Chapter Eight
Mariska
We pull up next to the city Medical Examiner van and get out. Levi is standing at the back and snaps his head in my direction. “Bitch…” Levi says with a grin.
“I’ll explain later,” I laugh.
“Are you two…”
“Yes, we are together. He left her,” I say, and he grins at me.
“Hell yeah. And Zeke? If you hurt my girl, it will be the last thing you ever do. Kay?”
“I know,” Zeke says, smiling. “What do we have?”
“Come see,” he says.
We walk with Levi down the sidewalk of the Eastside park and join the rest of our team with forensics. “Hey,” Kevin says, glancing at us.
“Oh, God,” I say, looking at the dismembered woman on the ground.
“Ever seen a crime scene before?” Geno asks me.
“Only pictures,” I say, squatting down to look closer at the woman’s face. “Harper Sloane. This is Harper Sloane.”
“You know her?” Kevin asks.
“She’s dating Ricky Tulsa,” I say. “He’s a professional hockey player. He is with the Atlanta Icebreakers.”
“There’s a new missing persons report opened by a Richard Tulsa,” Parker says, looking at his tablet.
“Send him to me to identify her,” Levi says.
“What do you see?” Zeke asks, squatting down next to me.
“What’s on her nails?” I ask. “Was that on any of the others?”
“No, they were clean. That’s new,” Levi says. “I’ll test it when I get her back.”
“The cuts are very clean,” I remark. “When you get her unwrapped from the plastic wrap, can I come see?”
“Yeah,” Levi says.
“Shit,” Kevin says. “Boyfriend is here. So is the media. Bag her now.”
Levi works fast to get each of her parts bagged and placed in the van. The media is yelling questions at us, but we ignore them. Eventually, Kevin comes over with Ricky Tulsa.
“Levi,” Kevin says.
“Here? Really?” Levi deadpans. “She is not...”
“Please,” Ricky asks tearfully. “I know it’s bad. I just need to know if that’s my girl. Please.”
“Alright,” Levi says, stepping into the van. The media is at the other end of the van, so Levi can bring the gurney out with each bag on it. “Her head is wrapped, but you can still see her face.”
He unzips the bag, and the most heartbreaking noise comes out of this giant man as he hits his knees.
He sobs uncontrollably, begging God to wake him up and see that this is a nightmare, as Kevin comforts him.
I try so hard not to tear up, but goddamn it, this isn’t fair. What the fuck is wrong with the world?
“Look into her. I’ll talk to him,” Kevin says to us.
“We’ll go to the station and work,” Zeke says. “We need to make a statement soon.”
“I’d like Mariska to do it. You up for it?” Kevin asks me. “Bring Zeke with you.”
“Okay,” I say nervously.
“Come on,” Zeke says. I nod, and we walk back to my car. My mind is moving too fast as I try to process everything. Zeke takes my hand into his, and I can relax.
I set my coffee cup down and scroll on the tablet as I stand in front of the map. “Last seen on camera at GroceryMart on Collier Avenue,” I say, grabbing a pin and sticking it in place. “And found at Eastside Park along the north end of the woods line.”
“Let’s present real fast before the media storms the place,” Kevin says as he walks in. “Mariska, let’s hear it.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Everyone new runs their first case for a reason,” he tells me, and that relaxes me a bit.
“Harper Sloane, age thirty. She lives with her boyfriend, Richard Tulsa, at 900 King Street, Loft 22C. According to her license, she is five feet three inches, and social media shows she had waist-length brown curly hair as of three days ago. She is curvy, and she works as a… Luxury PR executive,” I say.
“She was last seen thirty-six hours ago at a grocery store and was found mostly clean, with a shaven head, and dismembered, wrapped in plastic wrap, on the north end of Eastside Park… So we have nine connected victims. But this has something new with the brownish substance on her nails.”
“Levi texted and said she had what looked like wood shavings under her nails,” Geno says, and I scribble that into the notes on the tablet.
“Alright. Let’s talk to the media,” Kevin says. “I’ll come out with you instead, since I’m back. After, go check in with Levi.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I don’t look presentable.”
“It’s the middle of the night, and we are working on finding a serial killer. No one should expect you to look runway ready,” Kevin says.
“We should probably say this before you go out,” Zeke says to me.
“Go ahead,” Kevin says.
“We are together,” Zeke says. “I am divorcing Meghan and have already moved out. We can keep drama out of the office and…”
“If you had to choose between saving Geno or Mariska, but Geno had better odds, which would you pick?” Kevin asks him.
“I’d save Geno,” he says. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try to go back and get Riss, but logically, Geno has better odds.”
