Mariah Stewart - Last Words

“It’s just us five,” he told them, gesturing for the newcomers to take a seat.

“What’s going on, Warren?” Ralston asked. “Can we assume this has something to do with that case of yours?”

Daley nodded and reached for a pile of manila folders.

“This is Dr. Reilly’s preliminary autopsy report on Colleen Preston. Take a minute and look it over. I want you all to see what’s on the loose out there.” He passed out the folders.

For the next several minutes, the room was silent, save for the occasional sound of paper rustling. Suddenly the normally stoic Ralston growled, “God damn it, he wrapped up that poor girl alive so she’d suffocate inside that plastic hell. Jesus!”

The others made sounds of disgust and disbelief as they read on. When they’d all finished reading and solemnly closed their files, Daley said, “I’ve been a cop all my life. Been in this job thirty-five years. I’ve never had to deal with anything even remotely like this.”

He flipped open his own file and read details randomly, “Multiple insect bites cover the entire body.”

He turned the page. “Signs of repeated rape. Sodomy.”

He turned the page again. “Wrists and ankles bruised and cut showing signs of having been restrained.”

Another turn. “End of tongue severed…”

“Jesus!” Morris Ralston groaned. “She bit off the end of her tongue!”

One last turn. “Cause of death: suffocation.”

Warren Daley closed the file with a pronounced slap and it was clear to everyone in the room that he was close to losing it. His eyes brimmed with tears. “I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like for that beautiful little girl for however long it was that animal had her.”

He wiped away tears with the back of his hand.

“But let me tell you something about Colleen Preston.” He stood. “She did not go easy.”

He walked to the end of the table where he’d left his briefcase and brought it back to his seat.

“She never gave up. Never stopped fighting. That may be the only consolation her family has at this point.”

Curious eyes watched as he removed a tape recorder from his briefcase and set it on the table.

“Just when you think it can’t get any worse, it does,” he told them. “Dr. Reilly found this tape inside the wrappings.”

He hit play, then sat in his chair, his elbows on the table, his steepled fingers covering part of his face.

“This is your chance, now, Colleen.” A distorted male voice filled the room. “If there’s anything you want to tell your parents, your brother, your sister, you’ll want to do it now.”

There was some indistinguishable sound in the background.

“That wasn’t nice,” the male voice said. “I’m giving you an opportunity to leave something behind that might comfort your family.”

“Momma, Daddy, I’m sorry,” a raspy voice whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…I never thought he’d…” The voice broke into sobs.

“Is that all? This is your last chance, Colleen. No words of wisdom for your sweet little sister?” The voice taunted.

“Fry in hell, you disgusting degenerate psychopathic pig-” she snarled.

The tape went silent.

For a long time, no one could speak.

Finally, when he found his voice, Beck said, “He’s not done, and he’s no amateur.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Daley looked around the table, the circles around his haunted eyes deep and dark.

Rich Meyer covered his face with his hands. “If he’s got Mindy Kenneher…if this is what he’s doing to her…”

“The girl from Cameron who went missing a few weeks before Colleen Preston?” Gillespie asked.

Meyer nodded.

“If the same man took her, the odds are that he’s already killed her,” Beck said softly. “She’s already lost, Rich.”

Meyer sat speechless, contemplating the possibility.

“I asked you all here today because I frankly am at a loss,” Daley told them. “We’re all small forces, no reserves, no specialists to speak of. I’m thinking if he hit Cameron, and he hit us here in Ballard, where’s he going to hit next time? Is there anyone here who thinks he won’t strike again?”

“Yeah.” Gillespie nodded. “I think to a man, we’re all thinking the same thing.”

“We have no leads. Nothing. We might have some trace once the county lab reports come back, but that’s not going to be for a while. We couldn’t get any prints from the wrappings, so we’re assuming he was wearing gloves while he wrapped her up. She didn’t have so much as a smudge on her, so the ME thinks she was probably washed down real good to remove any trace before he wrapped her up. The CSIs tell me they got very little from her, but they’re processing what they did find. Gonna be a while before we know if we have anything that will help. Right now, we’re all blind,” Daley told them. “Anyone has any suggestions, I’d sure love to hear them now.”

“How long had Mindy Kenneher been missing before Colleen disappeared?” Beck asked.

“Mindy disappeared on June first,” Rich Meyer told them, then turned to Warren Daley. “The Preston girl?”

“June twenty-six. She disappeared on Tuesday, June twenty-sixth.”

“Three and a half weeks between the two.” Morris Ralston had taken a small notebook from inside his jacket pocket.

“And today is Tuesday, the tenth of July. Just two weeks since Colleen Preston disappeared.” Beck drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Until we’re proven wrong, I think we need to operate on the assumption that we’re dealing with a repeat offender here.”

“Three weeks between the first and second taking,” Gillespie thought aloud. “And he only held the Preston girl for two weeks.”

“Which means he’s probably looking for another victim,” Meyer noted.

“Or maybe he’s already found one,” Ralston said.

“Anyone reported missing that you know of?” Daley asked. Everyone at the table shook their head.

“Which could mean just about anything.” Beck held up one hand and began to count off the possibilities on his fingers. “One, he’s taken someone who hasn’t been reported missing or who’s far enough away that we haven’t heard of it as yet. Two, he could be sated for a while. Three, he could have moved on. Four, he could have stopped-”

“What are the chances of that?” Ralston said.

“Not much,” Beck agreed.

“Five, he could have been run over by a bus and right now is on a slab in the morgue,” Gillespie said, “and six, he could have been picked up on some charge in another state and is now the guest of, oh, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Delaware…”

“Or just about anyplace else,” Meyer said with disgust.

“Okay, we agree, he could be anywhere right now. Any or none of those possibilities could be the right one.” Beck looked around the table at the others, each top man in their respective jurisdictions. At thirty-seven, Beck was the youngest man there. Two were already close to retirement age, another not far behind. “My gut is telling me that he’s still around. I think he’s going to want to watch, to see what Warren does. He’s going to want to watch the press, the papers, and the TV stations. Then I think he’s going to do it again.”

“I hate to say it, but my gut’s telling me the same thing.” Chief Daley nodded.

“So where do we go from here?” Gillespie asked. “You thinking about calling in the county sheriff?”

“God, I don’t want to do that. I swear I do not.” Daley shook his head. “I had three homicide cases I had to work with Jake Madison, and after the last one, I swore I’d never do it again. The man is the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever had to deal with. His ego is as big as the Atlantic, and once you confer with him, he totally takes over. Wouldn’t be so bad if he knew what he was doing, but he’s just a bumblefuck from the word go. I do not want to bring in the county if it means I’ll have to deal with him. As important as this case is, turning it over to him will all but guarantee our killer gets away.”