“Yes. Marie Sinclair ran away from her home in Denver, Colorado, six months ago. She had been hopping through different states, taking Uber when she had money, and occasionally hitchhiking. She was on her way to California when she got into an argument with the Uber driver and he dropped her off at a gas station. The driver reported her to the company for acting aggressively. He says he saw a black car pull up in front of the gas station shortly after he left. Marie leaned in to the window to talk to the driver.”
“Did he catch the model or the manufacturer’s name?”
The Sergeant shook his head.
“Let’s go down to the gas station and see if we can get our hands on CCTV footage of the incident.”
It was imperative that they found the vehicle the murderer was driving. Overall, she felt optimistic that they were on the right track. They just had to move quickly if they wanted to prevent him from taking any more victims.
When she drove up to the motel later that night, she was surprised to find the red Corvette parked outside. Her eyes skimmed over the parking lot and a smile spread over her lips when she saw a sullen-looking Naomi and a jittery Adrian leaning against the car’s hood.
“Now this is a pleasant surprise,” she said as she got out of the car and walked toward them.
“We were driving back to Virginia and thought we’d stop by here for a bit,” he said.
He walked away with Alice so they were out of Naomi's earshot. "Listen, I've been going over the investigation and I was wondering whether you guys checked the bags for fingerprints?"
"We did but nothing turned up." The bastard was clever enough to wash the bags as well before dumping them.
"I read about this new fingerprinting technique that is being used in Canada." He fished in his jacket's pocket for his cell phone. Alice watched him tap his thumb on the screen and open an article. He flipped the screen toward her.
Alice took the cell phone from his hand and began to read.
"It's called Vacuum Metal Deposition. It uses 10 milligrams of gold that is vaporized. The particles adhere to the amino acids found in fingerprints, forming an invisible film over the material. The sample is then introduced to zinc which binds to the deposited layer of gold. It is extremely effective in detecting even the smallest traces of fingerprints over nonporous materials," he explained.
Alice listened intently to what he had to say. "Do you have the address of the lab that performs these tests?"
"Yes. But it could take up to a month for you to get results."
It would be too late. She let out a troubled breath. Time was of the essence. She could not afford to lose more people. She stared at the article and thought about the black garbage bags sitting in the evidence storage unit at the police station collecting dust and made up her mind.
"Alright, I'll have them send the bags for testing." It would take up a lot of time but it was a gamble worth taking. In the meanwhile, they could focus on getting the CCTV footage from the gas station to locate the car.
She handed him the phone and glanced at Naomi, skulking near the car.
"It's late. You sure you want to keep driving?" she asked, turning toward Adrian.
He smiled wearily. "It depends. If you can get my headstrong girlfriend to agree then, yes, I'd appreciate a little rest." Alice noticed his bleary eyes and realized he had been working on the computer for long hours and was probably exhausted.
She walked toward Naomi. "Why don't you guys stay the night in the motel?"
"No, thanks. We better get going," Naomi replied quickly.
"It's just that there is a killer on the loose and I don't think it's safe for the two of you traveling alone this late."
Naomi's pupils dilated with fear and she glanced at Adrian.
"We could leave early in the morning," he offered with a shrug.
Reluctantly, she agreed and began taking her bag out of the car. She called out after Alice as she started walking toward the office to book a room for the two of them.
"We'll only be here a few hours. I could sleep on the floor in your room and Adrian could spend the night in Tyler's," she suggested.
Alice glanced at Adrian. He looked disappointed. He quickly busied himself to get the bags out of the car so Naomi did not see the hurt in his eyes. Alice wondered what was up between the two of them. They seemed perfectly comfortable making out in the car in front of her and Tyler on their way to California but avoided sharing a hotel room.
"Okay. If that's what you want."
The relief that flashed across Naomi's face was unmistakable. She grabbed her bag and followed Alice up the staircase and to her room.
Alice took the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it open and flicking on the lights.
"I'm sorry for the mess," she said as she strolled inside, shrugging out of her jacket and tossing it on the floor as she went.
Naomi walked in slowly and stared at the pictures of headless torsos and dismembered limbs scattered all over the bed, horrified.
Gingerly, she stepped close and placed her bag on the carpet. Alice had gone in the bathroom for a shower. Working long hours in the sweltering heat of the desert and battling dusty winds left her worn out at the end of the day. She could not wait to wash away the dirt and grime.
Unable to tear her gaze away from the grisly pictures, Naomi stepped closer, picking them up. Alice came out of the shower, her hair dripping wet and skin glistening with moisture. She had slipped into a baggy T-shirt and boxer shorts.
Her feet left dark imprints on the teal-colored carpet as she walked out of the bathroom. She looked up at Naomi and found her staring at the photographs in her hand.
"Naomi," she called out.
Her eyes had welled with tears and she covered her mouth with her hand. Naomi dropped the photographs, letting them fall to her feet. She staggered backward, colliding with the wall and sliding down to the floor. Placing her head over her knees, she broke into uncontrolled sobs.
