Chapter Eight
The following morning, Gunnar went for a long run, showered then had breakfast alone. Emmett arrived and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before heading for the office and Gunnar went to join him.
“Where’s Bryn?” Emmett asked as he got settled.
“I’m letting him sleep. All those truth readings yesterday took it out of him. He doesn’t complain but he was exhausted.”
“Yeah, he didn’t say much when you came back. He gets bad headaches, doesn’t he?”
“What he can do is miraculous, but it comes at a cost. He’ll be fine later. Grumpy but fine.”
“How did it go? Oh, I have the report through. You must have been up late doing that.”
“I hate paperwork. If I don’t do it straight away it builds up.”
“My ideal cop. So, of the pool of potential jurors, five had been tampered with. Two threatened and three paid off. Wow.”
“Yeah. Not great.”
“So what’s the case?” Emmett hammered at his keyboard. “Oh, I see. Mafia money guy. He could bring down a lot of nasty people.”
“Yes, Emmett, he could. A lot of powerful people who don’t have much in the way of moral compasses.”
“Suspected of working for Salvatore Russo, aka ‘The Hammer’. He’s never been convicted of a crime despite being suspected of racketeering, extortion, money laundering, illegal gambling, bribery, tax evasion, cargo theft and contract killing.
Wow, what a charmer. Lots of financial stuff there, how did they bring in his accountant? ”
“Some Dutch forensic auditor spotted obscure anomalies in the books of a company that looked legit but turned out to be a front for one of Russo’s European operations. After that there was a domino effect. She’s in a coma after a hit and run.”
“A calculator can be a dangerous weapon. Poor woman.”
“Yeah. So this case is important. Bryn has made sure it starts off on the right foot, though it’ll be delayed now while action is taken to call new jurors.”
“Is there any way that Russo will know who tossed a wrench in his gears?”
“In theory, no. In practice? His web is extensive. I came across the aftermath of his activities in my previous job more often than I would have liked. He’s ruthless. Bryn’s a target anyway because he’s an augur, but he’s bound to make enemies the more work he does.”
“My sparkling personality makes me popular.” Bryn slunk into the room, coffee in one hand, Pop-Tart in the other. “What time is it?”
“Time we started work,” Gunnar said. “Emmett, did you reach the cashier from Walmart?”
“Yeah. She’ll meet you at the Honey Dew’s coffee place near the Walmart parking lot at eleven. Her shift starts at midday.”
“Okay, what else do we have today?”
“An interesting one. Your FBI friend Agent Bell made a request. I’ve sent you the details already but, in short, he has a witness to a murder he’d like Bryn to read.”
“Dubious witness?” Bryn munched his Pop-Tart. “Fuck, why is the filling in these things the temperature of molten lava?”
“Because you have to let the steam out, genius.” Gunnar shook his head. “Carry on, Emmett.”
“The witness is a nineteen-year-old kid. Address is a homeless hostel. He’d just finished…
servicing…a client. The guy had left and the witness was saved because he was still on his knees and concealed by a dumpster.
He’s in shock and his mind seems to have blocked out what he saw.
Cops found him behind the dumpster, rocking and crying. ”
“Christ on a stick, this world sucks,” Bryn muttered.
“So why’s the case with the feds and not Boston PD?” Gunnar asked.
“The murder has hallmarks of several other active cases. Once they got linked, Bell picked up the cases.”
“Possible serial killer then?” Gunnar frowned.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck’s sake. How many serial killers are there in this fucking city?” Bryn drained his coffee.
“Difficult to estimate,” Emmett said. “FBI intelligence suggests there could be anywhere from twenty-five to fifty active serial killers in the country at any given moment.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No, Bryn, I am not. If you need some reassurance, advances in forensic science and technology, along with better investigative techniques, make it more challenging for serial killers to remain undetected for long.”
“Oh, that make me feel so much better.”
“Some aren’t linked to multiple crimes until they’ve been operating a while and that could be the case here.”
“Fabulous. Does Boston have more than its fair share of these psychos?”
“No way of knowing,” Emmett said with a shrug. “The city does have two famous murderous alumni. You have to have heard of The Boston Strangler.”
“I was only off the grid for three years, not an entire lifetime,” Bryn responded.
“He was believed to be responsible for the murders of thirteen women, most of whom were strangled in their homes.”
“In the sixties, right?”
“Yeah. Albert DeSalvo confessed to the murders, though there are theories that he might not have been the only killer. Then there was another one in the late seventies called The Giggler.”
