CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I’m going to check on the kids.” Worried, Bree dialed Luke’s cell number while Matt drove toward the station.
Luke answered on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Hey. How are you?”
“I’m OK.” He yawned. “Doing a little homework. It’s only been, like, a few hours.”
“I know. But I worry. How’s Kayla?”
“She’s eating a Popsicle and watching that Australian cartoon with the blue dog. George is making soup.”
“OK. Good.”
“Aunt Bree, we’re fine,” Luke said. “Being spoiled rotten, actually.”
“Also good. Don’t push the schoolwork, OK? Get some rest.”
“Is that Aunt Bree?” Kayla yelled in the background. “Can I talk?”
“Hold on,” Luke said. “Aunt Bree, be careful.”
“Always.”
Kayla’s nasally voice came over the phone. “Grandpa is making soup, and Grandma got puzzles down from the attic.” The little girl sounded better than when she’d been at home.
“That’s nice.”
“I like having a sleepover here. Grandpa says I can stay here whenever I want, even when I’m not sick.” Kayla sounded very happy for a child with the flu.
“That’s really nice.” Bree choked up and cleared her throat.
“Here’s Grandma.” Fabric rustled over the connection.
“Bree?” Anna asked.
“Just checking in on them,” Bree said.
“They’re fine, but you call whenever you need to.” Anna always knew what to say. “Kayla’s fever is down, but we expect it will come back later this evening. They usually do. Don’t you worry, though. George is on top of it.”
“I know he is.” Gratefulness swamped Bree. “Thanks so much for taking care of them.”
“We love having them here, and you know George is never happier than when he gets to doctor people,” Anna said. “Now, you and Matt look after each other. Stop by if you have time tonight, anytime.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bree ended the call. “Your parents are the best.”
“Now that I’m an adult, I have to agree with you.”
“You didn’t always think so?”
“Well, I was a teenager.” Matt chuckled. “Dad always wanted to talk about everything.”
“The horror.”
“To a teen, it was.” Matt grinned.
Bree called Dana next to check on things at the farm. The horses were fine. Nolan had just checked on them, and he was going to stay overnight and help Dana keep watch. Bree hung up and lowered her phone.
At the station, she went into her office. Marge appeared in three seconds, setting a cup of coffee in front of Bree. “You have messages, but first, breathe. They’ll keep.”
Bree lifted the coffee and drank deeply. There wasn’t enough caffeine to make her brain feel fully functional today. Her phone vibrated, and Madeline Jager’s name appeared on the screen.
“Let it go to voice mail.” Adjusting her cardigan, Marge turned toward the door.
“No point. She’ll just keep calling.” Bree pressed “Answer.” “Sheriff Taggert.”
“Sheriff,” Jager said. “I heard about what happened to you this morning. Was it him? Did the serial killer leave that body at your house?”
“Of course we don’t have information from Dr. Jones yet, but I believe so.”
“Is your family safe?”
“Yes.” Bree waited for the catch. Jager was never this nice.
“I’m glad.” Jager cleared her throat. “We had an emergency meeting of the board of supervisors. We’ll approve extra funding for overtime.”
“That will be helpful.”
“Are you going to call the FBI?” Jager asked.
Bree decided on the spot, surprising herself with her quick answer. “Yes. They have resources we can’t access, and we could use all the help we can get.”
“We agree, and we’ll leave that decision to you.”
“Seriously?” Bree would have stopped the outburst, but exhaustion had lowered her guard.
“Yes.” Jager sighed. “The fourth body makes it impossible to deny that you were right. We have a serial killer in Randolph County.” Jager produced serial killer with some difficulty. Her voice sounded strained, as if the call were using all her available energy. “He must be stopped at all costs.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Bree was going all out anyway, but not having to simultaneously fight the board was a nice change.
“That was all. I just wanted to say be careful. This killer seems to have targeted you.”
“I will. Thank you for your concern.”
Jager ended the call without a single criticism. Bree lowered the phone and stared at it. Then she made the call to the FBI field office in Albany.
Matt appeared in the doorway as she set down her phone. “What’s wrong?”
“I had the strangest call.” Bree summarized her conversation with Jager.
“Weird.”
“Honestly, it’s a bit disconcerting. We had a rhythm, you know? She’d be hostile. I’d grind my molars. Animosity worked for us. I don’t know what to do now. Cooperation just doesn’t feel right.” Jager’s acquiescence was so out of character, it made the hairs on the backs of Bree’s forearms stand straight up.
Matt frowned. “Don’t drop your guard. The board is calculating. They can’t deny the serial killer, so they’ve shifted into back the blue mode. It’ll pass, probably when overtime starts adding up. Also, consider that giving you full authority fully absolves them of any responsibility. If shit goes even more sideways, it’s your neck on the line.”
