Fettering Shadows: A Jake Dalton Investigation

by Amy Shannon

  He walked into the kitchen, prepared and turned on the coffeepot, and headed toward the living room. He put on his cowboy boots, where he had taken then off last night. He turned on the television and changed the channel to the local morning news. He walked back in the kitchen for his coffee and returned to the sofa, where he watched the news for the half hour.

  Heading out the door, he put on his black suede long overcoat, and carefully put his Stetson on his slicked back hair. He headed out the door, as he put his keys in his pocket.

  The bakery was only down the street from his office, and he stopped in there every morning for a donut or bagel. Today, he decided to grab six bagels and the side of cream cheese. The bagels were always the everything bagels, soft and chewy. His favorite kind.

  He headed for his office, and noticed Dr. Constantine standing outside. “Doc, you all right?” He unlocked the front door, leading her inside.

  5

  Jake turned on the one overhead light and then the desk light. He held the chair for Aggie, as she sat down. “I thought we were fixin’ to meet this afternoon. Is there a problem?”

  “He’s killing for me,” she sighed, moving her chair slightly at an angle so she could face both Jake, and the door. “I mean, he’s killing them so he doesn’t haveta kill me.”

  Jake sat on the edge of his desk, patted his chest, and removed his cigars. He pulled out one slim cigar and used his lighter. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “They’re your lungs,” she smiled lightly. “No, sorry. It’s fine.”

  “I only smoke here at the office, and only these cigars, and only five a day. Oh, sorry,” he sighed, knowing he was giving away too much information. He never did that, but for some reason, he felt he had to share with Aggie and elaborate on anything he told her. Goddammit! Stop it, Jake. What the hell is wrong with you? She’s here about herself, not you.

  Aggie leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs. Jake finally noticed that she was wearing a black skirt with white blouse. He noticed her long, sexy bare legs, but he had to focus on her. Her eyes. Her bright blue eyes, nothing could compare to those pools of sky gazing back at him. “It’s fine. I’m sorry to come here, I’m sure you have a routine or somethin’.”

  “I was just gonna put on some coffee,” he placed the cigar on his lips and inhaled lightly.

  “Sounds good. I could use a cup,” she smiled.

  “With or without Whiskey?” he walked over to the table that had the coffeemaker, two ceramic coffee mugs, powdered creamer, sugar packets, plastic spoons and a pile of coffee-cup-sized styrofoam cups. He turned on the coffee maker and waited for it to make a full pot.

  “Whiskey, this early?”

  “Not for me, but I always offer it. Ya never know who might want some. I do save the Jameson for myself and special visitors, but I’ve got some Kentucky Whiskey, dark or light,” he spoke as his cigar hung gracefully from his lips.

  “I’m good, but maybe later,” she smiled. “I do like Whiskey.”

  “Hmm,” he smiled as he poured them both a mug of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

  “Cream, only, thanks.”

  He spooned the creamer into both mugs, and then handed her one of the mugs. “It’s either these mugs or paper cups.”

  She smiled at the silver five-pointed Lone star, surrounded by the wheel, painted on the mug. “Texas Rangers, huh?”

  “Uh huh, I brought these with me when I left. I never forget who I used to be, but I like who I am now.”

  “I liked myself before I had a stalker.”

  “How long have you had this one?” he sat behind his desk, putting out his cigar in the filled ashtray and then sipped his hot coffee.

  “At least eight years that I know of,” she sipped her coffee. “It’s when he first made contact with me, at least directly. I don’t know who he is or what he looks like. He’s the ultimate shadow, I guess.”

  “So, you’ve never seen him?”

  “I’ve seen him, I guess,” she shrugged. “I guess I better explain better.”

  Jake sipped his coffee. “Take your time. It must be hard on you.”

  “It is, and it’s not. I mean, I hate having a shadow, but I’ve gotten so used it, it seems to be part of me. I do things that are now second nature, such as being completely aware of my surroundings.”

  “That’s why you always move your chair slightly?”

  “I don’t like my back facing anywhere someone can come up behind me. If somethin’ is comin’ at me, I wanna see it, and not be surprised.”

  “I’ll make sure to remember that,” he nodded. “So, if you’ve never seen him, how do you know him?”

