Mariah Stewart - Dead End

“You realize what you’re saying?” He bristled. “The only people close to the investigation are the cops working the case. I’ve known all these guys forever, since I joined the force in Lyndon. I’ve worked with every one of them at one time or another, either as a county detective or as a Lyndon cop. I can’t believe that any of these guys would kill a kid.”

“Someone’s killing them, Evan. And you of all people should know that killers don’t look like killers. They look like the rest of us.”

“I can’t argue with that, but I just don’t see any of these guys killing little girls. I couldn’t even narrow the list down to a few likely suspects, Annie.”

“It’ll be the person you least expect. It always is,” she said almost absently as she made notes on the yellow legal pad.

“So, you almost finished with your analysis?”

“Almost.” She nodded. “I won’t be too much longer. I want to get this e-mailed to the chief of police tonight.”

He sat up and began to lay the photos of the murdered girls side by side across the table.

“Those are your vics?” She looked up from her notes.

He nodded and continued setting out the pictures in order of the girls’ deaths.

Annie put her notes aside and sat next to him, studying the photos.

“It’s not the same guy, sweetie,” she said softly.

“Annie…”

“Look at these girls in their school uniforms, at the way they project such innocence. Now look at them through his eyes, at the way he’s left them, defiled. He’s ruined them. He’s taken something clean and pure and ravaged it. He’s stolen from them. He has tremendous power over them now. He’s definitely feeling very proud, very smug. He’s stolen something precious, and no one can stop him. No one is powerful enough to stop him.”

“You think this is mostly about power for him?”

“It is only about power. My guess is he works a low-level job where he’s in contact with people whom he perceives as socially and economically superior to him.”

“We all come in contact with people like that.”

“This is daily, this is close contact on a daily basis. He resents that he’s placed in a position of inferiority, of subservience, when he knows he’s morally and intellectually superior to all of them. That he’s forced to work for them, that his livelihood is dependent on people he thinks are less than he. That they can’t see his brilliance marks them all as fools. This is how he retaliates. He’s showing them who has the power. He’s showing them who’s really in charge.”

“And you don’t see that here?” Evan tapped on the photos of the last three victims.

“Not at all. Where are the symbols of purity, of innocence? He’s tried to make them look the same as the others, I think in an effort to fool the police. To make you think this is all the work of the same man. So far, he’s succeeding.”

“You feel that strongly about this?”

“There is no question in my mind.” She studied his face. “I’m sensing a lot of resistance here, Evan. Why so reluctant?”

“If I take this in to the office, I have to be able to convince the chief of detectives that there are two killers, not one, out there targeting young girls. Yet I have no DNA, no trace, nothing, to distinguish the crimes.”

“Want me to write a memo or something outlining why?”

“Sort of like a note from my mother to give to my teacher?”

“You’re the one who’s pressing here.”

“Maybe a memo would help,” he conceded. “And keep in mind that right now there is no link. We’re still waiting for the lab results from the first two vics.”

“What’s taking so long?” She closed the file and set it on the table near the photos.

“It’s a small lab, only a few techs. They’re doing their best, but this is not the only open case in the county right now.”

“Why not send what you have to the Bureau’s lab?”

“What’s the timetable there?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” Annie grinned.

“Suppose you asked…”

“We’d have the results in a week, maybe better.”

“And if I asked?”

“What year is it now?”

“So how do we get you involved?”

“I write that memo, you give it to your chief, tell him we can get the evidence expedited if only he asks. I can take it from there.”

“You have friends at the lab?”

“You betcha.”

“What’s your take on this possible second killer? You’re pretty specific about the first one; how do you peg this other killer that no one sees but you?”

“I’m still working on that.” She stood and stretched, then took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “I thought maybe I’d sleep on it.”

“Excellent idea. I think I’ll sleep on it, too.” He tugged her toward the steps leading up. “I’m thinking maybe between the two of us, we should be able to come up with something…”

Evan sat on the edge of the desk in the medical examiner’s office, reading through the autopsy report of Caitlin McGill and last night’s unnamed victim, and waited for the M.E. to finish washing up.

“So the throats were definitely slashed with different blades?”

“Definitely.” The county M.E., Agnes Jenkins, washed her hands at the sink in the far corner of her office. “Not even close. The knife used on the schoolgirls was thin and finely sharpened. The knife used on the unidentified girls was thicker, duller. Different width.”

“What do you think of two different killers?”

She reached for a roll of paper towels to dry her hands.

“I think it’s highly likely. As a matter of fact, I’d bet on it. The schoolgirls-let’s call them the group-one victims, just for the purpose of this conversation-had been, for the most part, still in possession of their hymens before the attacks. Not so the unidentified girls-the group-two vics, if you will. Internal examination showed that these girls were no novices.”

“Prostitutes?”

“That, or they were real party girls.” She frowned. “They were pretty young, though. Hard to tell for certain; their teeth weren’t well cared for and two of them showed evidence of old healed fractures. And all three of them were small, physically. I’d guess from poor nutrition at some time in their life, most likely early childhood.”

“Semen?”

“Not in or on any of them. Both guys wrapped up first.” She rolled up the paper towel and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “It will be interesting to see what we get back from the lab, don’t you think?”

“I’ve asked the chief to okay a transfer to the FBI lab, just to speed up the process. Our county lab is way behind and just isn’t willing to expedite this case over any others in the pipeline.”

“That would be Jeffrey Coogan.” She named the head of the lab and made a face. “He’s not much of a team player. You’ll never get him to put one case aside to work on another. He’s so goddamned anal. Everything in strict order.”

“He’s not happy about giving up the samples, but the chief leaned on him good and hard. I suspect the D.A. might have made a call as well.”

“Sometimes you just have to talk tough with the assholes, Crosby.” She grinned. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“You could get me a copy of the autopsy report on our latest victim.”

“As soon as Mary Ellen out there finishes transcribing my tape, it’s yours. I’ll have her call you and you can stop back and pick it up.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“And you’ll get me a copy of the lab results as soon as the FBI gets them to you?”

“Absolutely.” He hopped off the desk and started to the door.