Difficult Run

by John Dibble

  Jake walked up to her, took her aside and said, “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  “I have been,” she said. “The victims are the homeless guy I told you about and the dog I ran with in the park.”

  “Are you going to be OK to deal with this?” he asked.

  “I have to be OK to deal with this,” she answered, “but you back me up and let me know if I’m screwing anything up.”

  M.J. turned to Zerk, who handed her some gloves. “It looks like the dog—her name is Lola—got a bite of whoever did this, so be sure and get some swabs of her teeth,” she said.

  Zerk nodded and went under the tape, carrying his field kit. M.J. walked over to Dodd and asked, “What do you think happened?”

  “An early morning hiker found them and called 911,” Dodd said. “From the looks of it, Doc brought Lola down here to give her a bath in one of the pools in the stream. May have wanted to take a bath himself at the same time. I know he did that from time to time. Always came over at night when nobody was around.”

  “That makes sense. I saw the bottle of shampoo he used for Lola lying on the trail,” M.J. said. “After we finish up here, I need to go up to his camp and look around. I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me.”

  “Sure, M.J.,” he replied. “I’ll be in my office.”

  “Thanks,” she said, pulling on the gloves while ducking under the tape.

  Zerk had already taken several pictures and was kneeling down by Lola. He took a sterile swab from his kit and ran it over the dog’s teeth. “Sure does look like blood,” he said, examining the swab before placing it in an evidence bottle. “Maybe we’ll luck out and get a DNA match.”

  “I sure hope so,” M.J. said, kneeling down next to Zerk. She reached out and gently patted Lola’s side with her gloved hand. “Good work girl,” she said.

  Jake was standing by Doc’s body, examining the items scattered on the trail. His attention was drawn to the flashlight and he used his hand to shield the lens from the sunlight while he bent over it. “The flashlight was on when he was murdered, unless the killer turned it on afterward. The bulb is still glowing,” he said.

  M.J. came over and looked at the flashlight. “I doubt that the killer would turn it on and leave it on,” she said. “More likely that Doc was using it to find his way up the trail.”

  She looked at the other items on the ground. In addition to the dog shampoo there was a bar of soap, a brush and the leash that they used when she and Lola ran together. Doc was fully clothed and his hair appeared damp. His eyes were partially closed and his face bore an almost serene expression.

  Zerk came over and said, “No footprints, of course—same hard-packed gravel surface—and I don’t see any blood there either. I’ll get pictures of everything but I don’t see much in the way of evidence except for the blood on the dog’s teeth.”

  M.J. and Jake moved out of the way so Zerk could take his pictures. The Fairfax County Police came on her radio to let her know that they had already started patrolling the park perimeter. The GW Station came on to tell her that two Park Police cruisers had stationed themselves at each end of the parking lot areas in the main park and two horse-mounted officers had started moving cross country through the surrounding forest.

  Eagle One came on the radio. It was flying up the river over Mather Gorge and the pilot said, “We’ll start looking around to the southwest. Doesn’t look like anybody would even think of trying to go east across the river or down it. It’s almost to the top of the gorge.”

  M.J. thanked the pilot and turned to Jake. “Same drill as before,” she said, “and I don’t think they’ll find anybody this time either.”

  When Zerk had finished, he joined M.J. and Jake and they started walking back toward the parking lot. When they came to the two uniformed officers who were providing crime scene security, M.J. stopped and said, “When the M.E. van comes, I want the dog’s body to go to the morgue with the man’s, understood?” They both nodded.

  At the parking lot, M.J. turned to Jake and Zerk and said, “Gentlemen, it appears that we are now dealing with a serial killer.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  M.J. LEFT JAKE TO MANAGE the crime scene and coordinate with the Fairfax County Police. She drove to the Visitor Center and found Dodd sitting at his desk.

  “This is just awful,” he said. “You’ve got to find out who did this.”

  “I will, Dodd,” she said, “and I may need your help doing it. We can talk about that later. Right now, I need you to come with me to Doc’s camp. I don’t think we’ll find anything, but I have to look around anyway and I need a witness.”

  They left the Visitor Center and cut over to the Old Carriage Road. When they reached the path off the Swamp Trail to Doc’s camp, M.J. almost expected to see Lola at the top of the hill, wagging her tail like she always did. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen now or ever again and that made M.J. profoundly sad, but she forced her feelings into the background for the moment.

  Before they started up the path, M.J. stopped and looked to see if there were any unfamiliar footprints. Seeing none, she led the way up to the clearing.

  She reached into her pocket and took out two pairs of latex gloves. She pulled on one pair and handed the other pair to Dodd and said, “Here, you’ll need to put these on.”

  She surveyed the scene outside the tent, looking for anything unusual. There was nothing out of place. The two chairs were under the tent awning with the little table where Doc placed his book and coffee cup in between. There were two bowls outside the tent door for Lola’s food and water, and the makeshift shelf had the usual items on it, except for those she had seen at the scene of the murder. The stove where Doc made coffee and heated food was just outside the awning.