“What about you? Levi or Zeke, but Levi would be more likely to survive?” Kevin asks me.
“Levi,” I say. “Zeke can just haunt me.”
“I’d do bad things to you as a ghost,” Zeke says with a grin.
“As long as you two can be logical and put the team first when you are here, we won’t have a problem,” Kevin says. “We can sign something later. Come on, Mariska.”
“Okay,” I sigh and walk with Kevin to the front.
“Say your name, what our team does, and the basics,” Kevin tells me. “If someone asks something and you don’t want to answer, just say you cannot comment on an ongoing investigation. If they get off topic, tell them to stay on topic.”
“Alright,” I say as he turns to me.
“Let’s go,” he says, opening the door with a smile.
When we walk out, the sun is up, and the parking lot is full. They all shut up when I step in front of them. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, ready to take on the world.
“Good morning. I am Detective Mariska Rowan with the New Haven Police Department, Sex Crimes Division… We have positively linked nine murders to the same perpetrator, tonight being thirty-year-old Harper Sloane… On behalf of my team and this department, we want to extend our condolences to the affected families of the victims. We will do everything within our power to bring this perpetrator to justice… We want the public to remain vigilant by traveling in groups, not answering the door for unknown persons, and keeping all windows and doors locked. This is not to cause mass panic, but to warn that this individual should be considered highly dangerous… We do not have a suspect at this time…”
“Tip line will be set up,” Kevin whispers in my ear.
“We will have a tipline set up, and we encourage everyone to report anything suspicious. No detail is too small, and we will investigate every lead as we navigate this case. As we have details to share, we will make those known.”
“What is the cause of death?” someone shouts.
“I will not comment on the details of an ongoing investigation,” I say.
“Were all the victims cut up?” a man asks loudly.
“I will not comment on the details of an ongoing investigation,” I repeat.
“Were they raped?” the same man asks.
“I will not comment on the details of an ongoing investigation,” I say yet again.
“Why won’t you provide any of the details of the crime?” a woman asks.
“Because I…” I say, pointing to myself. “Will not comment on the details of an ongoing investigation… That’s it…
I will not comment on the details of an ongoing investigation.
I will meet every single question with that answer.
This is not to keep the public in the dark, but to give the victims and their loved ones the dignity of justice.
We cannot do that if we provide the public with details to feed their natural morbid curiosity.
What we know right now is that everyone needs to remain alert as we investigate these heinous crimes. ”
Kevin and I turn and walk back into the station with the media in a frenzy behind us. “Kevin,” a man with a frown says as soon as the door shuts.
“This is Anthony, the sheriff,” Kevin says as we walk past him. When we get to the conference room door, Kevin turns and looks at him. “Yes, Anthony?”
“I want her doing the media interviews going forward,” Anthony says. Kevin just smiles and opens the door. Anthony is instantly distracted as he goes into the room and looks at the boards I have set up.
“So?” Kevin says.
“She did all this?” Anthony asks as Zeke hugs me.
“I’m so proud of you. You did awesome, baby,” he whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, she’s a genius,” Kevin says. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Me?” I ask.
“What is 3268 times 47?” Zeke asks me, and everyone turns around to wait for my answer.
“153,596,” I say. “What does that have to do with… Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Zeke laughs. “You are the smartest cookie in the jar, baby.”
“Cookies are pretty tasty,” I say innocently.
“Remind me to test that theory later,” Zeke says with a wink.
“Perverts,” Kevin says. “Mariska, do you know a Doctor Dawson Thompson?”
Zeke barks out a laugh, and I glare at him. “I do… Why?” I ask as he sets his phone down and goes back to open the door.
“Oh, he frequently works with the city for psychological profiling, so I figured you two could nail something down together. He said he knew you,” Kevin says, opening the door. “Hey, Dawson. Thanks for joining us.”
“Thank you for inviting me to join the party,” Dawson says warmly. “Good morning, Mariska.”
“What are we missing here?” Parker asks.
“Mariska and I are friends, that's all,” Dawson says before looking at the board. “You do this?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Good to finally meet in person, Zeke,” Dawson says, shaking Zeke’s hand.
“Likewise, man. We will have to take some time to chat and catch up,” Zeke replies.
“You dirty girl,” Parker whispers in my ear. “Both of them?”
“Shh. Asshole,” I laugh.
“Want to share with the class, Parker?” Kevin asks.
“No,” I say quickly before looking at Dawson. “How’d you know I did all that?”
“You are the only person I know who is this freakishly organized,” he laughs. “It looks good. Have you started on a profile?”
“A little,” I say.
“Well, we will let you catch him up on the files so you can work on that. We are going to get some updates from Caleb.”