FIFTEEN

The second body was found on Scotland Road in downtown Freedom. Young woman shot in the head as she was pulling her BMW sedan away from the meter at which it had been parked. Front of the car was sticking out into the road.

Driver’s side window shattered. Blood and matter bathed the interior. No visible clues.

Deputy Buzz Farmer met me at the scene. “Carbon copy,” he said as we circled the BMW.

I admired Farmer’s professionalism. His experiences in Chicago had honed his forensic skills. He conducted himself deferentially and with aplomb.

I remembered what it was that informed my decision to hire him. He had phoned my office on a Sunday morning. I was alone, poring over a handful of weekly reports. When I picked up the call, he identified himself and explained why he was calling. “I hope I’m not bothering you on a Sunday.”

“Not at all. I like being here on Sunday. It’s mostly quiet. Small-town quiet.”

“It’s the small-town quiet that’s behind this call.”

“Oh?”

“I’m just coming off shift. Another Chicago night. I don’t even know the number of homicides. It remains a mystery to me as to why these gangs think killing someone is the best way to resolve issues. You know, when you take any one of them aside and try to have a reasonable conversation about it, by and large, they agree. No one wants to die.”

“So what does that tell you?”

“Mostly it tells me that in an environment where life is cheap and easily taken, I’m in greater danger than what I deem to be reasonable.”

“Meaning?”

“I have two little kids. I go to sleep fearing that one day I won’t come home. And what will happen to them then?”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“I wanted you to know how much it would mean to me to be a member of your department. And not only me. It would mean the world to my family, as well.”

“Thank you, Buzz. I will most assuredly take this into consideration.”

“Thanks, Buddy. I’m very grateful.”

After that it wasn’t a difficult choice. He had an exemplary résumé. He was passionate about wanting the job. He was ecstatic when I announced my decision. He’s been an excellent addition to the department.

“What do you make of it?” I asked him.

“I don’t like the similarity.”

“And?”

“I’ll bet when we make contact with the next of kin the story will be the same as the first one.”

“No motive.”

“Except for one.”

“Are you suggesting a serial motive?”

“I am.”

“Damn.”

We passed a forensics unit that was just beginning its examination of the scene. Stu Steinmark, the lead tech, looked at me and shook his head.

Farmer had entered the woman’s purse into evidence and had gathered the necessary information from her wallet. “You want to take a ride?”

“To her house?”

“Yes.”

“Might as well.”

“It won’t be pleasant.”

“It never is.”

Image

Bonnie Weil lived in a two-family tract house in the Freedom foothills along with her sister, Meredith, a pair of miniature schnauzers and an ancient Siamese cat who had been with her since high school.

Meredith Weil answered the door and immediately surmised that our visit wasn’t a good one. “What happened?”

She stepped back to allow us entry into her small living room. “She’s dead, isn’t she? I mean that’s the only reason you guys ever just show up. Right?”

I nodded. “Our condolences, Ms. Weil.”

She did her best to maintain her composure. She asked how it happened but began sobbing before we finished telling her. Devastated was an understatement.

“Is there anyone who might be available to be here with you?”

“You mean now?”

“Yes.”

She thought for several moments. “Our brother and his wife live nearby.”

Clearly this wasn’t her most cherished option but rather than going into detail, she allowed me to phone her brother, who gasped when I told him the news. He said he was on his way.

We sat silently in the living room and although she offered us coffee, we both declined. The shock of her sister’s death had robbed Meredith of her vitality. She had collapsed into herself and when her brother arrived, we made our introductions, expressed our condolences, and got out of there.

Buzz dropped me at my car. “I’ll compile the history and cross-check it with the Julia Murphy crime book.”

“You think we have a serial killer in our midst?”

“It’s likely.”

I shook my head. “You’ll let me know what you find?”

“As soon as I have something.”

“We’re sure to be inundated by the media.”

“We’ll deal with it.”

“Pressure.”

“By the barrels full.”

I nodded.

“Buddy?”

I looked at him.

“Don’t let this get to you. It’s all going to work out fine.”

I watched him drive away.

“Says you,” I muttered to myself.