  “He’s the stalker that likes me to know he’s there, without me knowing he's there. It started out as emails. Simple emails that I thought at first were junk or spam. The email address was from one of those free email sites. He used the moniker yourprivatelover. He used several of these monikers for different email sites. He would just send a note stating that I was his. Or proof that he was watching me, like where I was that day, what I bought, or who I had lunch with. Sometimes he send me photos of myself at work, when I worked at the hospital. He even knew who I was when I was coming out of the OR, and still had the mask on my face. I don’t know how he got photos from private or secured areas of the hospital.”

  “Is it always email?”

  “It was at first, then printed letters at home. Sometimes I would find an envelope in my purse or doctor’s bag. I hired PIs and talked to police officers but there was nothing they could do. No one knows who this guy is. He knows things about my past. He knows too much of my personal life, and I don’t know if I know anything about him.”

  “Do you still have the letters or emails?”

  “Yes, I saved everything. I printed out all the emails and made copies of the printed letters, when I gave some to the cops. After a while, I stopped going to the police. I think I’ve seen him, I mean there were many times when I noticed a man, dressed in a black hoodie, black slacks, gloves, and dark sunglasses, on the same street or in my neighborhood before I moved. He always had a bag he carried over his shoulder.”

  “The photos, could you tell if they were from a camera or a cell phone?”

  “I reckon they were from developed film, and then scanned in to send electronically.”

  “How do ya know?”

  “I’ve done amateur photography before. Well, before I moved here. I used both digital and film cameras. I reckon this guy has a preference. He also seems to have some patience. I’m surprised after all these years he’s never touched me.”

  “That you know of,” Jake sighed.

  “Don’t you think I’d know if he touched me?”

  “Maybe all he needs from you is to bump into you on the street, or get close ‘nuff to drop an envelope in your bag. If he’s killing other women and turning them into you, he doesn’t have that need yet to come straight for you.”

  “You think he’s turning them into me? Oh, the tattoo?”

  “It’s drawn on with pen ink. Doc, I’ve got some experience with serial killers and profiling them. I don’t know everything and I’m not as good as the profilers that work for the Feds, but I’ve taken the courses the FBI gives, and I’ve met with different Agents of Behavioral Science Unit. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at the letters and photos he took of you, unless there are some you don’t want me to see.”

  “That’s fine,” she sighed. “I was sorry to show up this early,” she stood up, walked over to the coffee pot, and grabbed the pot. She poured herself a cup of coffee and then walked over to Jake and refilled his cup. “There was another body this morning, and the police chief asked me to store the body for a day or so before starting the autopsy. I thought that was strange, but he wanted your uh friend to look at the body first. I thought you were on this case, too.”

  “I’m helping Sully and I work for you. The chief and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, ever since, well, I was hired
by his daughter-in-law to catch his son cheating on her. They got a divorce, and the Chief does not deal with me.”

  “Well, I’d like for you to look at the body, if you think that will help. You can take your own photos. The difference between this one this morning and the others, is that there is wax and hair on this torso, and there is more skin tissue around the neck area.”

  “More skin?” he stood up and walked over to the table, adding more cream into his coffee.

  “I reckon the head removal was higher up on the neck than the others.”

  “You never saw the bodies with the wax or hair?”

  “No, wax and hair?” she raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s why he was called Icarus, because of the wax on the back. The girls own hair was mixed in with the wax. It kind of resembled wings. Someone must’ve removed the wax and hair before it was on your table. That surprises me.”

  “Not me,” she sighed. “If they don’t want people to know we have a serial killer, they would remove things that would indicate someone with a signature. Were those details ever released to the public in Austin?”

  “The wax, but not hair and not inked tattoos of caduceus,” he stirred the spoon around in his mug, and then sipped it. “Doc, can you take me to the morgue?”

  “Of course,” she sighed. “If you want, why don’t you join me for supper at my home, and I can show you the letters and photos.”

  “Oh, uh, I guess that would be fine.”

  “I’m sure they’ll miss you at the diner, but I can make beef, too,” she grinned. “I’ll throw some steaks on the grill.”

  “Sounds just fine,” he smiled. “I’ll meet you at the morgue?”

  “Yes,” she smiled, setting her mug on the desk. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she left out the door.

