Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

“Okay let’s move on. We heard from Ms. Criddle this morning and she confirmed there was nothing missing from the home and nothing in her bedroom appeared to be moved and no underwear tampered with. This is different from the first. You will recall that he actually put her intimates on and took the picture with the victim in the adjacent bed. This changed with Katherine, however, we know that he entered the victim's bedroom here, as well, due to the dog evidence. Why risk that, if it’s not to deliver the same shock value as he did with the first event?” again the Sheriff looked about for any takers on the question.

A senior deputy with a graying handlebar mustache and thick sideburns offered a thought, “It’s a power trip right? Perhaps he likes to feel like he can do whatever he wants to while in their homes but doesn’t have the balls to carry it any further, other than just being there, seeing them and taking these pictures.” As an afterthought he continued, “Hell, maybe that’s what he was doing by the side of her bed, maybe he was taking more pictures.” Proud of what he’d contributed, he reached up, stroked the mustache and smiled at his associates.

“That’s a good thought,” Natalie said, giving the mustached deputy thumbs up. “Why go to all this trouble without some sort of trophy? He doesn’t take anything, maybe that’s because what he takes he’s already brought with him.”

“I’m apt to agree with both of these officers,” 'The Wolf' declared retrieving the picture after it had made the rounds. “He certainly won’t be having these developed in the local Fotomart or online, so he must have a color printer and computer that will do the work for him. Breland, will you do some checking today with the computer suppliers in town and see if anyone has recently purchased what they’d need to make this happen? Something concerns me with what my buddy at the back said there a minute ago. He said, ‘he doesn’t have the courage to carry it any further’, that’s what really bothers me about this case. If he’s a serial, and I believe our perp is, we have to assume that his behavior will escalate. It’s just a matter of how fast, where, when, and in what magnitude. When you can answer these questions for me I’d like to talk with you all further.”

The meeting lasted another 90 minutes with ideas and suggestions bantered about. The forensics people had not had much time yet to review what they had, but they were able to collect a number of fiber samples from the site that looked like they didn’t belong there. There were no prints, other than those of Katie, and the dishes had been washed clean. They were able to determine that he had used some kind of plastic sheets to move the furniture, as small trace samples had been pressed into the carpet, but the sheets themselves must have been brought and taken by the perpetrator. They agreed with Officer Guest, he was bright and knew what he was doing, very little evidence and he’d done this before and not just once but many times. Too slick and too well practiced to do what he was able to do without the owner having a clue.

“Okay, let’s wrap this up ladies and gentlemen; we’ve got lots to work on. I want you to focus on a few things that we’ve highlighted today. First, we need to figure out how he’s getting access without any signs of forced entry. Both victims think they locked their doors, but this is Georgia so we can’t be sure, but let’s assume that they did, so he’s getting keys somewhere. Maybe he works at a hardware store and is making duplicates or something. Breland or Arnold, check with the victims to see if either one has had new keys made in the past year. Secondly, I want to know this psycho’s agenda, any ideas I want them brought to me right away. Now people we have more than this case to deal with but I want everyone to be vigilant and let’s follow this one through. Does anyone have anything further before we break for the day? I’ll be heading this one up myself so address any issues to myself or Arlene at the desk.”

A hand shot up at the back, Ricky Dean, the most senior of the forensic department stepped forward, making it easier to address the large man. Ricky was not a big man himself, only about five and a half feet tall, receding hairline, full mustache but in excellent shape for being almost 60. He was one of those guys that knew a little bit about everything and could fix anything he put his mind to. Whenever anything broke down at the Sheriff’s Office, Rick was the first one called, whether auto, equipment, or guns, he could fix it all.

“Sheriff, I was a thinking, ever since I stepped into that living room that I had seen something like that before, you know like a copycat. It ate at me most of the night and I asked my sweetheart about it and she pegged it right away, The Manson Family out there in California ‘bout 40 years ago. You remember, the Helter Skelter stuff, they made a movie and there was a book I believe. Anyway, after they killed those people they wrote stuff on the walls in their blood. Now that’s not that strange, we’ve seen that even here in Valdosta, but the thing that put it together for me was the furniture. Something about that bugged me, so I got online today and did some research and they did that too. The Manson Family used to go out at night and break into people’s homes and move their furniture around, not for any other reason than to just freak them out when they woke up. Just like our perp is doing here, don’t you think? They called it ‘Creepy Crawling’, kind of gives me the creeps just thinking about it,” Rick explained before moving to the back of the room and out of the limelight.

“Good work, Rick. Will you further that idea of the ‘Creepy Crawling’ and see if there is anything more we need to know about that and any connection we might have to this Manson Family? I’m not aware of any followers living here but let’s be sure. Okay people look sharp; let’s get ‘er done,” the Sheriff concluded, returning to his office, picking up a fresh cup of coffee on the way.

Mr. Marcus greeted Blanche the morning after her conversation with Holly, as he raked up some leaves, scattered about on the grass in the front of the library, “How’s my girl this mornin’?” He stood the rake up next to himself using it as a brace to support his weight while he talked with Blanche, the handle nearly as tall as the small grounds keeper.

“I’m good, really good, thanks for asking. Looks like another beautiful day in store for us. You got lots to do outside today I hope?” her polite nature coming through with her inquiry.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find enough to keep me busy out here until it rains this afternoon, then I’ll move indoors to pester you for awhile,” he said, smiling broadly.

“Sounds good to me. We should have lunch together; did your wife fix you something?”

“Yes sirree. It’s a date then, I’ll swing by the desk around noon,” Marcus indicated, putting the rake back to the ground.

“Nothing like a lunch with my favorite man,” she joked, as she bounded up the stairs to the main doors. “See you then. Have a good morning.”

Mrs. Anderson met her at the main desk, date stamp in hand, anxiously engaged in organizing the materials in front of her. “Blanche, good morning, you look lovely this morning, thank you for toning down the ah, headlights.” Referring to her bust and the outfit she’d worn the other day that had garnered too much attention, according to the director. However, and not a coincidence she was sure, they had accumulated the most single day donations the library had ever seen, that day.

“Thanks and you’re welcome,” the younger librarian said, smiling.

“Take a minute to put your things away then I’ll turn the desk over to you. I’ll be in the museum archives most of the day in case you need me and just have one of the volunteers man the desk while you take your lunch.” The director went back to her stamping and shuffling allowing Blanche the few minutes she needed to get settled.