“I knew it was too good to be true.” Bree was almost relieved to know that Jager probably had an ulterior motive, like the ground was solid beneath her feet again.
“I just requested help from the FBI.” Bree lifted both hands in a giving up gesture. “While we are capable of running this investigation, we are short-staffed and overextended due to this flu. We’ve been lucky so far this week in that usual local criminals have been quiet.”
“They probably all have the flu too,” Matt said.
“We can hope that continues until we’ve recovered, but our killer is escalating quickly. We can’t keep up.” Bree shuffled through her messages. None were related to the case. She tossed them aside.
“What’s the ETA for the FBI?”
“Don’t know yet. They’re also short-staffed due to the flu and a missing-child case utilizing local resources, but I was promised a callback ASAP.” She set her palms on the desk and pushed to her feet. “Now, let’s get to the conference room and try to make some sense of this case.”
“Todd is already there.” Matt withdrew.
Bree gathered her notes, grabbed her laptop, and headed for the conference room. Matt was hanging a photo of Jana Rynski on the board next to the pictures of Ally Swanson and Trish Bitten. Todd concentrated on his laptop screen.
Bree settled at the table with her notepad, files, and computer. “Todd, did you run the ViCAP query?”
“I did.” Todd tapped on his keyboard. “Our lack of information made for broad search parameters. We don’t even have a cause of death for two of the victims. Wrapping remains in tarps isn’t a unique concept, but the camouflage print is unusual. I only found one set of remains where the killer also used that type of tarp to wrap his victims. But that crime was solved, and the killer convicted three years ago. He’s currently serving a life sentence in Nebraska. I ran a second query using tarps of any kind, thinking maybe this killer changed that aspect of his pattern. The second query returned a few dozen unsolved cases, but only two that fit the other identifiers. One of those cases is a body dump site in South Carolina. Two sets of female remains were found in the woods near I-95 in 2015. In the second case, a woman was found in a state park in Delaware in 2018. I have calls in to the detectives in charge of both of those cases. We’ll see if I turn anything up when I speak to them.”
“Good work. Keep at it.” Bree referred to her checklist. “Let’s move on to individual cases, starting with Jana. Her mother spoke to her at eight thirty-five Tuesday evening. The neighbor also saw Jana at her mailbox between five or six p.m., confirming she was still alive at that time. Do we have Jana’s phone records?”
Todd scrolled on his computer. “We do. I see the phone call with her mother Tuesday evening. The call wrapped up at 9:02. That’s the last time she used her phone. Her typical pattern was to use her phone every day for at least a text or two.”
“Who did she typically text with?” Bree asked.
“Her mother, her neighbor, her boss.” Todd dragged two fingers along his laptop trackpad. “Also a bunch of random numbers that aren’t regular contacts.” He typed a note. “Scarlet Hair Salon, Randolph Dental Care, Speedy Lube, Vital Care Network, the community college, Sal’s Pizza.” He looked up.
“No red flags,” Bree said.
“None,” Todd said. “Her phone service provider doesn’t retain text message content. Unless we find Jana’s phone, we won’t have details of her texts.”
Bree checked her notes. “She didn’t show up to work on Thursday, which is not typical behavior, and she was dead this morning.” She pictured the blood stains in Jana’s apartment. “She was likely taken either Tuesday after nine p.m. or Wednesday evening after dark. I can’t imagine anyone attempting to haul a bleeding woman out of her apartment in broad daylight.”
Matt tapped a knuckle on the whiteboard. “Chevy was stalking Jana at her apartment and at her place of employment.”
“We haven’t linked him to any other victims,” Bree said.
“Is it possible he killed Jana and then tried to make it look like the serial killer took her?” Todd asked.
“He pissed in her bed and set it on fire.” Matt underlined a bullet point. “I’d say anything is possible with Chevy.”
“But,” Bree said, “we didn’t publicize the detail about the camouflage tarps.”
Todd drummed his fingers on the table. “There were no media photos of the bodies?”
“I don’t think so.” Bree rubbed the back of her neck. “The bodies were bagged before they were removed from the clearing.”
“Let’s check social media.” Todd scrolled for all of forty-five seconds. “There’s a photo.” He turned his laptop to face Bree and Matt. On the screen, a tarp-wrapped body lay half-buried under dead leaves.
“Who posted it?” Matt asked.
Todd tapped on his keyboard. “Nick West from WSNY News.”
Bree’s skin heated. “Where did he get the photo?”
Todd checked his screen. “Doesn’t say.”
Matt leaned closer. “That looks like one of the original bodies in the clearing. The photo has been cropped in close, so I can’t tell which one.”
Bree jabbed a finger at Todd’s laptop. “We will find out who took that picture. We’ve had no luck finding the department leaker up until now, but the number of people who were in that clearing is limited.”
“I’ll review the crime scene log and refine the list according to who arrived before the bodies were removed,” Todd said.
