by John Dibble
There were two other men standing next to the table when they entered.
“This is Randy Keating, my assistant principal and Tony Lambert, who coaches our lacrosse team,” Principal Chambers said.
They all shook hands, introduced themselves and sat down. M.J. started the conversation.
“As you know, we are investigating the murders of Steven Marsten and Patrick Hager. We wanted to ask you a few questions and would be interested in anything you might know that would help us,” she said.
“We all knew the boys,” Principal Chambers began. “They were both good students and never got in any trouble here at school.”
“They were both first string on the varsity team from day one,” Coach Lambert added. “Really good players. We won the Virginia State Championship twice with them on the team. Frankly, I don’t know how we’ll be able to replace them for this season.”
“Ever any fights between either of the boys and other students?” Jake asked.
“None,” Assistant Principal Keating said. “If there had been, I would have known about it. School discipline is part of my responsibility. Coach, anything ever happen between them and the other players?”
“Oh, hell no,” Coach Lambert replied. “They were very popular with the other guys. They were co-captains of the team this year and last. The only time I ever saw them get rough with anybody was against opposing players during a game, and that’s just part of the sport.”
“Any drug problems that you’re aware of?” M.J. asked.
“None,” said Keating. “Of course we have drug problems here; most every school does. But these boys didn’t run with that crowd.”
“The parents gave us the names of the boys’ girl friends,” Jake said, sliding the piece of paper across the table. “We’re thinking about interviewing them to see if they might know anything.”
“I thought you might. I already checked and neither of them is here today,” said Keating. “They’re upset, I’m sure. A lot of the kids are. We’ve had to bring in grief counselors from several other schools to help deal with this. I doubt the girls will come back to school until after spring break, which is next week. I can send you their home addresses and phone numbers if you want to reach them there.”
“We’d appreciate that,” M.J. said. “Is there anything else any of you can think of that might help us?”
The three men looked at each other and shook their heads.
“I guess we’d like some information from you, if possible, Detective,” said Principal Chambers. “Can you tell us anything about how the boys were murdered? There hasn’t been much in the papers.”
“That’s intentional,” M.J. replied. “We’re holding back a lot of information while we conduct our investigation. The only thing I’m able to tell you right now is that the boys suffered trauma to their necks and I’d appreciate it if that went no further.”
“Of course,” Principal Chambers replied. “We’ll certainly get in touch with you if we hear anything that might be useful.”
M.J. and Jake shook the men’s hands and M.J. gave them her card. Principal Chambers walked them back to the front entrance. “Thanks for all you’re doing,” he said when they reached the doors.
Jake drove M.J. back to her car in Great Falls Park. As she was getting out, she asked, “Got any plans tonight?”
“None. What did you have in mind? A movie and dinner?” he asked with a smile on his face.
“A late dinner, but instead of a movie I’d like to go for a nice walk,” she replied.
“A walk? Where?” he asked.
“Difficult Run. I’ll pick you up at your place at eight sharp,” she said.
CHAPTER TEN
M.J. PICKED JAKE UP AT EIGHT, as promised. They were both wearing casual clothes and windbreakers to hide their gun belts. It was an unusually warm night for early April; so warm that under other circumstances they might have skipped the windbreakers.
The parking lot for Difficult Run was filled with cars. At first, M.J. wondered about this until she remembered that it was spring break for a lot of the colleges in the area. She suspected that Difficult Run was a popular place to gather and party.
Her suspicions were confirmed when they entered the trail and could hear music and voices. When they rounded the first curve, they saw a large gathering of college-age kids around a bonfire that had been built in a hollow surrounded by high rock walls. To the right, they could hear the sounds of splashing water and uncontrolled laughter and giggling.
“Well, Detective,” Jake said as they walked past the area, “we seem to have several violations of the law going on here. An open fire and the consumption of alcoholic beverages in a national park . . . and I wonder just what is going on down in the stream. I think I should investigate.”
“Bullshit, Jake. You know what’s going on down there. You’re just looking for the chance to see some naked college girls,” M.J. said.
“You know, there are probably naked college boys too,” Jake replied.
“Hmmm . . . tempting, but we’re here for other things. If you feel really strongly about it though, we can call it into Fairfax County on our way out. Let them be the party poopers,” M.J. said.
“You’re no fun,” Jake said. “By the way, just what are we here for?”
“Just keep walking and let me think,” M.J. replied.
Jake knew M.J. well enough to know that meant to shut up. They kept walking, using the small flashlights from their gun belts to illuminate the trail in front of them. There was a quarter moon that provided some illumination in the areas without overhanging trees, but it was generally dark enough to require close attention to the path in front of them. M.J. had been down the trail several times in daylight but not at night. Jake had not been back since the murder investigation started.
After several hundred yards, the sounds from the party died out and the only thing that could be heard was the rushing water in the stream below. A bird with a wingspan of several feet swooped out of a tree and came gliding down the trail just above head level. Jake started when the bird flew over, ducking and instinctively reaching for his gun.
