Steve Gannon - Kane

Finally Long leaned forward. “Okay, give me the rundown.”

“Have you read my crime report?”

Long nodded. “Now I want to hear it from you.”

I reached into my jacket, withdrew a packet of digital photos I’d printed, and placed them on Long’s desk. “The SID shots aren’t back yet, but these will give you an idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Long picked up my photos and began inspecting them without comment. Although his face remained impassive as he worked his way through, I could tell he was shaken by what he saw.

“Here’s how I have it figured,” I said as he set down the final picture. “Shortly after midnight, our guy somehow got in through the front door. Everything else on the first floor was buttoned up tight, so the Larsons either left the door open or he had a key. Deluca’s checking the key angle, running down anybody who had one. Turns out the neighbor who found the bodies knew about a spare key under a flower pot. Maybe somebody else did, too.”

“You’re putting Deluca on as your secondary?”

I nodded. “I know he has his faults. The guy would have sex with a cactus, but when he keeps his mind off the ladies, he’s a good man.”

“Just asking. Go ahead.”

“Okay,” I continued, “once our man got in, he disabled the phones and turned off the power at the breaker box, then went upstairs and surprised the Larsons in bed. He tied them up-wife to the bed, husband on the floor. Not much sign of a struggle, except that the man suffered trauma to the back of his skull. Walter Chang did the posts this morning and says it was done with a blunt instrument. We’re examining blood and hair on a piece of pipe that was twisted in a rope around the guy’s neck. Urine was found on the carpet by the closet door, probably from when the husband’s bladder released at the end. Could have been the killer, though. The lab’s also checking that.”

“Any alarm system?”

“Yeah-out of order. I have a man from the security company going out this afternoon to check it.”

“What’s the time frame on the murders?”

“Between midnight and four AM. The liver temps and gastric contents indicate that the husband and wife died hours after the kid. It appears that once he’d tied up the Mr. and Mrs., the killer went to the boy’s room and put a bullet through his head, then took his time with the parents. Chang recovered slug fragments from the kid’s skull that appear to be from a. 25-caliber projectile. They’re pretty chewed up, but we might be able to match them to a gun. Assuming we get lucky and find one.”

“Shell casing?”

“Nope. If our man used an automatic, he picked up the brass.”

“Why didn’t the kid bolt? He was right down the hall from his parents’ room. There must have been a lot of noise when the killer busted in. Shouting, screaming… something.”

“Maybe the kid was too scared to do anything but hide,” I offered.

Long picked up my photos and flipped through them again, stopping on one of Susan Larson. “Go on,” he said.

“Chang listed the husband’s cause of death as ligature asphyxiation. The hyoid bone was still intact, with the larynx and trachea bruised but not crushed, suggesting a soft type of strangulation-probably to prolong the torture. Chang thinks the husband was repeatedly choked into unconsciousness and then allowed to recover, which explains how the killer managed to cut off Mr. Larson’s eyelids while he was still alive.”

Long shuffled to a close shot of Charles Larson’s face. “Jesus. The guy was alive when…”

“Yeah. The cuts were made with a low blade-angle instrument like a scissors. No damage to the orbits. The guy was careful. The tissue distention and degree of bruising indicate that most of the wife’s wounds were antemortem, too. By the way, in our press release we didn’t mention the eyelids or that the murder knife came from the victims’ kitchen. We also held back the plastic handcuff ties.”

Long nodded his approval. In well publicized crimes, investigators are often inundated with phony confessions, and the descriptors I had withheld could prove invaluable as a means of elimination. “What did Chang get on the woman?” Long asked.

“Extensive blunt trauma to the face and head, but the cause of death was exsanguination,” I answered, still working from memory. “Most of the cuts on her face and chest were window dressing-the guy just having a little fun before the main event. A number of deep abdominal thrusts ended her life. One nicked her aorta, at which point she probably bled out in minutes. The incision angles indicate a right-handed assailant. Several missing tissue parts-a portion of her left earlobe and skin from her neck-were never recovered. I’m assuming he either ate them or took them with him.”

“Semen?”

“Nope. The woman’s anus and vagina were torn, though. He could’ve used something like a dildo, or maybe he wore a rubber. We’re checking for the presence of a prophylactic lubricant.”

“How about the bites? Anything on them?”

“The lab results aren’t in yet, but if the guy’s a secretor we’ll get a blood type. Bob Wolcott over at the UCLA Dental School is studying the bites,” I added, referring to a forensic odontologist who often worked with the LAPD. “He says he should be able to tell whether we have more than one killer, and because the bite wounds go all the way through in some places, he may be able to fabricate plaster casts.”

“Prints?”

“We’re still comparing the latents we lifted against those of the victims, the maid, the woman who found the bodies, and anybody else who might’ve been in the house. A couple of prints not matching anyone’s have turned up. No hits yet on any of the database systems yet. I have a hunch the guy wore gloves. Everything that we know he touched-doorknobs, power panel, knife, and so forth-turned up negative.”

Long took a final look at my photos, then slid them back. “So what’s the good news? Or is there any?”

“Not much,” I answered. “The neighborhood canvass was unproductive. Nobody heard or saw anything. We got hairs from the bathroom, beside the bed, and from pubic combings on the wife. All blood traces are being typed and compared with the victims’ to see whether any came from the killer. We’re trying to get a shoe size and make from the bloody footprints, too. I’m not optimistic, but who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe. In the meantime, how are you proceeding?”

I paused to marshal my thoughts, then continued. “First, we’re running a toxicology analysis on the husband and wife to see whether they were using drugs. I found a small amount of cocaine in the upstairs dresser and a quarter ounce in an office safe downstairs.”

Long raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The wife’s brother opened the safe,” I explained. “Seemed surprised at finding the coke there,” I added. “It’s slim, but if there’s a chance the killings are drug related, we need to check it out. Second, because we didn’t find matching candles, rope, pipes, or Ace bandages in the Larsons’ house, I’m assuming the killer brought those items with him. We’ll run that down with local markets and hardware stores. We’ll also compare the candles and any other similar materials to those found at the Orange County murder scene. Third, one of the Larsons’ cars is missing. A 2010 Infiniti. I have an APB out in the hopes the guy took it after he killed the family. Last, I plan to go through the victims’ records, searching for some personal tie-in. We’ll also round up all known sex offenders in the area, interview friends and coworkers for the possibility of an ex-boyfriend or jealous lover, and see what the word is on the street. The funeral’s set for later this week, so we’re going to post an undercover van there and video everyone who shows up. Plus, family members will be watching for strangers. Speaking of which, sometimes these fruitcakes like to come back for another look. How about getting surveillance on the Larsons’ house?”