CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

As Jayne got up, I caught her in a crushing hug. She allowed herself to sob for only a moment before pulling herself together and taking a step back from me. I tried to hold back my tears for her sake, but watching this strong woman break down was more than I could bear. We both wiped our eyes, unable to look at each other.

“Jayne, I’m so sorry. What can I do for you? Name it.”

She swallowed. “I want you to work the scene with Amanda Carmack. Can you handle it?”

Work the death scene of a girl who was like family to me? I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn Jayne down after what had just happened. I would have to disconnect and wait until later to break down. I believed I could manage that, but I was certain it would wreak havoc on my mind and my heart.

“Yes, I can,” I replied, my voice sounding more confident than I felt.

I followed her up to the main dining area. Baxter was on his phone, his face ashen. He locked eyes with me and began walking my way. Jayne hurried ahead and began conferring with two of her deputies.

Baxter ended his call and stopped in front of me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Jayne asked me to work the scene with Amanda.”

“I’m headed there. Ride over with me, and I’ll bring you up to speed on the Amy Donovan case.”

“Okay, thanks.” We exited the building and hurried toward his vehicle. As I had a thought, I stopped dead in my tracks. “Wait…Rachel…and Jenna’s other friends. I don’t want them hearing about this on the news or through campus gossip…” I ran my hands through my hair, my heart breaking for those girls.

He stopped and said patiently, “The college is assigning counselors to speak with the students. There’s protocol in place to take particular care with deceased students’ roommates and close friends.”

Still not feeling right about this, I said, “But shouldn’t I be there for my sister?”

“I think the Sheriff needs you more. There’s not a lot you can do for Rachel right now, but we can start making headway on getting justice for Jenna.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Come on.”

He put his hand on my shoulder and steered me toward the parking lot. Once we got to his SUV, he opened the passenger door for me and then went and got in the driver’s seat. I knew I had to lock down my emotions. I was way too close to the situation, and I had to find a way to detach. I’d always been fairly good at setting aside my feelings in order to do my job, but I was out of practice.

To keep my mind off it, I said, “Okay, tell me what I need to know about Amy Donovan.”

Baxter said, “As you’ve heard, a neighbor found her in her backyard Saturday night. But she was killed days before, most likely on Wednesday. They’re basing that on a receipt for a half-eaten container of take-out on her kitchen counter and the coroner’s best estimation. Her body was partially frozen, so it was difficult to pinpoint an exact time of death.”

I shook my head. “It’s sad that no one went looking for her before that.”

He shrugged. “She lived alone. She was scheduled off work from Thursday until Sunday. No one missed her.”

I shivered at the thought. “Jayne said she sustained blunt force trauma to the head and was strangled. That sounds like a crime of passion. How do the cryptic note and the…eye thing fit with that? Leaving a calling card—especially a creepy-ass poem that someone clearly spent time writing—implies premeditation.”

Giving me a nod, he said, “Excellent observation. I thought the same thing.” His face clouded over. “And with this second death, I have a feeling we’re going to get another piece of the puzzle.”

Another shiver ran through me.

He continued, “We found no real evidence at the Donovan scene. No footprints because of the snow. There was a broken light bulb in her patio light and a mangled latch on her fence gate, but neither of them yielded any prints. We have nothing to go on aside from the note, which isn’t much.”

He pulled into Richards Park, a new park that had been constructed between Carmel and Fishers in honor of the retired judge Walter Richards. Judge Richards had been a well-respected Hamilton County superior court judge for over thirty years, and the county recognized him last year by building this park.

There were already several emergency vehicles here, including the coroner’s van and the criminalists’ SUV. Baxter and I got out, and I put on a clean jumpsuit and one of Baxter’s ever-present baseball caps I found in the back of his SUV. On the way into the park, we met Amanda, who was struggling to carry two kits toward the scene.

“Thanks,” she breathed as Baxter relieved her of the cases and went ahead of us. To me she said, “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. I’m gutted, and I barely knew Jenna.”

Having successfully gotten hold of my emotions on the way over here, I was finally able to discuss Jenna’s death without breaking down. “Yes, this won’t be easy. But the Sheriff asked me to do this for her, and I want to nail whoever killed Jenna to the wall.”

“Agreed.”

My phone rang, and I had to fumble in my pocket to get it. It was Rachel. I said to Amanda, “I need to take this,” and hung back to talk to my sister in private. “Hey, Rach.”

She was sobbing into the phone. “Jenna’s dead. She’s dead.”

I clenched my jaw hard, hating the fact that I wasn’t able to console my sister in person. “I know. I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you.”

“Why did this happen?” she wailed.

“I have no idea, but I’m going to help find out who did it. Look, Rachel, I won’t be home tonight. Jayne asked me to process the scene, and I agreed. I feel awful that I’m not there for you, but—”

“No, don’t worry about me.” Her tone got an edge to it. “You do your job and find the bastard who took Jenna from us. Promise me you’ll find him.”

“I’ll do everything I can. Do you have somewhere to go so you won’t be alone?”

