“If you mean the victim once had testicles and a penis, the answer is yes.”
Agent Locklear blew air from her puckered lips. “This changes the entire complexity of the situation. I don’t exactly see a penis; the genitals are missing.”
“Genitals yes. The pelvic bone is here; and, that is a male pelvis. I’ll have to wait on the DNA and serial numbers on the implants to come back to make a positive identification. Now, if you both excuse me, I have to complete this autopsy and draft my report. Before you say it; yes, as soon as I know something, I’ll call.”
***
Porter Johnson waited in the surgical bay for Dr. Franklin who entered flashing a grin of anticipatory relish. “Good afternoon Ms. Johnson.”
Her eyes glittered. Things are looking up.
Dr. Franklin gazed straight into her mouth. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m from Kenner, born and raised. I attend the University of New Orleans where I’m studying to be a writer.”
“A writer, that’s ambitious. Do you have a backup plan?”
“I really don’t need one.” She laughed nervously. “I’m kidding. I’m majoring in journalism.”
“I see. Now, tell me what your plans are?”
“I want to be a news reporter at a television station.”
“Not those plans, your plans for your teeth.”
“Oh, my orthodontist told me I had to have my molars extracted to make room for my teeth to straighten. That’s where you come in.”
“Got it. Now, open wide and let me look. Porter, your smile has great potential.” He put a mask over her nose and turned on the nitrous oxide. “Now relax. It will be all over before you know it.” She has a fabulous tongue.
***
The students undertook a written test proctored by Professor Faust. Blaze fidgeted in her chair like a toddler who needed to go to the bathroom as she tapped her pencil on her desk. Her leg bounced nervously.
Professor Faust strode down the aisle. “Ms. Angela, everyone needs to think.”
“Sorry Professor, I’ll do better.”
Mag raised her hand in a state of relief. “I’m finished. Thank you, Jesus.”
Other hands raised, and Professor Faust retrieved their papers. “Blaze hurry up. You’re the last one again.”
She wrote something and erased it as she bore down on the pencil. Again, she wrote something and erased it.
“Thirty seconds, Ms. Angela.”
She wrote an answer. “All right already.” She threw her pencil onto the desk and raised her paper high in the air for the Professor to retrieve.
“Congratulations. As of this moment you have completed every test that will comprise part of your final grade. Our next class will be the last for your group presentations. So, there aren’t any surprises, Blaze, Mag and Jenni will present first. I strongly advocate that each group provide handouts, use technology, posters or other creative means for your presentation. Questions? Great. I’ll proceed on today’s topic.”
Blaze’s jaw dropped; and she threw her hands on her lap. “Really Professor? We just took a test.”
“Really, Blaze. Today’s lecture is on the psychological aspect of a serial killer. I believe everyone will find it of interest considering there is one lurking on campuses in this area.”
Roth sat on the edge of his seat. “Now that piques my interest.”
Blaze quickly raised her hand.
“Yes, Blaze.”
“Are you about to tell us what makes a serial killer?”
“Blaze just listen.” Professor Faust’s voice, blunt and curt struck a nerve in Blaze as she huffed and leaned back into her seat slouching.
“When you think of serial killers, you might not think he or she could be the person sitting next to you in class, at a movie theater, your neighbor across the hall, your banker or even your parent or grandparent. Look around. Do you see or think any of your peers are serial killers?”
Blaze squeezed both arm rests; her body tensed. Oh shit. It could be anyone.