Alice dashed to her side and wrapped her in her arms.
"That could have been me," she blubbered. "Oh, God! That could have been me."
Alice tried desperately to calm her. "It's over Naomi. Jill is locked up behind bars. She could never get to you."
It did nothing to comfort her. Her body trembled with sobs. Memories of the dank basement where she was imprisoned for months flooded her mind. She experienced the same terror she experienced back then — a pervasive fear of excruciating pain and imminent death that rendered her numb.
Jill's menacing face flashed before her — her eyes burning with an intense loathing and her tongue spitting venom. She remembered being called slut over and over again and getting punished for sleeping with some guy or the other from their old neighborhood and high school whom she had never heard of.
It had taken her an entire year to open up to Adrian and become involved romantically. Even then, at times, it felt too soon. Jill's words would ring in her ears, forcing her to pull back from him and go back inside her shell.
Alice could feel her friend succumbing to her demons. The memory she had been trying so hard to repress now clawed its way out of the recesses of her mind and dragged her into a frightening abyss.
She let go of Naomi and rushed to grab her cell phone and dial Adrian's number. There was a loud banging on the door moments after she had placed the call and informed him about Naomi's breakdown.
Alice yanked the door open and Adrian dashed inside. He scooped his arms around Naomi, stroking her hair and whispering soothingly in her ear. Looking up, he gestured at Alice to go through Naomi's suitcase. Alice unzipped it and lifted the lid.
"Look for a bottle of green pills, they're somewhere inside."
Alice did as she was told and began rummaging through the neatly folded clothes. She found the bottle and handed it to Adrian who popped it open and took out two pills on the palm of his hand.
He gave them to Naomi and motioned at Alice to bring a glass of water. Alice quickl
y grabbed the glass lying on the bedside and ran to the sink to fill it with water.
She brought the glass to Naomi, who popped the pills in her mouth and tipped over the glass of water, draining the last drop.
Alice cleared the bed, picking up her laptop and stacking all the papers, files, and photographs in a bundle. Adrian helped Naomi to her feet and steered her to the bed.
He sat her down on the mattress and proceeded to take off her shoes. Whispering calm words to her, he eased her to lie down and close her eyes.
Within moments, she had drifted off into a deep sleep. Alice gave him a relieved look. "Thank God, you knew what to do," she said.
"She has these episodes," he explained. "It is why she tries so hard to avoid certain triggers." Adrian picked up the bottle of pills from the carpet. "Heavy-duty tranquilizers are the only thing that calms her down."
Alice noticed that he looked drained. She glanced sideways at the stack of files on the table and felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"It's okay," he gave her a tired smile. "You're the sort of person who seeks calm in the eye of the storm. I couldn't imagine you understand what it must be like to be her."
Alice felt an urge to clarify but bit back her tongue. She wanted to tell him that she knew exactly what it felt like to be held hostage by the past. That there were times she too spiraled into a dark place no matter how hard she tried to fight it. That she was living with a trauma that meant getting up and fighting a battle with herself each day.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, breaking her chain of thought.
She nodded and followed him to the door.
"Call me if she gets up and has another episode in the night," he said as he stepped out of the door.
Alice smiled at him. "She's lucky to have you."
He glanced over her shoulder at Naomi, lying asleep on the bed. "I hope that's how she feels as well."
With Naomi fast asleep, Alice sat on the carpet and flipped open her laptop. Something had been nagging her mind ever for the past few days. There seemed to be a lull in the killings.
They had discovered the first victim, Jeffery Keune's body parts roughly a month ago. The second victim, Marie Sinclair, was discovered the following week. Then Jeffery's missing parts were found on the beach.
It had been nearly a week since then. While she was grateful that no more victims had turned up, a part of her worried the extensive media coverage may have tipped off the killer and made him either careful not to commit more murders or clean up his act real good so that he was not caught.
Alice checked her email. Sergeant Whitfield had sent her a message. She clicked it open. The email had an attachment and she hurried to download it.
Alice felt anticipation build up inside her as she played the footage. The grainy black and white video showed a car pull to a stop. The door to the backseat swung open and a teenage girl stormed outside. She slammed the door shut and appeared to shout expletives at the driver as he gunned the car and drove away.
The girl paced back and forth at the deserted gas station. A black car cruised to a stop before her and the window on the driver's side rolled down.
The girl bent over the window to talk to the driver. Alice knitted her brows as she watched the scene unfold. They seemed to be talking a long while and, from the girl's gestures, it looked like they were having some kind of negotiation.
Finally, the girl pulled back, shaking her head. She walked away from the car, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. She looked sullenly at the driver.
Half a minute passed and nothing happened. Alice's heartbeat quickened when she saw the man extend an arm out of the window — a coiled dragon tattoo clearly visible on the forearm.
The man beckoned her to come inside. The girl hesitated for a minute before walking toward him and getting inside the passenger seat.
Alice felt her stomach drop. For a moment there she could have saved her life. She could have been alive right now living the life she dreamed of if she had just taken a second to listen to her better judgment and turned away.
