Chapter 13 Dominique
Dominique
Kobe relayed the address, and we drove separately. I contacted Dr. Duchaine, the on-call pathologist, and told her I was in the area and would take over. She wasn’t upset since she’d been pulled from bed and gladly let me have the case.
Next, I called the babysitter, a high school student whom Cosette adored.
She was happy to stay longer. I paid well, so most of the girls I hired were agreeable and flexible when it came to my ever-changing schedule.
Besides, they all knew I didn’t care if they slept on the couch after Cosette was in bed, and I paid double after midnight, so win-win.
I parked behind Kobe, across from the Thompson Residence off Cumberland Street.
The body had been discovered in a secluded quad behind the building.
The local police had Cumberland and Copernicus Street blocked off, including the section of University Private that ran in between.
Hordes of students had gathered outside a taped line, huddled against the cold, whispering to their fellow classmates.
After collecting my gear from the trunk of my car, I followed Kobe to the cordoned-off area where his partner waited, chatting with a uniformed constable. Our arrival—together—did not go unnoticed.
Detective Hayashi eyed me skeptically, offering a tight smile. “Evening, Doctor.” Her breath frosted the air. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I tipped my head in greeting. “Change of plans. I’m going to get started.”
“I’ll be there in a few.” Kobe winked and touched my elbow. The December chill vanished, replaced by liquid heat that coated my insides.
I needed to focus. I had an important job to do, and getting lost in Kobe’s affections wouldn’t help.
The entire quad was lit with a half dozen floodlights.
News traveled fast, especially on campus.
Swarms of professionals were already on scene, doing all they could to control and contain: street patrol, paramedics, and crime scene investigators.
Everyone looked half frozen, bouncing on the balls of their feet to keep warm as they blew on cold hands.
The nighttime temperature had plummeted.
So far, I didn’t see the press, but they would arrive soon enough.
Among the crowd were a handful of frazzled university administrators.
With the approaching Christmas holiday and exams ending, campus bustle had died off. Many students had gone home, and the few that remained stayed indoors, hiding from the weather.
Tragedy had brought everyone to the quad.
I took mental notes of everything and everyone as I signed in, donned protective gear, and ducked under the tape.
Rue had told Kobe that the MO matched the other victims. It wouldn’t take long for it to hit the news.
Kobe had called it at the Apothecary. This was officially considered a serial, and the presence of a serial killer in Ottawa would put everyone on alert.
I felt it already. Tension rippled through the air.
Whispers traveled on the breeze. Everyone was on edge.
I secured a photographer from the CSI team and aimed for the center of the commotion.
Another body on another bench. Another flower and another note.
While the CSI photographer snapped pictures on my instruction, I admired the scene with a critical eye for detail.
The presentation perfectly mirrored the second victim, right down to the location of the spike and the neatly folded clothes on the far side of the bench.
Kobe called it escalation. I saw precision.
Kobe and his partner arrived as the photographer finished with the wider spectrum shots and moved closer to get the minute details that might easily be missed at first glance.
Kobe groaned and made a face, spinning in a circle as he tipped his head to the sky. “Ah, man. Through the penis again? What the hell is wrong with this perp?”
“It’s almost identical to the second killing,” his partner said, scrutinizing the scene.
Kobe’s head bobbed as he gave an unnecessary rundown. “Early to mid-twenties, naked, strangled, and… pierced.” Wincing, he blew out his cheeks, a cloud forming and dissipating into the cold night. “Why, why, why?”
“This is a gutsy location,” his partner said, glancing around. “And the time of night is risky. How did no one see it happen?”
She was right. This kill took courage, especially considering the potential for a busy quad and the time of day.
Kobe glanced around, nodding his agreement.
The victim’s neck had more abrasions than the first two and significantly more bruising, evidence that he’d fought a vicious battle for his life.
The spike, although inserted exactly where Kobe announced, had fallen over.
The flaccid penis had not provided a stable enough base.
The white rose lay across the man’s upper thigh.
The ribbon and note dangled in midair, spinning when the breeze blew.
Kobe had yet to perform a verbal walk-through of the murder, but I envisioned it clearly. Every step. It was hastier than the previous kill. Tiny details stood out. I was sure the detectives would notice, but I’d wait until I was asked to give my opinion.
