by Alec Peche
She took a moment to smile and invisibly pat herself on the back. It had taken five murders for the authorities to realize that something unusual was going on. She watched the press conference multiple times and took notes on what the authorities said so she could decide what they knew about her. She also wanted to think about that plea to the public for their help. She could call the listed telephone number and plant all kinds of false clues. She also needed to cancel her date at a bar with victim number six and think of a new scheme. She really thought she was doing her fellow women a favor by knocking off the worst of the dating world.
She grabbed a beer out of her refrigerator and went outside to think. It was warm and quiet. The campsite where she parked her RV wasn’t busy mid-week. There wasn’t a lot of ambient light, which gave her the chance to glance at the stars. When she’d been stuck in the brig for so many years, it was glancing at the night sky that she missed most. It was also why she chose to buy an RV rather than rent an apartment. She could live away from people in the great outdoors yet use her satellite connection to earn income.
She wondered if the military was looking for her. She’d never shown up for any parole meeting, never wanted to be in contact with the military ever again. What did they care if she didn’t show up for parole meetings? She decided they weren’t looking for her. The FBI was concerning, though. She didn’t want them searching for her as she thought they probably had more tools than the military to find someone like her.
She looked down at the list of information they had about her. She wondered if that was all they knew or were they holding back additional information. Had they figured out how she was killing her victims? They knew all the victims used the Matefinder website. Did they think the dating app was a coincidence, or did they know it was the source of her victims? Maybe she should find another dating website and keep up the same process. The question was, how many men caught the news of the Burnt Widow? She smiled at that. She rather liked the nickname they gave her.
She could also head north to Oregon and start over with the same process, although she had to think that with the FBI involved, they would be watching for that. She looked over at the fire pit that was powered by propane gas. She could spend hours staring into the pit’s flames, but it was too warm a night to light it.
As she sat staring at the stars, she made up her mind about what to do. She liked her current mission as she learned to call it from the military. Tomorrow she would pack up and head south. She needed to get lost in California's big cities as she would be much harder to detect. She thought she was working under the radar screen by sticking to the smaller eastern cities of the Golden State, but now she could see that someone had been alerted by the similarities among her victims.
She would switch dating sites, but she liked the helium balloon method for killing. Actually, she would stay off the dating sites and just pick up random men from bars. She didn’t need a dating app to find these men. They were easy enough to find by just focusing on bars. Not only did she have an industrial tank of helium, but Amanda also had a miniature tank with a mask that she carried in her backpack. That way, once her victim passed out from the lack of oxygen, she would hold a mask over their face with more helium to make sure they were dead. It was a very gentle way to die, and she was proud of thinking about it. A search of her RV would find both tanks and the mask, likely with DNA evidence of her victims. She would get a new mask and melt the current one as soon as she started another fire.
Maybe she should get some metal so she could pretend to be a sculpture artist, and thus, that was her excuse for having the helium tanks. It was best to cover her bases any way she could. Then another idea came to mind. She could solve two problems with one solution and disrupt the investigation. She was excited by her idea and returned to the RV to start digging on her laptop. An hour later, she had a new plan to execute on her way south.
Chapter 24
Jill was having dinner with Nathan at the same time that Amanda Moore was completing the work of her day job. Both women’s minds were hard at work. One was trying to find Amanda, while the other was trying to hide her actions from law enforcement.
“You looked great on television today. Serious, smart, and sexy. You reminded me of some extremely competent medical examiner from a TV sitcom.”
“Thanks, Sweetie. That’s music to my ears, especially the serious and smart attributes. I want the public to be concerned and worried, but I want them to feel like we are doing everything possible to find this killer. We didn’t release all the information we have on the Burnt Widow, but in holding something back, I also hope we didn’t look like we were bumbling through the investigation.”
“I’m biased about the case as I know more about it than the average citizen. However, my assistant Lily watched the news, and she said, “They were lucky to have you on the case.” So there you have it—a spontaneous reaction from your average citizen.”
“As though Lily ever has anything bad to say about anyone.”
“True, but she could have said nothing, so take that as a positive sign.”
Jill’s phone beeped with an unusual ringtone. She had set it to notify her with a different sound if Jack sent her an email.
She glanced down and opened his email. He had tried all kinds of techniques to read the numbers just inside the windshield of the white truck in the pictures. He was able to read ten of the seventeen digits. Jill surmised that there was a supercomputer somewhere that could take all the VIN numbers and figure out which were trucks. Of course, the Burnt Widow might repaint her truck, or she might have had it repainted after she registered it. The license plates represented a multitude of states, not just California. She thanked Jack and then reached out to SAC Ortiz. She heard the FBI had a supercomputer that would have to do this calculation—ten of seventeen digits known against 274 million vehicles in the United States. If the Burnt Widow purchased her truck in Mexico, Jill was screwed at figuring out who the owner was. She sent off an email to Leticia and then returned to her conversation with Nathan.