“What the hell was that?” Jake exclaimed.
“Just an owl looking for food,” M.J. replied nonchalantly, continuing on the trail in silence.
They reached the point where the murders had occurred and M.J. stopped, shining her flashlight around the surrounding rocks. She stood there for several minutes, lost in thought.
“Let’s go back to the car,” she said.
A few yards up the trail, she turned to Jake and said, “There was only one killer.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“Think about it,” she said, “he would have come here at night. Probably parked in the lot where we did. He was looking to murder someone, anyone. There were probably people up at the head of the trail, just like there are tonight. That seems to be a very popular place. If there had been more than one killer, they would likely have murdered someone there. Maybe waited until a lot of the people had left, then killed the stragglers. One of them could have blocked the escape route while the other committed the murders.
“I also have a hard time believing that two psychopaths would join up for an evening stroll on this trail in search of victims. For one thing, it doesn’t fit the pattern for that type of killer. They usually work alone. That’s part of the thrill for them. Also, there’s the way the boys were killed. If it was more than one person, the method of choice would have been guns so they could do more damage.”
“Maybe one liked to do the actual killing while the other just liked to watch,” Jake replied.
“Can’t rule that out,” M.J. said. “We’re dealing with some really dark corners of the human mind. But if there was more than one killer, the gathering place up there would still have been more attractive. After all, they couldn’t be sure there was anyone else on the trail that night.
“A lone killer would have bypassed the pa
rty. Too little opportunity; too many witnesses. He would have walked on down the trail, maybe looking for a better victim, maybe just out of frustration. When the boys’ helmet lights appeared at the top of the Ridge Trail, it presented the perfect opportunity. The killer would have had plenty of time to hide. He would figure out that if he killed the first boy and kept the second from riding back up the trail, there would be no witnesses. After that, he could just walk back to the parking lot and leave the way he came.”
“Wouldn’t somebody at the party have seen him arriving or leaving?” Jake asked.
“Maybe, but we just walked by there and no one saw us. I’ll bet they don’t see us when we leave either,” M.J. said.
As predicted, they walked past the hollow without being noticed. When they got back to the car M.J. said, “It just occurred to me that if there were people partying there that night, the boys may have known some of them. Hard to say if they would have stopped to say hello. If there was drinking going on, they probably wouldn’t have. It’s probably worth putting up some posters at Langley and the other schools in the area asking if anyone has any information, though. We can put the TipLine number on the posters and see if anything shakes out.”
“I’ll take care of that tomorrow,” Jake said.
They stopped on the way to Jake’s apartment and picked up some Chinese take-out and a bottle of wine. Jake opened the wine and poured each of them a glass, raising his in a toast.
“Here’s to a great date. Let’s do that again real soon,” he said sarcastically. “By the way, why didn’t you spook when that owl flew over?”
“You’re such a city boy, Jake,” she replied. “I grew up in the hills of West Virginia. We had owls fly over our heads all the time.”
They finished eating and while they were rinsing off their plates, Jake asked, “How about spending the night?”
M.J. turned toward him, gave him a kiss, and said, “Yes, I think I’d like that very much.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
M.J. STOPPED BY HER APARTMENT early the next morning. She showered and changed into her pantsuit, then drove to Anacostia Station where she wrote an interim report on the investigation, carefully omitting any mention of Doc Wonders. She handed it to Detective Sergeant Tony Lauretta.
Tony had spent ten years in the Marine Corps. He had a wife and two children who he saw very little of as a Marine, so he decided it was time for a career change and joined the Park Police. Tony was about five feet eight inches tall with extremely close-cropped hair and built as solidly as anyone M.J. had ever seen. Although he tried to present a gruff manor, he was actually very kind and considerate in dealing with the people who reported to him.
“Glad you’re turning this in, M.J. The Lieutenant has been bugging the hell out of me about whether there’s been any progress in the case,” he said.
“I’ll try and give you updates so he’ll stay off your back,” M.J. said. “By the way, sorry I’ve been missing so many roll calls. I’m spending a lot of time at Great Falls Park on the investigation.”
“That’s OK, M.J.,” he replied. “I’ll let you know if anything important comes up.”
“Thanks, Tony,” M.J. said and left for the park.
She changed into her running clothes and headed for Doc’s campsite. When she reached the bottom of the path, Lola appeared at the top with her leash in her mouth, wagging all over. M.J. went up the path and found Doc sitting under the tent awning in his usual chair.
“Did you teach her to do that?” M.J. asked, pointing to the dog.
Doc raised his open right hand and said, “Honest, she figured it out herself, M.J. You know, ‘whatever Lola wants.’ How about a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, I’ll have a quick one. Seen or heard anything of interest lately?” M.J. asked.
“Not a damn thing,” Doc replied. “How’s your investigation coming?”
“Slowly,” she replied. “We’ve interviewed several people but haven’t gotten any leads so far. It’s early though, so maybe we’ll get a lucky break.”