“I haven’t heard of that one,” Bryn admitted. “Why do they always get names?”
“He supposedly giggled while he was murdering young women, but it could be an urban legend. The case was never solved.”
“Fabulous. So, what does Bell need?”
“Full read. He thinks this kid’s mind is protecting him, but maybe you’ll be able to see past it.”
“Yeah. Won’t be a problem.”
“Set it up then, Emmett. This afternoon should work.” Gunnar sat at his desk. “In the meantime, we can familiarize ourselves with what we know about Betty-Jo Jackson.”
They worked quietly until it was time for Gunnar and Bryn to leave for their interview with Betty-Jo. Gunnar peered out of the window. Rain was lashing down and looked set in for the day.
“We’ll take the car. It’s miserable out there.”
“Fine by me,” Bryn said.
“We can grab lunch after we’ve seen her then go from there to see this witness. Will you let Agent Bell know our schedule, Emmett?”
“Sure…wait, there’s a message coming in with a red flag.”
“Red flag?”
“Means it’s from Warden. Oh. Oh no.”
“What is it?”
“Betty-Jo won’t be making it to your appointment. She’s been found dead near her apartment.”
“Fuck.” Gunnar went to look over Emmett’s shoulder. “What else do you know?”
“Not much. Warden has people tracing anything and everything to do with your cases so someone must have picked it up. He’ll clear it with the on-scene team for you to be there if you want to head straight over. I’ll send you the location.”
“This is because of us, isn’t it?” Bryn said, pacing the small office.
“We don’t know that.” Gunnar wanted to make Bryn feel better but deep down he knew this couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Yet.” Bryn put on his gloves. “Let’s go.”
Gunnar had to fight down his frustration as he drove through heavy traffic made worse by the pounding rain.
Bryn was silent in the passenger seat, his face turned away.
Gunnar let him be. He had the mess of his own feelings to deal with and he was worried about what they were driving toward.
Bryn hadn’t been to a crime scene before and, though Gunnar already had an inkling that Bryn’s training hadn’t been a walk in the park, this would be different.
He slotted the Taurus between two black and whites, then grabbed his jacket from the back seat. Bryn already had on his coat. Black, of course.
“You ready for this?” Gunnar patted Bryn’s thigh.
“No, but what the hell.”
“Okay then.” Gunnar got out of the car. Bryn joined him and together they walked through the downpour to an area cordoned off with crime scene tape. As they approached, Gunnar spotted a familiar face. “Special Agent Bell, we weren’t expecting to see you here.”
“Your boss called me, gave me a heads-up about the case. It’s possible this is the same killer you’re seeing the witness about this afternoon, so it may well become my case. Shall we see what the cop in charge has to say?”
“Yeah. We’re looking for a Lieutenant Sullivan.
” Gunnar flashed his badge at the nearest cop, who pointed out the lieutenant.
He lifted the tape so Bryn, Gunnar and Agent Bell could walk through.
Sullivan was standing at the end of a narrow alley, peering into the gloom.
Crime scene techs scurried around and a few yards away a tent had been erected over what Gunnar assumed must be the body.
“Sullivan?”
“That’s me. Are you the guys from GCR? I got a call.”
“That’s us.” Gunnar introduced himself and Bryn. “And this is Special Agent Bell, FBI.”
“You taking the case, Bell?” Sullivan asked.
“That’s what I’m here to work out. What can you tell us?”
“It’s a real bad scene. We got a call this morning from a guy heading home from his night shift.
He found the victim, a woman in her mid-thirties, who we now know to be Betty-Jo Jackson.
This is only a block away from her residence.
From what we can tell, she was attacked late last night, maybe on her way home.
It’s a quiet neighborhood, so something like this really shakes folks up.
No obvious signs of a robbery, so it could be personal.
We’re still piecing it together, but this wasn’t random.
We’ve got people canvassing the area, and we’ll be looking at any surveillance footage we can get our hands on.
” He pulled out a notebook. “I can tell you what the ME said, with a big caveat that this all has to be confirmed at autopsy.”
“Go ahead.”
“The victim has multiple stab wounds, concentrated primarily in the chest and abdominal areas, with some defensive wounds on the arms and hands, suggesting she tried to fend off the attack. The depth and angle of the wounds indicate the use of a sharp, single-edged weapon, likely a knife. Based on the wound patterns, it appears the assailant struck with considerable force. Blood loss was significant. Time of death is estimated to be around four to six hours prior to discovery, based on early signs of rigor mortis and lividity. That would put the attack between eleven and one.”