Matt blew air through his nostrils. “People suck.”
“Hardly matters now,” Todd added. “Once a photo is on the internet, there’s no way to erase it. The information about the tarps is out there.”
Matt leaned on the wall, intentionally tapping the back of his head on the whiteboard three times.
“I’ll call Nick West and ask him to take it down.” Bree and the young reporter had an on-and-off rapport of sorts. This post seemed beneath him, but he occasionally dipped a toe on the wrong side of the moral tightrope. “But you’re right, Todd. The damage is done.”
That wouldn’t stop Bree from making her point with the reporter. If she let this inch go, other reporters and news stations would take a mile next time.
Bree checked the time. A typical autopsy would take about four hours. “Dr. Jones will do the autopsy ASAP. Hopefully, we’ll have an approximate time of death soon and can then inquire as to Chevy’s whereabouts. Until then, let’s move on to Ally.”
“We learned that Ally was likely prostituting herself for drug money. She was crashing in an empty room at the motel as well. The manager, Simon, denies knowing her well, but the other maid thinks Ally was having sex with Simon, probably so he’d ignore her extracurricular activities at the motel. Simon claims to barely know her, which is clearly a lie. We need a full background check on Simon.”
“Already ran him.” Todd clicked his trackpad. “Because he was Ally’s boss. He doesn’t have a criminal record. I’ll dig deeper and see if I can link him to the other victims.”
“You interviewed Trish Bitten’s boyfriend and sister?” Bree asked Todd.
“Yes. Earlier today, after I talked with Detective Dane about the original missing person case filed with the Scarlet Falls PD.” Todd opened a new window on his computer. “Dane made a copy of the surveillance video from the college parking lot.” Todd played the video, fast-forwarding through a few minutes of no activity. “Here comes Trish now.”
They watched a young woman stride through the snow, a dark-blue backpack slung over one shoulder. She wore a pale-blue puffy jacket, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. Her white hat matched a thick scarf wound around her neck. Heavy black gloves covered her hands. She dropped the backpack into the back seat, then started the engine. While the car warmed up, she scraped frost off the windows. Then she drove away.
Bree wondered how long she’d lived after this moment. “I don’t see anyone following her.”
Todd fast-forwarded again. “Ten minutes pass before we see another student.” A dark-haired girl walked through the parking lot, cleared her windows, and left the campus. “The winter term is limited, with less activity on campus than during the regular semester.” He played the video again, making a circle around Trish’s car with his finger. “The SFPD identified the surrounding cars. All were students who had legitimate business on campus.”
Matt leaned in to get a better view of the screen. “He could have been waiting for her near the entrance to the college, then followed her vehicle.”
Todd stopped the video. “We have no way of knowing. The road leading to the college is rural. No cameras. Trish’s vehicle hasn’t been located. The SFPD worked the case for months, but eventually, they had to back-burner it.”
The longer a case dragged on without a resolution, the less likely it was to be solved. Detectives had to work fresher cases.
“I’m still going through the case file,” Todd said. “We still don’t have an ID on the last body?”
“Correct,” Bree verified.
“We’ve received initial forensics reports from the clearing and Jana’s apartment,” Todd said. “I only had a chance to skim them so far, but I haven’t seen anything interesting. The clearing contained very little. No water bottles. No cigarette butts. No litter. Reports on soil sample, entomology, et cetera, will take time.”
“Copy us, and we’ll all go through them.” Bree believed in fresh eyes on reports. You never knew what detail might stand out to different people. “Have you made any progress obtaining Jana’s and Trish’s transcripts?”
“The college hasn’t complied yet, but Trish’s transcript is in the SFPD file, and forensics found a copy of Jana’s in her car. I’m not sure what to think about what I’ve found.” Todd turned to his file. He removed two pages and set them side by side. “As we know, the two girls didn’t attend school at the same time. But they did have a few of the same general education classes. For one of those—Statistics 101—they had the same professor.”
“How popular is this statistics class?” Matt asked.
Todd laid a palm flat on the page. “The class fulfills a specific graduation requirement. About a hundred and fifty students take it each semester. I know we don’t love coincidences, but they happen.”
“Over the past two years, at least six hundred kids took that class?” Matt asked.
“That’s right,” Todd said.
“Who is the professor?” Bree asked.
Todd rested a finger on a name. “Howard Killian.”
Shock glued Bree to her chair. She didn’t move for two heartbeats. “I arrested him the other night. You were still out sick.” She summarized the domestic violence call.
“Maybe it’s not a coincidence,” Todd said.
“Where is Howard Killian now?” Matt asked.
“Out on bail.” Propping her elbows on the table, Bree rubbed her temples with two hands. “Let’s go see him.” She’d locked the key Grace had given her in her bottom desk drawer. “We can return his key.”
“Killian knew two of the victims.” Matt stretched both arms over his head. “That makes him a prime suspect.”