“Well, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open,” he said.
M.J. finished her coffee and picked up the leash, which Lola had conveniently placed at her feet. “C’mon girl. Let’s do our run,” she said.
They ran the Old Carriage Road to the Ridge Trail, then over the top of the hill to Difficult Run. As they started up Difficult Run, M.J. was struck by the difference in the atmosphere of the place in daylight compared to the night before. In the dark, it had seemed closed in, almost tunnel-like. Now, it was truly beautiful, she thought, with trees in bud and the sound of the stream below punctuated by birds excitedly calling to each other. For so early in the day, there were a considerable number of people on the trail. Mostly hikers and dog walkers; not many runners.
They crossed Georgetown Pike and started back on the Old Carriage Road. When they reached Doc’s camp, M.J. scratched behind Lola’s ears and gave her a treat. She held out the leash and the dog took it, ran to the front of the tent, dropped it and came back for a second treat, looking up at M.J. with wide eyes and a smile. “OK,” M.J. said, “I’ll give you another one this time, but only because you did such a good job of keeping up.”
Doc came around the corner of the tent and said with a smile, “You’re really spoiling my dog, M.J.”
“I know,” she replied. “See you next time.”
The next morning, she parked unobtrusively outside the church where the boys’ funeral was being held and watched the arrival of the mourners. She knew that killers sometimes attended the funerals of their victims for reasons that she found hard to fathom.
The parking lot filled up quickly and the Fairfax County Police started directing traffic to an alternate lot where a shuttle bus had been hastily called into service. By her rough count, around a thousand people came to the funeral, most of them kids from Langley, many of them crying and leaning on each other for support. She watched until they had all either entered the main sanctuary or been diverted to an attached fellowship hall with a closed-circuit television hook-up. She knew this showing of love and support would help the parents of the boys and she felt a twinge of guilt for being there to spy on the crowd. It was, however, part of her job. Unfortunately, she didn’t see anyone who even remotely raised her suspicions.
She continued to run almost every day in the park, both because she enjoyed running and because it was a good way to watch the comings and goings there. She ran at different times of the day and on different trails to make sure she was observing the totality of the park visitors. She also went back to Difficult Run several times at night to observe the activity there.
After several weeks, she knew many of the regulars on the trails, some of whom said “hello” when they saw her. For the most part, the consistent park visitors were either young runners, hikers, people walking their dogs or older people just taking a leisurely walk. There were also the daily visits to Mather Gorge by kayakers and rock climbers.
Before starting her daytime runs, M.J. always stopped by Doc’s camp. She rationalized this in her own mind as being the same as checking in with an informant when doing undercover work, but she knew that she had actually developed a degree of affection for Doc and, of course, Lola, who she always took along on her runs. On several occasions, she had even given them both a ride into town so Doc could pick up his mail and supplies and return library books.
Jake had distributed the TipLine posters to the schools in the area and the case had been added to the Most Wanted List on the Park Police web site. So far, neither had produced any information.
In early May, she and Jake were assigned as backup for a raid by the Narcotics and Vice Unit in the notorious Trinidad section of the District of Columbia. They donned bullet-proof vests and pulled in behind the “jump-outs”, a slang term used by residents for the unmarked cars carrying plainclothes narcotics officers. Their main function was to handcuff and guard some of the dozen or so people arrested until the van arrived to tak
e them to jail.
During the week before Memorial Day, they, along with all uniformed and plainclothes Park Police, were assigned to security on the National Mall and at Arlington National Cemetery for the ceremonies and other events.
Even with these duties and the assignment of other criminal investigations, M.J. was able to go to Great Falls Park every day. She failed to see anyone suspicious, but she kept running and watching.
CHAPTER TWELVE
M.J. WENT RUNNING WITH LOLA on the Tuesday morning after Memorial Day and repeated the routine on Wednesday. She still didn’t see anyone suspicious on the trails.
By Wednesday night, she was tired, troubled and frustrated, and she wanted to go home for a few days. She decided she would leave on Friday afternoon and be in Ronceverte in time for her mother’s home-cooked dinner. That was just what she needed; that and the chance to sit on the front porch and talk to her father about the case.
On Thursday morning, she went to Tony Lauretta and said, “I’d like to take tomorrow afternoon off.”
He looked up from some papers he was reading and said, “Why don’t you just take the whole day off, M.J.? You’ve got lots of leave time and there’s not much going on right now.”
“Afternoon will do,” she said. “I may want to use the half day another time.”
Tony said, “OK. Enjoy your time off.”
When she got back to her desk, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled to the number marked “Home,” pushed the send button and waited. Three rings later her father answered.
“I’ve heard great things about your bed and breakfast,” she said. “Got room for a guest tomorrow around dinner time?”
“I think we do, but I’ll need to let the kitchen know which of our featured specials you’ll be having. I checked the menu and I believe they are fried chicken and meatloaf,” her father replied.
“Hmmm. I think the fried chicken sounds perfect,” M.J. said.