“I’m staying with Miranda. She needs me.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, she does. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“I love you, Ellie.”

I was doing fine until then. I choked out, “I love you, too.”

I stashed my phone back in my pocket and shook off the emotion I was feeling. I had a job to do, and nothing could get in the way of that.

***

I signed the crime scene entry log at the entrance to the park. The outer perimeter had been set up at the fence across the front of the small park, and the surrounding trees made a natural perimeter around the sides and back. It was a fairly secluded location, so it made sense that the killer had chosen it.

An inner perimeter was set up around a wrought iron gazebo that was the centerpiece of the park. Portable floodlights had been brought in to illuminate the darkness. When I got closer, I saw a person sitting on a bench inside the gazebo and wondered momentarily why anyone was allowing that to happen. Then I noticed the person wasn’t moving. My stomach lurched as I realized it was Jenna.

Seated on a bench like she was enjoying an evening in the park, Jenna held a bouquet of daisies and a piece of paper in her hands. She looked peaceful. Her legs were crossed and her head was up, although her eyes were closed. When I got closer, I could see the glint of a web of fishing line holding her body in place, tied to the intricate wrought iron work of the gazebo.

Before I let myself think too much about that, I went and found Amanda, who was standing with Baxter and his arrogant partner, Detective Jason Sterling. Sterling was the second worse thing I’d have to contend with tonight, aside from death itself. We didn’t get along well at all.

“Hey, Matthews,” he said as I joined their group. I steeled myself for a nasty comment, but instead he said, “Sorry about your friend. Looks like we have a long night ahead of us.”

I stared at him, not knowing how to respond to him being nice to me. “Um, yeah. Thanks, Sterling.”

This had to be Amanda’s doing. The two of them had been dating on and off for the past few months. Maybe she’d been able to beat some manners into him.

The coroner, Dr. Everett Berg, and his assistant, Kenny Strange, were examining the body. They were no doubt wondering how in the hell they were going to get her cut away from the endless tangle of fishing line holding her lifeless body in an upright position. Dr. Berg beckoned us over. The four of us stopped to put on booties and gloves before entering the inner perimeter of the scene.

“Good evening, all,” Dr. Berg said. His eyes registered pain. As a friend of Jayne’s, he’d watched Jenna grow up. “As you can see, the victim has been posed. She’s been dead for approximately six hours, maybe more. And considering I believe she died from exsanguination and there’s no sign of blood around here…”

Baxter finished his thought. “This is not our primary crime scene.”

Sterling swore under his breath. I felt the same way. We wouldn’t find a murder weapon or much else here to point us toward the killer.

Dr. Berg gestured toward a deep cut on Jenna’s neck. “I believe this laceration severed a jugular vein, but I’ll of course know the complete extent of her injuries once the autopsy is completed. Now if you’d like to take photos and study the scene, we’ll leave you for a few moments while we gather our equipment.”

On his way past me, Dr. Berg gave me a pat on the shoulder. Kenny gave me an encouraging but sad smile.

Sterling said to Baxter, “You need to read the note.”

Baxter walked closer to the body and crouched down, taking care not to touch anything. He read aloud:

 

An innocent man went to jail that night

Because you decided what was wrong and right.

You thought you knew. You were so sure.

She died; he died. How much must a child have to endure?

A tooth for a tooth. Are you catching on?

It won’t be long before the next one’s gone.

After taking a picture of the note with his phone, he stood and turned to us. “This poem is as bad as the first one. ‘It won’t be long before the next one’s gone.’ Is he saying he’s going after more Walsh and Donovan family members or does he have more law enforcement vendettas to settle?”

“Hell if I know, but I do know we’re dealing with one sick son of a bitch here,” Sterling replied. He chin-nodded at us. “Get to it, girls.”

The two detectives left the gazebo to go confer privately.

Amanda got a camera out of her kit and handed it to me. “Well, boss. Sounds like it’s go time.”

I took the camera from her. “I’ll get shots of the whole scene and of the body, then Dr. Berg and Kenny can cut her down.”

Starting at the entrance to the gazebo, I began taking pictures. Wide shots at first, showing the entire gazebo area, then some mid-range shots of the victim’s body, then finally close-ups of each aspect of the staging. I worked to focus my thoughts on the science of the situation rather than allowing the reality to sink in. My state of mind was precarious at best, but I had a lock on it at the moment.

Amanda said, “Check out her cowboy boots.”

I glanced down. Those clunky boots were not quite in keeping with Jenna’s chic style. “Jenna Walsh would never have put those on her feet.” I took in the rest of her outfit—a peasant top, a flowered bohemian skirt, a wide belt embellished with coins, and several mismatched necklaces. “And she most certainly didn’t do boho.”

Amanda’s brow furrowed. “Maybe she was going to a costume party.”

“I don’t think so.” I zoomed my camera in on the victim’s neck and took a photo. Her throat had been slit, but the wound had been wiped clean, and there was no blood on her shirt. “The killer redressed her.”

“That’s creepy.”

