Chapter 5
The two Malone brothers and Rafe all arrived at the sheriff’s department at eight o’clock the next morning.
Sean climbed out of his car and approached the other men as they stood at the far end of the parking lot, staring at the crowd gathered at the main entrance.
Multiple news vans occupied the lot as cameramen and reporters littered the front walkway of the building.
“This can’t be good,” Sean murmured.
Brian rolled his eyes. “You think? Let’s just hope it has nothing to do with our serial.”
“Twenty bucks says it does,” Rafe dared.
His partner snorted. “Even I’m not crazy enough to take that bet. And speaking of which, you still owe me twenty from the game the other night.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. I forgot to roll my loose change for you.”
“Asshole. Don’t laugh, Sean, but this jackass did that to me once,” Brian complained. “Paid his fucking fifty-dollar bet in dimes, nickels, and pennies.”
Sean shook his head. The two of them sound more like an old married couple than coworkers. But the thought of pennies had his mind going back to the case, and it was hard to laugh while thinking about that.
The lawmen managed to make their way through the chaos unnoticed.
Although Sean was dressed in a dark suit, and the other men were in sports coats with their weapons and badges concealed, leaving no outward sign they were in law enforcement.
As a result, the press didn’t question them as they entered the station.
Showing their IDs to the deputy at the front desk, they were buzzed into the back hallway and went straight to Griffin’s office.
His secretary, Nancy Kessler, was simultaneously talking on the phone and writing on a memo pad when they entered the reception area.
Her husband taught history at the local high school and had coached both Brian and Sean in football when they were younger.
Nancy recognized the brothers immediately, smiled, and gestured for the men to take seats for a moment.
The sheriff’s door was closed, but they could hear him yelling through the frosted glass.
“I want to know who the fucking leak is, and I want to know now! All hell is breaking loose out there, and we’re no closer to finding this son of a bitch than we were two months ago.
I’ve got every goddamned politician in Dare County demanding answers, and I’ve got nothing for them.
“Brooks, I want you to pass the word that no one… I repeat… no one is to talk to the press about this case without permission from me. And, Dworski, since every pain-in-the-ass reporter and news station in the area is outside, you might as well make a statement.”
Another male voice responded, “What do you want me to say? Or not say?”
“Say we have three homicides that may be related. We’ve formed a task force that includes state and federal investigators.
Everything possible is being done to catch this bastard.
No specific details about the murders. The pennies and the carvings are to be kept under wraps.
Tell them we’ve stepped up patrols, women should take extra precautions, yada, yada. You know the fucking routine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can also tell them we’ll be holding daily press conferences at 11:00 a.m. starting tomorrow.
If we do that, hopefully, that’ll stop some of those reporters from snooping around.
I doubt it, but it’s worth a shot.” The man paused.
“And if I catch anyone from this department talking to any reporter without permission, even if it’s the damn maintenance staff, I swear there’ll be hell to pay.
They’ll be cleaning every patrol car and piece of equipment with a goddamned toothbrush for the next three years. Dismissed.”
The door opened suddenly, and two uniformed captains exited the office, followed by the sheriff. “Nancy, hold my calls for the next hour or so unless it’s an emergency. I’ve got a pounding headache.”
His secretary nodded, the phone’s receiver still held to her ear.
She opened the top drawer of her desk and handed her boss a bottle of ibuprofen.
Griffin grunted his thanks as he took it from her before turning to the three men waiting for him.
“I was wondering when the damn press was going to come knocking. Come on in, guys. Join the party.”
Entering the office, they found another man sitting at the conference table. He stood as they approached, and Sean immediately recognized him as Jack Lynch’s father.
Griffin introduced all of them. “Brad Lynch, you already know Brian and Sean Malone, and this is Rafe Montoya, also from the SBI.”
The men all shook the detective’s hand, and then Brad grinned at Brian. “Hey, nice drug bust a few weeks ago.”