“This line of thinking has been verified when people like you and me are interviewed after being told they know or are related to a serial killer. Case in point. Kerri Rawson, the daughter of Wichita Kansas BTK serial killer Dennis Rader broke the family’s nine-year silence and talked about her father’s ten murders. She acknowledged in an interview her dad was a fun dad who was always there for the family. He never missed a birthday, a recital or a ballgame. Her mother didn’t suspect she was married to a serial killer until he was arrested. Another case in point was the Golden State Killer. After four decades evading law enforcement, he was caught through familial DNA. Like Rader, Joseph DeAngelo was married, had children and became a grandfather living in suburbia. He held the same job over thirty-five years and retired. He remained at large in the same area he raped and killed his victims. At the time of his arrest, in twenty eighteen, his daughter and granddaughter lived with him. None of his family, neighbors or coworkers suspected him of being a serial killer. When the armored police arrived to arrest him, he didn’t act surprised; he merely stated he had a roast in the oven.”
Roth raised his hand. “How do you know if someone you know is a serial killer?” He leaned back with a proud smirk of self-deprecation.
“You don’t until they are arrested, unless you’re a victim. However, criminal profilers use a variety of techniques and statistics. For instance, there are certain aspects that dominate the mind of a serial killer - the feeling of alienation, desire for attention or the need for power.”
Roth pursed his lips. I buy power and alienation, but not the need for attention.
“Most are abused by one or both parents. They seek power and often revenge through surrogate killing.”
Nope. No parental abuse here. Roth raised his hand.
“Yes, Roth. What is your question?”
“If your parent or grandparent was a serial killer can you inherit the trait?”
Blaze scooted to the edge of her seat. “Are they psychopaths?”
Roth tapped Blaze on her shoulder. “You think serial killers are psychopaths?”
“Well yes. Who else would be one? You?”
The class laughed at Blaze’s statement.
Roth tightened his brow. You have no idea. Go ahead, laugh at me now. You won’t be laughing later.
Professor Faust cleared his throat. “Let me put it this way. A serial killer is one who has killed at least three victims.”
I’ve tripled that. Roth crossed his legs. His expression filled with pride.
“One might even go as far to say they are psychopaths. However, not every psychopath turns into a serial killer. Roth, because someone’s relative is or was a serial killer, doesn’t mean they too will become one themselves. There is nothing to suggest or support the trait is inherited.”
Roth rolled his eyes. “So, if heredity has nothing to do with it, is the Sorority serial killer a psychopath?” He wanted to understand for himself. How sick am I?
“I’ll leave that up to the forensic psychologist on the case.”
Blaze raised her hand. “Don’t you mean Dr. Wright?”
“Yes, I’ll leave that up to Dr. Wright to determine, allow me to continue. The mystery surrounding what causes psychopathy is still unresolved. There’s a constant debate on whether it is a product of how the child was raised or if there is something in the brain that makes one have violent tendencies or the lack of remorse.”
Roth gazed at his professor with an inquisitive stare. He’s right. I don’t have remorse for killing those bitches.
The professor scholarly scratched his chin. “One should expect that if there was an abnormality in the brain, it could essentially be isolated and surgically corrected. Scientists performed studies on the brains of dead serial killers. The findings showed a decreased connectivity between two regions of the brain. Especially the amygdala which explains why serial killers do not feel sad or remorse. Though they feel physical pain, they
themselves do not suffer emotionally.”
Roth took a deep breath and exhaled. That’s a lie. I killed those girls because they hurt my feelings.
Blaze popped up as she threw her hands into the air. “Are you saying serial killers are brain maniacs?”
Professor Faust returned an accusatory glance toward Blaze.
CHAPTER 38
Is Anybody Listening?
Robby covered Gayle Wallace’s corpse using a clean white crisp sheet before he slid her into the wall cooler. “I’ll finish you in a little bit.” He moved to the autopsy table where mixed body parts lay in the position as if attached. The bloody suitcase secured in an evidence bag rested on a smaller tray at the foot of the table. Robby grasped the handheld bone saw and leaned over the torso. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll put you back together like you belong once they find the rest of you.” He took a deep breath and started the bone saw. His eyes flushed; and his body shivered.
