Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
John had just finished taking photos of the bathroom. He was wearing a full hazmat suit so that as he moved around carefully he wouldn’t be exposed to any contaminants. It was almost impossible to see what could be mixed in with the blood.
Katie watched John work. His expertise and well-honed skills were impressive. It reminded her that he was so much more than she knew. She loved the fact that there was always more to discover about him.
All the photographs were taken. All sides of the bathroom, an overall view, and then a close-up of the arm. John then carefully traded the digital camera for another one and did a methodical video of everything in and around the walls of the room.
McGaven joined Katie. “I’ve searched everywhere else and cleared it, but I want you to see this.”
She followed her partner to the office alcove.
The area wasn’t like the rest of the house—it wasn’t orderly and neat.
There were papers, unopened mail, strange notes scratched down on notepads.
It reminded Katie of a Jekyll and Hyde personality—if indeed the same person who had kept the rest of the house so tidy was responsible for the messy desk.
“Maybe the person who left the bloodbath in the bathroom went through here looking for something?” said McGaven.
Katie thought for a second. “Funny you say that. Just like Tyler going through Shelby’s house.”
“What do you think it could be?”
“It could be anything, but I bet it’s something the killer doesn’t want found. Perhaps something that could connect him to all of this horror, his working location or someone who was helping him.”
“We need to get all this paperwork boxed up so we can sift through it back at the department,” he said. “And any paperwork of a personal nature.”
She nodded. “I get the feeling the killer wanted us to see this. It’s a bit contrived in this tidy home… don’t you think?”
McGaven opened a box that held 8.5-by-11 computer paper. “Katie… look at this.”
In the box there was what looked like a typed manuscript. McGaven flipped through the pages quickly and came to printed photos. They were of places that looked familiar.
“Those are the other crime scenes,” Katie said.
“Look at this.”
There were photographs of Arson Investigator Ames at various locations, one when he was running and another at the fire department with a few other firefighters.
There were a couple of photos of Deputy Chris Anderson going to the coffee house, and when he was with Katie on the search.
But the most disturbing of all were photos of Katie—in her driveway with Cisco, at the police department parking lot, and after she had pulled Cisco to safety from the mud trap.
The expressions of anger, relief, and anguish on her face were clearly evident, telling a story.
It was disturbing. It was shocking. It was how the killer was able to stay steps ahead of the investigation.
“He wanted us to find this,” she said. “He’s luring us.”
“I’m afraid to ask. Luring us into what else?” McGaven glanced around the cabin where the decomposing stench was still strong and a severed arm remained in the shower.
“Into his world, but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason for doing it. I need to work on that part of the profile—his behavioral evidence left behind at the scenes—to try to figure him out,” she said. “But we need to be ready for whatever’s going to hit like a wrecking ball.”
“You’re forgetting something,” said McGaven.
“What?” she said, looking around at the cabin and what was left behind for them to find.
“He has more photos of you than anyone else. If we’re preparing for a wrecking ball, you’re who he’s trying to hit.”