Sean knew he was referring to a huge bust that’d gone down that had included Brian, a team from the state police, and some DEA agents. They’d taken a million dollars worth of marijuana, cocaine, and ecstasy off the streets.
Brian nodded his thanks as Brad addressed Sean. “Good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”
He nodded. “At least five years. How’ve you been?”
“Good, good. Just got back from Jack’s wedding.”
“I heard. Give him my congratulations.”
“I will.” They all sat around the conference table. “Your Uncle Dan told me you were moving back here.”
“Took a post in Greenville to be closer to the family.”
“Yeah, he also told me KC and his wife are expecting. That’s great.”
From his seat at the head of the table, Sheriff Griffin cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, you can catch up with each other later. Let’s get through this so that I can get rid of you and this fucking headache at the same time.”
Brian tossed his notepad on the table in front of him. “How bad is the leak?”
Scowling, Matt ran a hand down his face. “I’m not sure. The press doesn’t seem to know many details, but somehow they got a hold of the victims’ names and where they were dumped.”
“Shit,” Montoya murmured.
That was putting it mildly. It was obvious from the sheriff’s expression and demeanor that when he found the leak, he was going to plug it…
permanently. Whoever was spouting information was potentially putting a conviction in jeopardy if an arrest was ever made.
“I agree. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road. Brad?”
The lead detective recapped for everyone what they knew about the first two murders.
“Two months ago, Becky Travis, twenty-two, left a friend’s party after drinking almost half a bottle of vodka by herself.
She apparently did a disappearing act on them without saying goodbye and was walking home, which was three blocks away.
From what we can tell, she never made it.
Two days later, she was found in an alley by sanitation workers in Kitty Hawk.
Naked, with ligature strangulation, ‘slut’ carved into her torso, and a penny on her forehead.
No witnesses. Videos from local businesses were scarce and revealed nothing that seemed out of the ordinary.
“Three weeks ago, Shannon Emerson, twenty-four, was at a bachelorette party at a place called The Toy Box in Elizabeth City. They have a male strip show at nine—get the girls all hot and bothered—then open the place up to men at ten thirty. Her friends never saw her leave. Apparently, everyone was pretty toasted and didn’t realize she was gone until around one a.m. She was supposed to be the ride home for two of the other women. Her car was still in the parking lot.”
“Any surveillance video?” Montoya asked.
Lynch shook his head. “The video from inside is black and white and very grainy. We were able to pick her out a few times, but she was still with her friends at that point. After it got crowded in there, it was hard to tell one person from another. The outside cameras hadn’t been working for weeks, and management hadn’t gotten around to fixing them.
“Anyway, the vic was found at the edge of a wooded area next to the soccer field of Manteo High School. The gardener was mowing the grass and spotted the body an hour before students started showing up, so we were able to isolate the area. Her condition was the same as the other one. No clothes were recovered from either scene, but from photos taken at both parties, the vics were dressed to impress. We checked out the ex-boyfriends on both women and didn’t come up with any leads.
Neither one told family or friends about any stalkers or problems with anyone.
And as far as we can tell, their lives didn’t intersect with each other. ”
Sean took over from there, giving the two detectives the information on the latest homicide and what they’d uncovered about the victim so far.
“It sounds like he’s going after blonde party girls.
Daphne was all dressed up, too, according to her roommate.
Also, no stalkers. Her last steady boyfriend was a year ago.
It ended amicably when he moved to California for business.
No other leads yet. It’s possible these women were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Victims of opportunity.”
He paused, then added, “I’m curious about the dump sites.
The first two were left in places where they would be found relatively fast. But Daphne was left in a wooded area.
If it weren’t for the dogs, she wouldn’t have been easily spotted from the trail.
It could mean something or absolutely nothing. ”
Griffin reported that they still hadn’t located Stuart Crowell, but patrols were actively looking for him.
“What are the chances he’s our killer?” he asked, directing his question to the federal agent.