  They went inside the tent. She had never been in there before, but it was much as she had imagined it. There was a folding cot where Doc slept and a blanket folded and laid on the tent floor next to the cot for Lola. Hanging over the cot was a battery powered lantern, which appeared to be the only source of interior illumination. There was a small kerosene space heater and a bookcase fashioned from unfinished boards. On its top shelf was a picture of an elderly couple, who M.J. assumed were Doc’s parents.

  The other shelves contained books from the library in Great Falls Village, Alcoholics Anonymous Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, some writing paper, and a tin can full of pencils. There were makeshift hooks along the sidewall of the tent. Some of Doc’s clothes were hanging there and on one hook was the scarf that M.J. had presented to Lola. She found the rest of Doc’s clothes in a large rucksack propped against the foot of the cot. There were two cardboard storage boxes full of papers in the corner.

  “Let’s take these back to your office,” she said, pointing to the boxes. “I think I’ve seen everything I need to see here.”

  “I’ll have the rangers come up later and break down the camp,” Dodd said. “I guess we can give a lot of this stuff to charity.”

  “I think Doc would have liked that,” M.J. said, removing Lola’s scarf from its hook and placing it in her pocket.

  They each carried one of the boxes back to the Visitor Center. There was a small conference room adjacent to Dodd’s office. “We can just work in here,” he said.

  “You go through your box and I’ll go through this one,” she said. “Keep your gloves on, please.”

  M.J. opened the box and took out several bundles of letters from Doc’s parents. She didn’t read them, feeling that they were too personal and had no possible bearing on the investigation. There were also several stacks of pictures. Some were of Doc and his parents; in none of them were there any other children. There were also some pictures of Doc in the Navy, including several that appeared to have been taken in Vietnam. It was the same Doc she knew, but forty-plus years younger. He was, she thought, a handsome and obviously serious young man.

  M.J. looked up. Dodd was reading something in a blue, leather-bound folder. On the table
in front of him was an open box about the size of a wallet, covered in the same blue leather material.

  “M.J.,” he said, “look at this.”

  She got up and walked to the end of the conference table where Dodd was sitting. The box contained a medal with an attached dark blue ribbon that had a white stripe down the middle.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “This is the Navy Cross. It’s the second highest decoration that can be awarded for valor. Here, read this,” he said, handing her the blue folder.

  She read the words:

  The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the Navy Cross to Thomas Wonders, Hospital Corpsman Second Class, United States Navy, for extraordinary heroism while serving with the Second Battalion, Fifth Marines, First Marine Division, Fleet Marine Force, Quang Tin Province, Republic of Vietnam on June 2, 1967. . .

  It went on to relate how Doc had crawled onto a battlefield to treat several wounded Marines, helped drag two of them back to safety and had been wounded several times himself in the process. He had then gone back to treat more wounded and exposed himself to even more enemy fire.

  The citation ended with: By his outstanding courage and exceptional fortitude, Corpsman Wonders served to inspire all who observed him and upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

  “He never said anything about this,” M.J. said.

  “I don’t think Doc was the type to tell war stories or brag about his experiences,” Dodd said. “I’ll tell you this much, though: Whoever killed him murdered a real hero.”

  “That’s just one more reason to catch the son of a bitch,” M.J. said. “Let’s finish going through these boxes.”

  When they had finished, M.J. turned to Dodd and said, “If it’s OK, I’d like to keep these here for the time being. Now, let’s talk about finding out who did this. I think we’re dealing with somebody who may have killed at least once before the boys’ murders. I’ve already checked Fairfax County records and the National Crimes Database for similar murders, but haven’t found anything. I have a hunch that there may have been previous murders that looked like accidents or unexplained disappearances, meaning they were never reported as homicides. You have log books that would show incidents in the park, right?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “They go all the way back to 1966 when it first became part of the national park system. Before that, it was owned by Fairfax County and before that it was privately owned. Of course, we have a lot of accidents every year. Like I told you, there are anywhere from eight to a dozen drownings on average, then there are people falling off the rocks and things like that.”

  “I’m looking for deaths or disappearances under questionable circumstances,” M.J. said. “For now, I’d like to concentrate on any that may have occurred on Difficult Run in the five years before the boys were murdered. If you can start searching the logs, I’m going to check with Fairfax County about any reports they may have received.”

  “That would be a good idea,” Dodd replied. “A lot of times the county gets the call and does the investigation and we never hear about it.”

  M.J. helped Dodd bring stacks of log books from the shelves in his office to the conference room table. She paged through one of them and saw multiple entries for each day which covered everything from the number of visitors to the water level in the river. Occasionally, there would be an entry noting some sort of accident, everything from twisted ankles to burns from a grill in the picnic area. She estimated that there were several hundred such entries in any given year.

  “I appreciate you doing this,” she said. “I’m going to go start on the Fairfax County records, but I’ll be back later this afternoon.”

  “Glad to help in any way I can, M.J. I’ll be here when you get back,” Dodd said.

  As M.J. was walking to her car, Jake called on the radio. Eagle One had left after about an hour without finding anything. Same for the Fairfax County patrols along the perimeter roads and the two horse-mounted Park Police officers. The van from the M.E. had arrived a short time ago and was loading the bodies of Doc and Lola.

