Michael McGarrity - Everyone Dies

Kerney gave Andy and the others a quick nod. Nobody smiled. Sal Molina held out a bloodstained note encased in a clear plastic sleeve. It had a hole in it and read:

KERNEY, DO YOU KNOW ME YET? GUESS WHO’S NEXT.

“It was probably written with a fine-point permanent ink marker,” Molina said.

“Has anybody had a look inside the vehicle?” Kerney asked.

“I did a quick visual check, Chief,” Neal replied. “The victim is an unknown, naked white female, age probably late forties, I’d guess. Slender build, maybe five-six with long, light-brown hair. I saw no clothing or personal possessions inside the vehicle.”

“The killer posed her,” Otero said. “Wrapped her arms around the dog’s head and placed it on her chest. The note was attached to the body by a knitting needle driven into the lower abdomen below the navel.”

“Driven how deeply?” Kerney asked.

“Far enough to kill an unborn child,” Larry said.

The appalled look on Kerney’s face was palpable.

“We don’t know if he did it before or after she was dead,” Andy added, breaking the silence.

The men surrounding Kerney stared at the ground with expressionless eyes.

“Do we have an approximate time of death?” he asked, forcing himself to stay focused.

“According to the ME, it’s a fresh kill,” Larry said, lifting his gaze to Kerney’s face. “Two, maybe three hours.”

“And the cause of death?” Kerney asked.

“We don’t know, Chief,” Molina replied. “Except for the puncture wound to the stomach, there are no other visible traumas to the body. The ME thinks she may have been poisoned.”

“What about the van?”

“The tire tracks match the imprints I took at the horse barn,” Thorpe replied.

“Well, at least that’s nailed down,” Kerney said, trying to keep the alarm he felt out of his voice. He glanced at Larry. “What’s under way?”

“We’re running a records check on the van, and searching the missing-person database for a match,” Larry replied. “Plus, Lieutenant Molina has a man inside the courthouse pulling the tape from the parking lot surveillance camera.”

“Did he view it?” Kerney asked.

“We all did,” Andy answered. “The perp’s a ballsy bastard, Kerney. It shows him parking the van, opening the rear door, throwing a finger at the camera, and walking away. We’ll have the lab enhance it to see if we can get an ID.”

“What else was on the tape?”

“Nothing,” Molina said.

“So where did the perp go?” Kerney asked. “Did he have another car nearby? Did he walk away?”

“We don’t know,” Larry said. “But Chief Baca and I have every available officer from both departments hunting for him. We’re checking public transportation, cab companies, and all residential areas within walking distance.”

“What about nearby hotels and motels?” Kerney asked.

“We’re on it,” Molina said quietly.

“I’d like to go out on patrol and help find this guy, sir,” Thorpe said to Chief Baca, eager to get away from the tight-lipped gloom that permeated the group.

“Go ahead,” Andy replied.

Thorpe hurried to his unit. Kerney turned to Sal Molina. “When the ME is finished, I want people all over that vehicle, top to bottom. I want to know where it’s been and who’s been in it. I want to know the name of every person who ever owned it, ever rode in it. I want every fiber, every hair, every piece of dirt, mud, or pebble stuck in the tread of a tire found and analyzed. If there’s a leaf or twig caught in the undercarriage, I want it logged into evidence, and I want to know where it came from. Nothing comes out of or off that vehicle that isn’t bagged and tagged.”

“We’ll do it right, Chief,” Molina said.

“I want the entire vehicle dusted for prints: the engine compartment, wheel wells, and every other possible place that could have been handled or touched. When that’s done, tow it, have it stripped down, and put everything under a microscope.”

“My techs are on the way,” Andy said.

“Good,” Kerney said. “I want the autopsy started right now, and a plant biologist and soil expert looking at what we get off that vehicle as soon as possible. Let’s get that videotape enlarged and analyzed pronto. Wake people up if you have to.”

“Anything else?” Otero asked.

“That will do for starters. I’ll be in my office.”

They watched Kerney walk away, his back stiff with anger.

“God, I hated to tell him about the knitting needle,” Larry said.

In unison, the men nodded glumly and then turned to the business at hand.

What was he missing? Who was this guy? In the quiet of his office, Kerney started from scratch and went through every bit of information that had been assembled so far. Amid the reams of contacts, follow-ups, and closed-case research conducted by the teams of officers and detectives, there wasn’t one reasonable suspect in sight.

The phone rang and the light to his private line blinked. Kerney answered quickly, thinking it might be Sara calling to tell him the baby was on the way.

“Do you know me yet?” a man’s soft voice asked.

Kerney didn’t respond. He picked up a pen and started writing everything down.

The man chuckled at Kerney’s silence. “You know nothing.”

“You’d be surprised,” Kerney said.

“So who’s next?” the man asked.

“Let’s get together and talk about it,” Kerney said.

“There’s no need for this to go any further.”

The man laughed. “I can’t stop now, Kerney. I’m planning a two-for-one special, just for you. Haven’t you got that figured out yet?”

“Do you think I’m going to let that happen?” Kerney asked, biting back his exasperation.

“You can’t stop it. But before that, I’m going to make your world blow up in your face.”

“Meaning what?” Kerney asked, as he kept writing.

“Since you deserve to lose the most, I’ve decided to improvise a bit, expand my horizons, and add a few more people to my list. It’s time to wipe out your bloodline completely, Kerney.”

“Tell me more,” Kerney said.

“I can’t do that,” the man replied. “Time’s up, Kerney, and the clock is ticking.”

The line went dead. Quickly, Kerney reviewed his notes, which were almost a verbatim record of the conversation. He underlined the phrases “blow up” and “the clock is ticking.” Had the perp given him a hint? Was there a bomb planted somewhere ready to go off?

His first thoughts turned to Sara at their rental house on Upper Canyon Road. The impulse to go to her drove him to his feet. He anchored himself back in the chair, used his handheld radio, and made contact with the state police officer on duty outside the house.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Affirmative, Chief,” Officer Barney Wade replied. “I just made a sweep around the property. It’s all quiet.”

“Have you seen my wife?”

“Not since she came home with you earlier, Chief. I think she’s sleeping. I saw the bedroom light go off soon after you left. Do you want me to check on her?”

“The house may be rigged with a bomb. Wake her up, get her out of the house now, and move away from the property, and stay on the air while you do it,” Kerney said. “I’ll call out the bomb squad. Keep your microphone keyed open.”

“Ten-four, Chief,” Wade replied.

With a phone in one hand and his handheld in the other, Kerney listened to Wade pound on the door while the line to the bomb squad commander’s residence seemed to ring endlessly. Finally, Lieutenant Alan Evertson picked up.

“I want you over at my house, pronto, Al,” Kerney said as he listened to Wade talking to Sara. “The entire team, now. Call out SWAT on my command and clear the immediate neighborhood if you have to.”