Matthew entered the autopsy room as Robby cut into the torso. The odor of fecal matter from the intestines and the decomposing flesh overwhelmed him. He gagged as he looked at the half-corpse and stopped in his tracks. He put his hands into the air chest high and glanced at the severed head on the second table. “Wait! This isn’t natural. I take it they found the body in the bag’s head.” Matthew held back his vomit.
Robby powered down the bone saw. “I never figured you as having a weak stomach. They found the head in the park’s pond, it looks like between the ducks and the fish, it’s pretty much unidentifiable.”
“My stomach is fine. On the other hand, I have a problem seeing you cut into a dead body and brains pouring out of a soggy bloated head.”
“Good thing you’re not tracking Hannibal Lector.”
Matthew, about to puke leered toward Robby.
“I meant that as a joke, where’s your sense of humor?”
“That left the day my sister died.”
“Are you supposed to be here? Aren’t you a suspect in another case?”
“Ima hired me to find Anna; you know that. This could be her.”
“Don’t get in my way or touch anything.” Robby grabbed the ophthalmoscope from a surgical tray. “Dr. Franklin will be here soon to take teeth impressions. Hopefully, he’ll be able to identify her.”
“I sure hope so.”
He placed the device over his head in a ball cap fashion and switched on the light beam. He bent within inches of the corpse’s face to examine the eye. “Deedra, record session. Both audio and video.”
“With pleasure Dr. Ziegler.”
“An examination of the left eye reveals tiny yellow speck dots, and a fully dilated pupil.”
Matthew shuttered as if he experienced the heebie-jeebies and stepped backward. “Can’t say I’ve seen this before.” Matthew turned away. “I don’t care to see it either. How do you do this?”
“I prefer the company of the dead.”
“That’s kinda creepy.”
Robby gave Matthew a coldhearted glance.
“Is there anything in common with the victims of the Sorority serial killer?”
“They’re all dead.”
Matthew glared at Robby again.
“Sorry about that. I’ll be serious. Each victim of the Sorority serial killer is female, early to late twenties and a brunette with green eyes. The unsub has an established pattern and a signature. However, this victim you found has a bullet wound. It appears the bullet nicked the left gastric artery causing her to bleed out. This isn’t the work of the Sorority serial killer.”
“Do you have a name?”
The autopsy room phone rang; so, Robby removed the assistive seeing device and answered it. “This is Dr. Ziegler… That means we have confirmation on our victim’s identity. Thank you. I’ll notify Agents Mansfield and Locklear.” Robby replaced the receiver back and took a deep breath. His gaze toward the floor told Matthew that whoever just called told Robby bad news.
Matthew glared at Robby. “Well, is it Anna Conda?”
“Negative. Male, Jody Pasteur.”
“Oh, shit, I guess I found her.”
“Excuse your language, have respect for the dead.”
A buzzer sounded which jolted Matthew.
A red light over the door strobed.
“We have another incoming. You better leave, you don’t want to be here when this one arrives.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Matthew bolted for the door.
Robby meandered to the cold storage area, stepped in and rolled out another stainless steel autopsy table. The medics rolled in a black body bag on a gurney. “I’ll take it from here.”
After the medics left, Robby unzipped the body bag finding blood covering Miranda’s face and lips. He put on a pair of rubber surgical gloves, opened the victim’s mouth as he grimaced in pain examining her mouth. “My, my, he got your tongue too. Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll take care of you. You’re in a safe place now.” He rubbed his jaw and popped it.
***
Matthew dreaded the moment he had to inform Ima Star he found Anna Conda. Pull yourself together. Coming here will help things. He stepped out of his Taurus and headed toward the park bench. Blaze jogged along the path as he pulled out his wallet and looked at Livia’s picture.
Blaze jogged closer toward him, he studied her and glanced back at the picture. He blocked Blaze’s path as she approached. “It's dangerous to jog alone.”
“Excuse me.” Blaze jogged in place.
“You're alone and female, haven't you heard? There's a serial killer stalking for his next victim.”