I closed my mind to the horrors and got to work, going through the motions of recording evidence, taking measurements, and scrutinizing every detail of the presentation and kill.
In a homicide, a forensic pathologist’s evaluation came first. A dead body spoke volumes if you knew where to look, how to look, and what to look for.
We appraised every nuance of the murder, starting at the crime scene and ending on the autopsy table.
It was up to us to determine as much about the killing as possible, from cause to method to determining as precise a timeframe as possible.
Kobe and his partner might be paramount in hunting down the killer, but they couldn’t tamper with a scene until they had the green light from forensics. Me. This was my rodeo, and I commanded order on my crime scene. No one interrupted until I finished.
The pair rotated around the body at a distance, murmuring back and forth, sharing their thoughts at a volume I couldn’t hear.
They scanned, scowled, and took their own notes.
Kobe walked a wide berth, attention on the ground, but the quad had seen enough traffic during the day that a quick glance told me he wouldn’t be lucky enough to pinpoint where the attack had taken place this time.
It hadn’t snowed in days, and the mucky, winter grass and paths contained multitudes of prints going every which way.
I answered as many questions as I could, referring back to my staple response. “I’ll know more once he’s on the table.”
Detectives hated that answer, and seeing the frustration on Kobe’s face every time I said it made me wish I could say more.
Once I gave them permission to get closer to the body, Kobe started with the victim’s wallet that sat on the pile of folded clothes at the end of the bench, exactly like the previous victim. His partner crouched to examine the drooping flower and note.
Upon locating the dead man’s driver’s license, Kobe let out a sharp “Ha!”
When his partner arched a brow, he turned the ID to face her. “Ford Carrigan. Sound familiar?”
Rue stood and took the ID from Kobe’s hand, reading it for herself. “Son of a bitch.”
To me, Kobe said, “The second vic, Jesse Vargas, this is one of his friends. Apparently, they used to cause trouble with the female population on campus.”
Rue handed Kobe back the card, and he slid it into the wallet. To his partner, he muttered, “These guys fucked with the wrong person. If anything those girls told us was true, then good fucking riddance. I won’t lose sleep over them. That’s for sure.”
Rue glared lasers at her partner and yanked Kobe’s arm, dragging him out of earshot.
He stumbled to keep up. She had a whole lot to say to her younger partner, and Kobe’s nostrils flared as he stared at the ground, clearly unhappy at the reprimand.
When she finished, he nodded. She spoke again. He nodded again, sharper that time.
The pair returned. Kobe wouldn’t meet my gaze. Hot pink crescents stood high on his cheekbones. I doubted they were a result of the frigid wind.
Detective Hayashi ordered him to look at the note.
I busied myself, tidying gear and chatting with the CSI photographer. Once the detectives were satisfied, the body could be moved to the lab. I would rearrange my schedule and get to it first thing in the morning.
Kobe remarked on the lingering scent of tropical perfume.
Hayashi speculated about the note. A malicious dick, it read.
“Is the insertion point the same?” Hayashi asked, scrutinizing the speared penis. “It looks identically placed.”
“It appears so.” I snapped off my gloves, pocketing them. “I’ll know more precisely when he’s on the table.”
By the time the body was removed, it was after one in the morning, and I was numb with cold, ready to head home for a hot shower and a stiff drink. Kobe spoke to his partner on the other side of the cordoned area before she marched off, circling the residence building and vanishing from sight.
Kobe briefly locked eyes with me before ducking his head. He looked uncomfortable and unsure, which was out of character for the Cop Kobe I’d come to know.
I approached, my gear bag slung over my shoulder. “Did your partner leave?”
“We’re convening in the morning. It’s too late to do anything tonight,” he explained, blowing hot air into his palms and rubbing them together. “Fuck it’s cold. I can’t feel my toes, and my ears are aching.”
“Same.”
It was the first time Kobe had spoken to me since Hayashi had harshly disciplined him while in my presence. He was embarrassed; that much was evident. The last part of the comment he’d made played on repeat inside my head. Good fucking riddance. I won’t lose sleep over them. That’s for sure.