The car zoomed out of the frame as soon as the door slammed shut and Alice stared at the still image of the empty gas station wishing things could have been different for 17-year-old Marie Sinclair.
She played the video again, pausing it when the hand emerged from the car window and zooming in on the tattoo.
She had to run it through a specialist and check if it belonged to members of any specific crime ring. The murders may have satiated his appetite for now, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would strike again.
Alice narrowed her gaze at the tattoo and vowed to catch him before he could strike down another victim.
CHAPTER 6
The painfully slow speed of the Internet connection made Adrian groan out loud. He waited for the image to load on the screen. The picture of the tattoo that Alice had provided him felt eerily familiar. He ran the image through an FBI image-matching technology called Next Generation Identification which was used to identify criminal's scars, marks, and tattoos.
He groaned as the system lagged in loading the image result. It took a few minutes for the matching images to fill the screen. Adrian pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned close to the computer screen. A wide smile spread over his face as he realized that it was a perfect match.
He reached for his cell phone and dialed Alice's number. She was going to flip when she found out.
***
Alice had Sergeant Whitfield perform a thorough background check of Marie Sinclair. She was suspicious of the negotiation that took place between Marie and the supposed killer and had her own thoughts about what it may have involved. But she wanted to be sure before jumping to conclusions.
The shrill cry of the cell phone startled her. She grabbed the phone and pressed it to her ear waiting for Sergeant Whitfield to speak.
"Turns out Jeffery Keune was not the only one with secrets," he said. "Marie Sinclair had been working as a sex worker for the past year."
Alice fell back in her chair. She did not know why she still felt shocked when it made perfect sense. Maybe it was the girl's age and the clear innocent eyes that she had seen in the photograph that made it hard for her to believe.
"Anything else?" she asked, quietly.
"Yes," there was a long pause as the sergeant chose his next words carefully, "there's been another killing."
Alice jolted upright. She listened to her erratic heartbeat as she waited for the sergeant to tell her more.
"A body was found outside a Mexican restaurant on 227 Chestnut Street."
"Chopped up and stuffed inside a bag?"
There was another long pause. "Not exactly . . ."
When Alice drove down to the address and witnessed the crime scene, she could only describe it as the most shocking display of brutality she had ever seen.
The victim, a 20-year-old male who worked as a delivery boy at the restaurant, was cut up into pieces in a fashion similar to the previous victims; but this time the body parts were not shoved inside garbage bags and thrown away discreetly like a shameful act that needed to be concealed.
The parts, washed and cleaned, were arranged on the asphalt outside the restaurant to make up the entire body as if the killer had left the puzzle solved for them this time.
He had not only gotten bold in committing the murders but he was ridiculing them for not being able to catch him as well.
"What a mockery you feds made of a murder investigation," Police Chief Eric Warshaw grumbled behind her.
She whirled around to face him, anger flashing in her eyes.
His face was contorted in rage and froth forming in his mouth. He looked at her seething in fury. "Marcus should have thought better than to send someone as incompetent as you two," he bellowed, looking at her and Tyler.
A thousand smart replies sprang up inside her head and almost rolled off her tongue. Tyler saw her balled up fists and clenched jaw and
placed a reassuring hand over her shoulder, steering her away from the police chief.
He threw back his head and let out a bark of laughter. "That's right take her away before she knocks me down."
"Let it go," he said quietly in her ear as they walked toward their car. "He's an idiot."
She tried her best to shake away thoughts of the obnoxious police chief as she sat next to Tyler in the car. Her phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. Adrian's voice ringed with excitement. "I've got some great news!"
Good. I could use some.
"The tattoo belongs to members of the Italian mafia which operated in New York in the early '70s."
Her eyes sparkled with renewed hope of catching the killer as she listened to him speak.
"My guess is that the guy you are looking for got himself registered for the Vietnam War to evade felony charges being associated with the mafia."
"Any way we could get a record of all the members of this mafia?"
"Sorry, but the records are very old and probably lost. This is the most I can do to help."
She got off the phone with Adrian and turned to Tyler, her eyes brimming with excitement.
"Let's run the composite sketch we got from Hailey along with a photograph of the tattoo in every media outlet," she said, snapping the seatbelt in place. "And go through footage from every toll plaza between Arizona and California on the day Marie Sinclair was picked up."
Tyler saw the determined look in her eyes and knew it was pointless to argue with her. He sighed and turned on the ignition.
Alice looked ahead as he gunned the car on the road.
She was not going to leave a single stone unturned to catch that bastard.
***
The delivery boy who lost his life struck a chord with the townspeople. Maybe it was the brutal nature in which the killer had displayed his naked body outside the restaurant for all to see, but it spurred the community into action.
Vigils and protests against the murders were held in the city. The protests garnered significant media attention. Alice watched a local news channel cover the protest; some of the placards were directed toward the authorities and questioned their competence and intent to bring the murderer to justice.
Scheme Of Sin (Wayne Falls Book 3) Page 6