“So is going to all this trouble to pose the body. It took some time and a lot of thought.” I snapped several close-ups of how the fishing line was tied to the gazebo.

At that time, Dr. Berg and Kenny came back to collect the body. Dr. Berg removed the flowers from the victim’s hands, placing them into a large bag Amanda had waiting. He pulled the note from her fingers and handed it to me. I placed it into a plastic sleeve, then slid that into a manila envelope and sealed it. After that, Amanda and I left the gazebo to give Dr. Berg and Kenny some space. We walked around back so we could watch what they were doing from the other side. Baxter and Sterling joined us.

Amanda gestured at the body and said to the detectives, “We noticed that the victim has been redressed.”

“No shit, Sherlocks. There’s no blood on her clothes,” Sterling jeered, earning a glare from both Amanda and me. Sterling couldn’t be nice for too long.

Amanda replied, “It’s not just that she’s been redressed; it’s how she’s been redressed. Those clothes are not from this decade.”

I said, “Right. They’re probably…” I did some quick math in my head. “I’d say around fifteen years old.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Because it’s exactly what I would have worn in high school, down to the belt.”

Sterling looked at Amanda and me like we were crazy. “We’re trying to catch a possible serial killer, and you two are fixated on the fact that our vic’s clothing is outdated? We’re the real police, not the fashion police.”

Baxter rolled his eyes at his partner. “They make a good point. The killer dressed the victim a certain way either to send a specific message or to satisfy a sick fantasy.” He took out his phone and pulled up the picture he’d taken of the note. “Maybe the clothes, like the poem, are another piece of his sadistic puzzle. We figure out the connection, and it might give us an idea as to who this lunatic is.”

As we watched Dr. Berg and Kenny begin cutting the fishing line holding the body upright, Sterling said, “Okay, I’ll bite. Let’s say the killer is trying to make a point about something that happened a while ago or recreate something or someone. Maybe this vic represents a woman in his life—a wife, girlfriend, mom, or other family member. The killer went to a lot of trouble to stage this body. It’s got to mean something. Read that stupid poem again.”

Baxter read from his phone, “ ‘An innocent man went to jail that night because you decided what was wrong and right.’ ”

Amanda said, “Wait. Do you have a photo of the first poem, too? If we put both of them together it might help.”

Baxter scrolled back through his photos. “Here we go. The first one says: My life was ruined by your mistakes, and now you understand how my heart aches. For your incompetence I will show no pity as I strike terror across the city.”

I cut in, “It sounds like the killer thinks Jayne and Frank sent the wrong guy to jail. It could be the killer himself or someone close to him. Keep going.”

Baxter continued, “ ‘Your only child is now dearly departed. An eye for an eye? I’m just getting started.’ ” He scrolled to the photo of tonight’s poem. “ ‘An innocent man went to jail that night because you decided what was wrong and right. You thought you knew. You were so sure. She died; he died. How much must a child have to endure?’ ”

Sterling kicked at the ground. “Two people died, an innocent man went to jail, and a child suffered. When there are kids involved in any way in a crime, they always suffer. And every asshole in the joint will tell you he’s innocent. This could literally be any case.”

“How about the two people who died?” I asked.

Shrugging, he replied, “It doesn’t say when or how or what relation they are to the killer. Not enough specifics to base anything on.”

Baxter kept reading. “A tooth for a tooth. Are you catching on? It won’t be long before the next one’s gone.” He winced. “Anyone hear if the Doc looked in the victim’s mouth yet? What do you want to bet she’s missing a tooth?”

I closed my eyes, hoping that wasn’t true.

Of course Sterling had to add, “And the psycho kept it for a trophy like Amy Donovan’s right eye.”

My stomach lurched at the mental image of the killer’s “trophies.”

Baxter brought the conversation back to something I could handle. “The killer seems to be pointing to a certain incident that both the Sheriff and Detective Donovan were involved in. What was it, about ten, fifteen years ago that they became partners?”

“Fourteen,” I said. “She made detective when I was seventeen, and they were partners for about four years after that.”

“That roughly coincides with your wardrobe timeframe.” He typed something into his phone. “I’m sending this second poem to the crypto guys at the FBI field office. I hope they can glean more from this one than they did from the first one. Since the first poem referenced Detective Donovan, we’ve been looking into threats made on him over the years. But now that we have another piece of the puzzle, I’m going to have some deputies start combing through old case files the Sheriff and Donovan worked together, looking for any kind of similarities to these two victims or situations surrounding their deaths.”

“That’s going to be dozens upon dozens of cases. Maybe hundreds,” Amanda said.

Sterling had grown quiet, staring off toward the front of the park. “I think I have a way to narrow it down. Have them cross-reference the cases with any that Judge Richards presided over.”

“Why Judge Rich—” My jaw dropped. “Oh…”

Sterling nodded. “If this whack job is so caught up in symbolism, it makes sense he might try to get back at Judge Richards by making his fancy new park a crime scene.”

Baxter’s expression darkened. “Or he’s sending yet another message. We’d better get someone to secure Judge Richards and his family ASAP.”