There had been a match on ViCAP, followed by an intriguing email. Raymond Charlsen, now an assistant chief of police in St. Louis, had contacted Linda right after the ViCAP hit, providing further details.
She stared at her computer, reading Charlsen’s words again. “The murder of Delores Reid, a homeless woman who was miraculously ‘healed’ on a religious program here, bears striking similarities to the Hansen murders. Lethal amounts of the drug Ambien were found in her system.”
The exact same M.O., and very possibly the same used in killing Pamela Watts’s parents. Linda returned to the email. “Detective Malachi Johnson is lead on the case, and I believe Detective Johnson has valuable material that can be of assistance to you. He’s expecting your call.” Linda wrote down the detective’s number and dialed.
The voice on the other end was deep. “Detective Johnson, Homicide Division.”
“Detective Johnson, this is Captain Linda Turner in Lincoln, Nebraska. I understand you’re investigating a murder that is very similar to a triple homicide that occurred here thirteen months ago.”
“That’s right. I’ve been aware of the unsolved Hansen murders since Chief Charlsen transferred here from Lincoln. Horrific case, but I didn’t expect to ever come across a connection. Until last week that is, when I was investigating what initially looked to be a suicide of a fifty-nine-year-old female. I got confirmation from the FBI that the common denominator between our cases is the large amount of Ambien present in our vic’s system, the same drug used to kill the Hansen family.”
“Correct. But what else made you suspicious?” she asked, hardly able to catch a breath.
“A couple of things. The substantial amount of Ambien present initially pointed to suicide. But while processing the scene, we discovered the prescription label on the bottle of pills was fake.”
“And the second?” Linda could feel her heart beating faster.
“The victim was a down-on-her-luck former actress who was also sometimes homeless. She was living in a flophouse, renting a room by the week. According to three residents, Delores let it be known that in March, she was paid to pretend she was crippled, rise up out of a wheelchair, and walk on some local religious program. The pastor claims to perform healing miracles.”
Linda tried not to get too excited. “In your professional opinion, Detective, why kill a homeless woman appearing on a fraudulent religious program?”
She heard shuffling of papers at the other end. “The neighbors I interviewed all said that she was paid and told to leave town. But Delores didn’t leave; she lay low waiting. This program is now running a capital campaign asking for close to two and a half million in donations. Delores began talking about how being able to miraculously heal and walk was worth more than she was paid. She wanted additional money, or she’d go public with the truth about these healings.”
“Good old-fashioned blackmail,” Linda said. After all this time, another sour disappointment would do them no good, and she found herself questioning Detective Johnson’s finding. “Or it’s coincidence, and Ms. Reid could have overdosed on the Ambien?”
“Sure,” Malachi acknowledged on the other end of the line. “But on the night Delores Reid died, another resident saw a figure leaving her room at around three in the morning.”
“Did they get a description?”
“It was in a dimly lit hallway, and the person was dressed in dark clothing. The witness indicated the person’s build was slight and thought it might have been a woman.”
Linda took a drink from her water bottle. This was all circumstantial, but it was the best lead she’d had in months. “What was the name of the program Ms. Reid rose from a wheelchair on?”
“It’s called The Road to Calvary, and here’s why this may be a potential lead for you. The pastor has a new wife, maiden name was Susannah Baker. I’ve seen the program once and need to do further research, but she hasn’t been around that long. They got married in a live broadcast in May. One of my army buddies works on the show. He’s always been suspicious of Ms. Baker’s intentions and brought me a copy of her driver’s license. I also delved into the origin of her social, and the Susannah Baker issued this particular number died in 1995.”
That statement grabbed Linda’s attention hard. Her breathing was shallow, and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Is this the break we’ve been looking for?
There was utter silence on the line as the thoughts in Linda’s mind competed for attention. The mysterious woman showing up fit the pattern. The murder of Delores Reid fit the pattern.
“Captain Turner?” Malachi inquired.
“Yes, I’m still here. Trying to process these findings. These months of having a heinous crime still unsolved have been unsettling for our department, and this would be a huge break. The woman we’re looking for is very skilled at changing her appearance, so making a positive ID that way could be difficult. However, I do have forensic evidence in the form of a palm print. If we could get prints from this Susannah—what did you say her last name was?”
“It was Baker. But now it’s Williams.”
Linda scribbled the names across the page. “If we get her prints and DNA to make a positive ID, the Hansen case is back on. Before we rush into anything, I’d like you to come to Lincoln ASAP with all the materials you have. If you need me to speak with your superiors, I’m happy to do that.”
“Chief Charlsen mentioned sharing evidence and discussed undertaking a joint investigation. I need time to gather what we have, but I can be in town the day after tomorrow.”
“Great. We’ll find you a place to stay.” She paused, her mind running at full speed. “Besides case files and evidence, can you get me some of those TV tapes of this program? Those are crucial to making a positive identification.”
“Sure, that’s no problem. I’ll contact you tomorrow with my flight itinerary.”
“Thank you, Detective Johnson. I look forward to meeting you and our possible collaboration.”
Linda hung up, her thoughts tripping over one another. The Hansen case was back on.