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Halifax, May 18
10:13 a.m.
Allan read over the report again.
At 1805 hrs on May 16, 2010, Constables Samuel Patterson and William Frieson of the Acresville Police Service responded to a radio call to Timbre Road for a body discovered on the bank of Deer Creek.
On arrival, the officers located and observed the male victim, believed to be in his 60’s, deceased at the scene. He was lying on his side with his head pointing in a northward direction. Officers noted that the victim looked to have been stabbed or shot repeatedly. He also had the lower parts of his arms removed. The body was in an advanced stage of decomposition, and there was insect infestation present.
A subsequent search of the area did not turn up the weapon/s involved or the victim’s arms.
The victim was later identified as a John Baker, 58, a homeless resident of Acresville.
There is no suspect in the case.
Allan set the report down, propping his elbows on the top of his desk and lowering his face into his hands.
Missing arms. Is this related to my case?
Intuition told him that it was. He had to at least explore the possibility.
Serial killer? Where is he?
Allan rose and walked to the window. A combination of facts, instincts, and doubts ate away at him. For a moment, he watched the light traffic on Gottingen Street. The morning was sun washed. Just over the top of Citadel Hill, fingerlike wisps of cloud drifted across the sky.
He considered the victims. A prostitute and a homeless man. Two easy victims. Was that why they were chosen?
Allan yawned, cracking his jaws. He was tired, he realized, his concentration drifting. Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone, dialed the Acresville Police, and asked for the police chief.
“What can I do for you?” David asked him.
For the next few minutes, Allan explained his concerns and suspicions about the murders. On the other end of the line, there was a brief silence.
David said, “I can see why you think they might be connected.”
“Do you have any witnesses in your case?” Allan asked.
“No.”
“Evidence?”
David’s voice sagged with disappointment. “Nothing.”
Allan winced inside.
“Who found the body?” he asked.
“Two local men,” David said. “Roland Grant and Thomas Cussons. According to Grant, he and Cussons went out to his cabin for a weekend of fishing and drinking. The cabin’s located half a mile from where the body was found.
“Just after five o’clock on the evening of the sixteenth, Grant stepped out to call in his dog. He could hear it barking somewhere in the woods, but it wouldn’t return for him. Grant feared it came upon a porcupine, so he and Cussons went out to bring the dog in. They found it sitting next to the body.”
Allan said, “Were their backgrounds clean?”
“Clean as a whistle. Grant is a married forty-two-year-old with two sons. He works as an electrician for a local contractor. Cussons is thirty-nine years old. He’s also married with one daughter. He runs his own welding company here in town.”
“How was Baker murdered?”
“He was stabbed multiple times.”
Allan sat up straighter in his chair, feeling a tingle on his skin. “Has the autopsy report come in yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Has the body been released to the mortician?”
“No. It’s still in Dr. Fitzgerald’s care,” David said. “Council hasn’t decided on what to do with John’s body.” His speech slowed. “The poor man will probably end up in a pauper’s grave somewhere.”
“Acresville is a small town,” Allan said. “Do you have any Johnny Weirdos there?”
“No one that I can think of offhand. At least, no one capable of murder.”
Allan paused a moment, thinking.
“Do you want to come here, check things out?” David asked. “I could really use your help.”
With sudden regret, Allan stared at a picture of Brian smiling at him from the edge of the desk. He knew there was no way he’d be able to spend the long weekend with him. He was too deep into this investigation now to take any time off at all. This couldn’t be happening. Shit. Shit.
“Detective?”
Allan shut his eyes. “I have a funeral to attend tomorrow. But I’ll head up after that.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting you.”
Allan hung up the phone. He leaned back from the desk, feeling wretched. In his mind, he watched Brian walking into the airport terminal amidst a trickle of other passengers, his son’s eyes seeking him out. When they found him, Brian’s face lit up. He lifted his arm in a wave and began running toward his father.
Allan felt sick. How was he going to break this to his son?