“Let’s move on to a more interesting subject for you. I purchased grape juice from a supplier. It’s the Nero d’Avola grape that I planted and should be able to harvest next year. I played with fermenting in an oak barrel and a bourbon barrel. I also tried double fermenting in a third barrel to make a sparkling red. Let me know what you think,” Jill said, producing three bottles labeled A, B, C. Given the different cork, it was clear which wine was the sparkling wine.
“Are you trying to invent a new wine varietal?” Nathan asked.
“I suppose I am. Bottle C is like a Lambrusco, but it’s made with a different grape.”
“That may be hard to market if no one knows what to compare it to.”
“I’m sure you’ll create a divine label that will sell the wine.”
“Have you tasted any of these wines?”
“No. It’s going to be a surprise to me, too. Hopefully, a pleasant surprise.”
“Wow, I’ve never tasted one of your failures.”
“With any luck tonight, you won’t taste one. Maybe they will all be delicious and perfect.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“No,” Jill said with a laugh. “At least one of these bottles will be a failure and perhaps all three.”
“Okay, I’ve never been on the ground floor of someone’s creation before.”
“If they taste bad, you’ll never want to participate this early again.”
“Ah well, let’s get to it. Let’s start with C as I can’t remember the last time I tasted Lambrusco. I’m expecting carbonated Welch’s grape juice.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be that bad,” Jill said, pouring them both a sample. She laid out some water crackers to cleanse their palates with after tasting each wine.
Both Nathan and Jill held their glasses up to the light and swirled them. Then they took a sniff. Then each took a sip, then Jill drank her entire glass.
“I love bottle
C. It’s fizzy and sweet and tastes like red wine. You will have to make a special label for this varietal. It’s going to sell as well as my Moscato.”
“I guess that means you like your sparkling red.”
“Come on, admit this is better than any Lambrusco that you’ve tasted. Wouldn’t this pair well with a steak?”
“I’m not one to like sparkling wines, but I’ll admit this is good. I think you’ll fill a niche market with this wine. Now you have to come up with an amazing name.”
“How about Nero’s Extravagance? It is a name that fits the Roman emperor Nero. Although. . . he wasn’t a good man, so I probably shouldn’t name a wine after him.”
“If you indeed bottle this, you’re going to have trouble with whatever name you pick. I’ve never quite thought about this problem before. Maybe you can trademark it and become the sole source for it. You’ll need to contact an attorney to understand your intellectual property rights.”
“Wow, that’s a lot to think about. Thank you, I will contact an attorney. So far, you and I are the only two people who have tasted this miracle sparkling wine.”
“Okay, let’s move on to bottle A. I want to see if this wine tastes anything like the Nero d’Avola wines we drank in Sicily.”
Jill poured them each a glass, and they repeated the process.
“Nathan, meet Jill’s failure #1, better known as bottle A. This wine is so full of tannins, I can’t taste most of the flavors this grape is famous for.”
She dumped the remainder of the wine in her glass down the sink. Nathan followed her lead, glad he didn’t have to tell her that her wine was awful.
“Okay, it’s on to bottle B. Will the burned inside of a bourbon barrel make this awful wine any better?”
She opened the bottle and poured them each a sample, and they went through the winetasting regimen.
“Okay, this is a wee bit better. I might be able to work with the fermentation to create a palatable wine.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Your bottle C was so good, why not use all of your grapes for a sparkling wine? It’s either that or you hope that your own grapes taste better than the grape juice you purchased.”
“You have given me a lot to think about. I love the idea of a sparkling red wine, but I have to agree with you that coming up with a proper name will be half the battle. It’s been nice to worry about grapes instead of the Burnt Widow.”
“Your grapes are your future and are a statement as to the mark you’ll make in the wine industry. You’ll catch the Burnt Widow in a few days, and she’ll be someone else’s problem.”
“Speaking of which, here’s an email from SAC Ortiz. They do have a supercomputer in the FBI, and it’s going to work on the possible VIN numbers for the Burnt Widow’s truck. Maybe we’ll know who she is by tomorrow morning. Let’s hope so. She’s been smart so far, and if she caught the news conference today, she might be changing her modus operandi.”
“Did you ever get anything from Matefinder?” Nathan asked.
“No, they claimed they don’t keep a record of who contacts whom on their website. I already searched the victims’ profiles and found no common females by picture or name. I don’t know enough about software to know if what they said was true, but it appears to be a dead end.”
Jill reverted to talking about the possibilities with her new sparkling red wine, and that topic consumed them for the remainder of the night. Jill was woken by a call at three in the morning from SAC Ortiz.
Chapter 25
“Hello, Leticia,” Jill said after checking the caller identification and punching the green button on her phone to connect.
“Sorry to reach you in the middle of the night, but I just received notification that Agent Sanderson died in a house fire about an hour ago.”
That sentence had Jill sitting up in bed as Nathan turned the bedside light on.
“What happened? How can I help?”
“The agent lived alone in a small house in a city called Lincoln about ten miles away from our office in Roseville. The fire department responded to calls from his neighbor that the house was on fire. The fire was too fierce to enter the structure when they arrived, but once the fire was contained, they confirmed a male occupant, who they assume is the owner, Agent Sanderson. His body is on the way to the Sacramento Coroner.”
