Even the knot on the rope, same kind but not tied as tight. We’ll have to wait for the coroner to give us a time of death.”
Nathan nodded, thinking about the funeral. Edda had asked him about the Lonely Heart case. She’d had faith that he’d catch the guy. The reality was like a kick to the gut.
I let you down, Edda, big time, and I’m sorry.
He shifted back to detached investigator mode. Her arms were restrained behind her like the others; a gunshot wound to the head. Everything looked fresh. Manny was right. This was a big break. The haste and timing of this dump could mean he was getting careless and would leave evidence.
After a few minutes, Nathan turned to Manny. “Let me talk to this witness.”
He followed his partner to the patrol car. Manny opened the back door, and Nathan leaned down to look inside. “What?” He frowned and jerked up. “What did he tell you his name is?”
“Cully, why?”
Nathan shook his head. “That’s Colby Ellis. He’s wanted all over the county for everything from theft to malicious mischief. Come out of there, Colby, and tell me why you’re lying.”