Rick Mofina - Into the Dark

Larch shook his head.

Tanner stood and leaned into Larch’s space.

“Just like with the others, right, Eric? You tried to make them understand but things went too far. It’s something inside you that you can’t control, a pressure, a force or sickness that just takes over and makes you do these things. You’re a slave to it, a victim, too, but part of you likes it, likes the power. Then you feel bad, you didn’t mean for all this to happen.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Tanner said. “Eric, you don’t have to live the lie any longer, you don’t have to carry it around alone. Tell us about it. Unburden yourself. Let us get you the help you need.”

Larch swallowed.

“We know you had your truck serviced in Sacramento a few days ago. We checked the odometer and did the calculations. You’ve done a lot of driving since you returned to L.A. Have you been up to Camarillo, Eric?”

“No, I never went there.”

Tanner didn’t answer. He sat down, letting silence mix with the tension, waiting before proceeding.

“You know, at this moment,” Tanner said, “we’re executing warrants on your Jeep, on your motel room, on your apartment in Long Beach, your brother’s home in Sacramento and his office.”

Larch looked at him.

“That’s right. Sooner or later we’ll get to the truth.”

“I got nothing to hide.”

“We’re going to find out, but it would be better if you cooperated now.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

Tanner slid a pad and pen to Larch then went to a file for a page with printed text.

“Would you copy these sentences, print them in block letters for us?”

Larch’s face whitened as he stared at the passage of text.

THANK YOU FOR THE RECENT INTEREST IN MY WORK. IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME AND I WAS BEGINNING TO THINK THAT THE BRILLIANT MINDS OF L.A. LAW ENFORCEMENT WOULD NEVER APPRECIATE THE MEANING OF THE BEAUTFUL GIFT I’D LEFT THEM.

“What’s this? I don’t know if I should do this,” Larch said.

“Thought you said you got nothing to hide. Was that a lie?” Zurn asked.

“No.”

“Then do it.”

Larch picked up the pen, turned it over several times, then carefully started printing the sentences in block letters.

Commerce, California

“Pay attention to this guy.” Detective Terry Metcalf, with the task force, pointed to a figure in surveillance camera footage on the big flat screen in the boardroom.

The heavyset subject was wearing a large navy hoodie, bulky gray sweatpants and sneakers. The subject approached 5900 Wilshire and deposited an envelope in the mail slot. An enlargement showed details on the envelope matching the one that the reporter had received.

“This person delivered the death-doll letter to the L.A. bureau of the AllNews Press Agency wire service. Note the clothing, the body shape and gait. Now watch.”

Tanner and Zurn, along with other task force members, studied the footage. The investigation was moving fast. They’d found upon their return to the homicide bureau in Commerce from interviewing Eric Larch, that some of the results from leads, search warrants and analysis of evidence had been completed.

Metcalf clicked his remote control and new footage appeared, showing a heavyset person in a large navy hoodie, gray sweatpants and sneakers.

“This footage was taken from cameras at a gas station near Claire Bowen’s medical building at Huntington Drive and Garfield Avenue in San Marino. Our subject is walking in one direction down the street in front of the gas station and less than thirty minutes later he’s walking by in the opposite direction. This was recorded within the time frame of the burglary. Note the clothing is identical to the Wilshire images, leading us to conclude that it’s the same person,” Metcalf said. “But after executing warrants on all locations tied to Eric Larch, we found none of the clothing items.”

“He coulda tossed them,” a detective said. “Also our guy here also coulda bulked up for the cameras.”

“That’s right, so while it’s the same person in the footage, we are inconclusive on whether it’s Larch.”

Tanner flipped through his notes.

“The time on the gas station footage could rule out Larch. I have him in Sacramento for that date and that time frame, but we need to confirm that. Our information’s been wrong before.”

“That doesn’t rule him out for Amber,” Metcalf said.

“It doesn’t rule him out for anything. It means that we need to triple-check everything. We have a lot of other areas we’re looking at. Thanks, Terry.”

Returning to his desk, Tanner stopped to drink from a water fountain. The political heat to advance the investigation was intensifying from politicians downtown and in the Capitol. There was pressure from the department brass to issue a press release on Eric Larch’s arrest before the LAPD did it for them.

Tanner resumed working at his desk for less than five minutes when his cell phone rang.

“Tanner?”

“Mark Harding. Got a minute?”

“Not really. What’s up?”

“I’m hearing from some police sources that you’ve made an arrest.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m hearing you arrested the Dark Wind Killer.”

“I can’t discuss anything.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“We have an agreement and I’ve kept up my end.”

“Listen, we’ve got a lot on the go right now. Keep in touch.”

After the call, Tanner exhaled, knowing they were running out of time. Larch was charged with his bail violation, but unless they had a good case to show he was behind Amber’s disappearance they wouldn’t be able to hold him long, and they wouldn’t be able to keep his arrest under wraps much longer.

We’ve got a ton of suspicion, but no hard evidence, Tanner thought as he resumed work, going back to a key piece of holdback evidence. A report had come in from the lab that morning confirming that Amber Pratt’s bloodied fingerprint was on the tag affixed to the death doll the killer had placed in Camarillo.

Every initial indication pointed to Eric Larch as the suspect in Amber’s disappearance and the murders of five other women. There were so many factors that pointed to him. He’d lived in L.A. at the time of the murders. He was obsessed with infamous killers. He had a history of violence toward women. He fantasized about fame, power and control.

So much about him fit.

But it didn’t fit well, Tanner told himself.

“Joe, the blood analysis from Eric Larch’s vehicle just came in.”

Detective Metcalf passed him the report. It showed the blood on the rear and in the interior of Larch’s Jeep was A positive. Larch was A positive. Amber Pratt, from the medical report filed with the court in the assault, was O positive.

It was not Amber’s blood in Larch’s vehicle, but it was her blood with the death doll the killer left in Camarillo.

“All right, thanks.” Zurn had finished a call. “That was the FBI. They said that a preliminary analysis of Larch’s handwriting sample, or printing in this case, strongly indicates that he’s not the author of the Dark Wind Killer notes sent to our reporter friend.”

Waves of doubt about Larch swept over him.

So, back to square one.

This Dark Wind Killer is playing us, but my gut tells me the answer is in our hands. It’s in here somewhere, he thought.

Tanner took a deep breath, let it out slowly and surveyed the files on his desk. Time was hammering against them. His focus flicked to the L.A. Times clipping Zurn had set at the edge of his desk earlier.