“Wow, is there a special fire investigator on the scene? One who could link this house fire to wildfires started by the Burnt Widow?”
“We’re sending our own investigators and crime scene experts in addition to whatever city resources investigate the fire.”
“Any sign of anything suspicious?”
“Too early to tell. I’m requesting that you participate in Brandon’s autopsy. You see things that others don’t.”
“I’ll have to check with the Sacramento Coroner’s Office. I’m not their employee, but perhaps they would allow me to observe while their pathologist performs the post-mortem exam. I’ll call and see if I can get an answer.”
“If they give you any grief, I’ll hire you as the FBI’s expert and demand that you be there.”
“Leticia, I used to work in that office, and they have been gracious and cooperative with me personally. They hired me for eighty hours of work for the Burnt Widow case. I don’t expect any barriers from them as his death is so obviously related to the other cases. I’ll let you know what we find.”
“Thank you, Jill. Agent Sanderson is the first agent I’ve lost in the line of duty. I owe him and his family everything possible to find this arsonist.”
“We don’t know the cases are connected yet. Perhaps the house fire was truly accidental.”
“It wasn’t. I’m sure it was the Burnt Widow.”
“Okay, well, let me make some calls to Sacramento and see what I can find out.”
Jill sighed and looked over at Nathan, saying, “Agent Sanderson died in a house fire about an hour ago. He was the lead agent that I’ve been working with the last few days. He made the pitch on camera to call with any details about the Burnt Widow. Crap. Now, SAC Leticia Ortiz wants me to be there for the autopsy. So, I’ve got to call the coroner’s office and see what they’re up to and if they’ll let me observe.”
He nodded and said, “I’m glad you spent the night here, and I think you should continue to stay here at night until she’s caught. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Thanks, no. I’m wide awake now. I’ll go grab some coffee as I make calls. I’ll leave Trixie here, and I’ll probably head out at five.”
Jill looked at her watch and thought about the ninety-minute drive to the medical examiner’s office and the fact that it was now a quarter after three in the morning. She needed to contact Dr. Jennifer Galloway, but she hated waking her. She left Nathan’s bed and went into the living room as there was no sense keeping him awake.
She texted Jennifer, first testing the waters.
Are you awake? It’s Jill.
Of course. I’m called whenever a member of law enforcement is brought here. It’s a big deal and very emotional. I’m sure you remember. What’s up?
Jill thought of the honor guard that formed around any fallen officer and knew how tough it was inside and outside.
I’ll call you.
After the greeting was out of the way, Jill asked, “Would it be possible for me to observe the autopsy for Agent Sanderson?”
“I’ll have to ask the FBI as it’s their agent.”
“SAC Leticia Ortiz called me a few minutes ago to inform me about Agent Sanderson’s death and asked me to perform the autopsy. She’s the Special Agent in Charge for Northern California. I don’t need to perform it. Just observe it.”
“Ah, I wondered how you knew. You have some amazing acquaintances. I thought you might be an insomniac watching the news and figured the death was related to the arsonist.”
“No, I was asleep until the agent called. I’ll text you Leticia’s number to call and verify that they want me there. Should I hit th
e road now? I’m about ninety minutes away, closer to two hours if I take the time to dress and brew some coffee.”
“Yes, leave now. I’ll start the autopsy when you arrive. I’ve not known you ever to lie, but a law enforcement autopsy is fraught with emotions, so I’m going to call your FBI person.”
“Thanks, Jennifer.”
Jill texted Leticia with the information that she would be attending the autopsy for Agent Sanderson and to expect a call from Dr. Jennifer Galloway.
Then she took a quick shower, dressed, grabbed a croissant from Nathan’s kitchen counter and a go-cup of coffee, and she was out the door. She needed to get gas before she hit the freeway, so Jill knew she would be closer to the two hours estimate that she’d given Jennifer.
When she got to the medical examiner’s office, she found the building surrounded by law enforcement officers. Agent Sanderson would be guarded until his burial, as was the tradition. Despite working with him on this case, she knew very little about him. He hadn’t mentioned a wife or children.
To get into the parking lot, she had to wait while a call was made to Jennifer Galloway to approve her presence. She was given permission to park and kept her head down and away from the news media vans lining the street as she entered the building. Just inside the door, she took a minute to gather herself. She thought she had found her balance in the drive thinking about what evidence she would look for during the autopsy, but now she had to take great gulps of air and wipe away tears, and she thought of the agent’s kindness when she was freaking out at the fire scene. She was glad no one was in the stairwell to watch her lose control.
She was thankful she hadn’t put on any make-up as she would have cried it off in the past three minutes. She straightened up and searched and found her stiff upper lip needed for the next two hours. She entered the locker room to change into scrubs and grabbed a protective gown to put over the scrubs. She then entered the autopsy suite and almost lost it again when she saw Leticia Ortiz standing at attention, on guard duty, for Agent Sanderson.