  She took out her cell phone and called Ted Sommers at Fairfax County Police. “Hello, Ted. This is M.J. from the Park Police. I need another favor. I’m looking for any suspicious incidents at Great Falls Park going back several years. Strange accidents, missing persons, that sort of thing,” she said.

  “Best place to go is our Central Records Division. Head of it is Becky Whitmer. I’ll call and let her know you’ll be stopping by. It’s right across from the parking garage,” he said. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the most recent murder in the park. Heard about it this morning on our radio traffic.”

  “Your guess is right. This appears to have been the same killer and I’m thinking there may have been an earlier homicide that didn’t look like a homicide,” she replied.

  “Sounds like a good theory, but you may be hard pressed to find enough detail in any reports to give you anything to go on,” he said.

  “I know, but even some kind of pattern would be helpful,” she said.

  “Gotcha. Let me know if you need anything else,” Ted said.

  Becky Whitmer was standing behind a counter when M.J. entered the building that housed the Central Records Division. She was around forty with dark hair that she wore up in a bun. She didn’t wear much makeup and her wire-rimmed glasses gave her the look of a librarian. Fitting, M.J. thought, since she kept track of volumes of police records.

  “You must be Detective Powers,” she said.

  “Please call me M.J.,” M.J. said, holding out her hand.

  “Good to meet you M.J. I’m Becky,” she said, shaking M.J.’s hand. “Ted Sommers called and said you’d be stopping by. What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “Well, missing persons, unexplained accidents, things like that in Great Falls Park,” M.J. replied.

  “We can probably help with the missing persons. Those reports get filed with us. Accidents—except car accidents, of course—don’t always get reported to us unless there is some suspicion of criminal activity. They most likely are reported to Fire and Rescue and they keep their own records,” Becky explained. “They put in an updated database system a little over a year ago and we can access it from here.”

  “Great,” M.J. said. “Let’s start with your system.”

  Becky sat down at a computer, pressed a few keys and a data entry screen came up. “How far back do you want to go?” she asked.

  “Let’s start with April 2000 and see what we find,” M.J. replied.

  Becky entered the information for the date range. There was a pull-down menu with different types of incident reports. She highlighted “Missing Person.”

  “Now the database doesn’t list the park separately, so I’m just going to select Great Falls as the location,” Becky said and pressed “Enter.” Four reference lines appeared on the screen.

  “Now you can highlight each of these and pull up an image of the report that was filed,” Becky said. “If you want to print the report, just click on that box and it will come out on the printer over there in the corner. When you’re finished with our system, just let me know and I’ll tie you into the Fire and Rescue database.”

  M.J. highlighted the first entry and brought up the report. It was for a missing teenager from Great Falls who had been found the next day. The next entry was for a man who had disappeared in Great Falls Park in late April 2001. She pulled up the report.

  The man, James “Jimmy” Ferguson of Vienna, Virginia, had had an argument with his wife and left in their car, which was found the next morning in the parking lot for Difficult Run. Fairfax County officers had searched the trail in the park and found an empty bottle of Jim Beam whiskey and a flashlight, but no Jimmy. The case was marked as open. She printed a copy of the report.

  The next entry was for the elderly parent of a Great Falls resident who suffered from Alzheimer’s and had wandered off d
uring the night, but was found within a few hours.

  The last entry was for another incident at Difficult Run in early May 2003. A young couple, Kenneth Young and Melissa Hampton, both in their twenties, had gone to Difficult Run at night for a romantic tryst. Melissa had become angered and left to go back to her car in the parking lot, where she fell asleep, apparently suffering from the effects of alcohol. When she awoke in the morning, her boyfriend had not returned and she walked back down the trail to find him. The blanket they had been lying on was still there, as were two empty wine bottles and the flashlight they had used the night before. Her boyfriend, however, was nowhere in sight. She returned to the parking lot and called 911.

  There was a supplemental report dated in late May which reported that a body, identified as that of Kenneth Young, had been found floating in the Potomac south of Washington. It was presumed that he had fallen into Difficult Run stream and been swept away. M.J. printed the reports.

  M.J. found Becky and had her bring up the Fire and Rescue database, which was similar to that of the police, but had a separate location for Great Falls Park. She entered the same date range and highlighted “Accident” in the pull-down menu. Close to a hundred entries appeared.

  M.J. sighed. “This may take a while,” she said.

  The majority of the entries were for river rescues by the Volunteer Fire and Rescue unit from Great Falls Village, which had two powerful boats for that purpose. There were also several entries for medical emergencies in the park.

  About halfway down the list, she found an entry for an accidental death on Difficult Run. A local amateur ornithologist—a “birder”, as they’re called—named Dewey McGarrity had gone there at night in early April 2004 to look for an owl species that he believed inhabited that part of the forest. An early morning hiker had found his body between some rocks below the trail. His camera, infrared flash and flashlight were lying on the trail. The EMS personnel from Great Falls Fire and Rescue responded to the hiker’s 911 call and determined at the scene that McGarrity’s neck was broken, presumably from the fall. There was no further investigation of the incident. M.J. printed the report.