Blaze pushed past Matthew and continued her jog.
“Wait! Please listen!”
Blaze glanced over her shoulder. “Freak.” She increased her pace. He could be the serial killer.
“I’m only trying to protect you. Stop, let me show you.”
Blaze increased her speed. He better not come after me.
***
Milo hid between two cars observing Roth who stepped from his van, tied Sam to the side mirror and filled the dog’s water bowl.
“Have a great day Sam.” Roth headed across the street to Perks.
Milo crept to Sam and fed him a laced doggie treat. “Good dog.” He watched Roth enter the coffee shop. As soon as the door closed, Milo snuck to the back of Perks and waited. That freckle face will take out the trash or indulge himself in a break.
CHAPTER 39
Daddy Dearest
Liz sped off in her red Jaguar toward FBI headquarters. The radio amplified as she listened to the news. “Warden Stronghold, of Angola State Penitentiary, has confirmed that Milo Evans, who was convicted of murder in the deaths of several co-eds five years ago, had no outside help to escape. During Evans’ trial, the prosecution tied Evans to Red Lettenberg, the Mind’s Eye serial killer.”
An oncoming car swerved into Liz’s lane. “You son of a bitch.” She gripped the wheel like a professional race car driver. Her body tensed as she maintained skid control of her jag. Her life flashed before her eyes as the jag spun in circles and stopped short of the electric pole.
Liz slammed her fist against the dashboard and pulled off to the side of the road. She kept her grip on the steering wheel and rested her forehead on it.
“Immediately following Lettenberg’s conviction, his only surviving daughter was placed into the witness protection program. No one has seen or heard from her. Rettenberg is scheduled to be executed on May the twenty-seventh. In other news, renowned forensic psychologist, Dr. Elizabeth Wright has been brought in by the FBI to consult on the capture of Milo Evans.” Liz opened the door and spewed vomit before she proceeded to FBI headquarters.
***
Janice stormed into her husband’s campaign headquarters. “Clear the room.” Her tone commanded a response. She fixed a superior sneer toward her husband.
Meagan placed her hands on her hips. “Ms. Bennett, what can I do for you?” Her eyes squinted suspiciously at her.
“I thought I made myself clear when I entered. I need to speak to my husband, alone.”
Congressman Thompson winked at Meagan. “It’s all right. This is an appropriate time to run that errand we discussed earlier.”
“What errand? I’m confused.”
“Meagan give us the room, please.”
“Yes sir. I’m leaving to run an errand that doesn’t exist.” She glared at Janice. “How long should this non-existent errand take me?”
“Give us thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes it is.” Meagan grabbed her purse and took her leave in a huff. I don’t have time for their games.
“You really have nerve.” Janice’s voice seethed in anger. “Are you trying to get caught?”
“As if you really care.”
“Oh, I care. Your escapades will get you in hot water and dethroned darling. Then what? Do you honestly think if you’re caught in a scandalous affair you’ll get elected to the White House?”
“I’m very careful.” A grin of irony tipped his lips.
“Really. You can stand there straight faced and tell me that? I know about Lux Gold and Roxy Starlite. Hell, I can list them all. I’m warning you, cut this bullshit and keep your dick in your pants. Masturbate if you have to, but no more fucking around.”
***
A cool draft spread through Red’s cell. I know you’re here. I can sense you. He sat on the edge of the bed and scripted a letter to Liz.
He placed the pen on the desk, folded the letter and stuffed it inside the government issued white envelope and licked the glue flap. If you don’t have my DNA on file, you do now. He extended his arms mimicking Jesus Christ nailed to the cross. I’ll never leave you alone.
***
Liz pulled into the parking lot of the FBI headquarters as news reporters rushed toward her. Here comes the circus.
Liz parked her car between two broadcast trucks. As she vacated her vehicle, news reporters and their camera operators bombarded her with dozens of questions.
The Keystroke Killer Page 32