  Jake chugged down his hot coffee and then grabbed Aggie’s mug and headed into the bathroom to wash them out. He cleaned out the coffee pot and set it up for whenever he returned. He unlocked the top drawer of his desk, and pulled out his holster and 9-millimeter Glock-17 handgun. He attached it to his belt, and then put on his Stetson and overcoat. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out his black leather go-bag, which contained his cameras, cell phone, chargers, pens, PI creds, a bottle of water, bag of ginger snaps, and blank notebooks. He reached into the bag, turned on the cell phone, and tossed it back in the bag. He patted his shirt pocket, confirming his cigars and gold pen were where they were supposed to be.

  He headed out of the office and locked the door behind him. He headed to his driveway as he pulled out the keys that were in his overcoat pocket. He unlocked the door to his black and silver, Dodge pick-up truck, tossing his go-bag on the front seat. He started the truck, and pulled out of the driveway, heading the four miles out of town to the county morgue.

  6

  Jake draped his go-bag over his shoulder as he got out of his truck. He locked up and looked around the empty parking lot. He wasn’t even sure if Dr. Constantine was here, since no other cars were in the parking lot. He walked toward the sidewalk that led to the main entrance of the County Building that contained many different offices, including the morgue on the basement level floor, when he turned around quickly.

  The squad car, flashing its red and blue lights, pulled into the parking lot, parallel to the sidewalk where Jake was standing. He crossed his arms as Chief Lutz, got out of the car. “What’re you doin’ here, Dalton?” he stormed over to the man.

  “Don’t get all chiefy with me, Sir,” Jake snapped. “I’m here for a client.”

  “A client? I know you’re trying to take over Ranger Sullivan’s case.”

  “Then, you don’t know crap ‘bout what I’m doin’,” he sighed.

  The Chief stepped back and walked over to the bench that was resting against a flowerbed. “You know, Dalton, I don’t really like you,” he muttered.

  Jake walked over to him. “The feelin’s mutual, but?”

  “But?”

  “I’m guessing there’s a but, and it’s not me.” Jake sat next to him on the bench. “However, it just may be you.”

  “These poor friggin’ girls,” Lutz sighed, dramatically.

  “This ain’t my first rodeo, ya know. I worked the similar case when I was a Ranger. Sully just dropped it on my desk the other day, I guess there are more bodies, and you’re not telling anyone. You’re not warning the public. There’s about 3000 people in this small town, and they’re startin’ to die. No, they’re bein’ murdered.”

  “I don’t even know who to warn. I know there should be some profile, and I don’t really wanna bring in the feds. I ran the MO and signature through ViCap and your former partner showed up on my doorstep. Now, he wants to bring in you to help him?”

  “He wants me to work on the case, here, and I guess he’s gonna head back to Austin and start reworking the old cases.”

  “How many girls dead the last time?”

  “Fourteen that we know of, that we found, but there could be more, and that was in the span of about five years. I know he’s here, and we’re thinkin’ it’s whom we call Icarus, but there is a few years where there were no bodies. It should be run to see if he was elsewhere for a while.”

  “I can do that,” Lutz said. “Listen, we both wanna catch this guy before more dead girls show up.”

  “I’m fixin’ to work my angle, you work yours. You should review the profile of Icarus, though. It may give you some insight as to who to warn. I can’t tell you to do your job, but someone will leak it the press, not me, but someone will and if you don’t get ahead of this, and warn people, more will die.”

  “You know how to do a profile?”

  “There is one done, Sully should have it, and if not, he can get it to you. It may need to be updated with the new deaths. I haveta get in there and meet the M.E.”

  “Yeah, she seems to think her stalker is this guy. I don’t even know if she has a stalker.”

  “Well, I better get in there.” Jake stood up. “Oh, Lutz, people shouldn’t process the body before it’s autopsied. It should be done together.”

  “And you’re the expert?” he growled.

  “Of common sense, uh huh,” he chuckled lightly, and headed into the building. Must’ve gotten hit with a stupid stick when he was younger.

  Lutz stood up and walked over to his car. He put his radio to his mouth, “Yeah, Dispatch, get a twenty on Ranger Sullivan. I need to see him, straight away.”

  “Yes, sir, ten four,” the voice replied.

  Jake walked down the quiet hall to the door labeled Dr. Agatha Constantine, MD. Medical Examiner. County Coroner. He knocked on the door, not knowing if she was in her office or not.

  Aggie opened the door and smiled. “Uh, hi,” she smiled.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were here, I didn’t see any vehicles outside.”

  “Well, I drive a sedan, but it’s parked in the back parking lot. I’m the only one here ‘til noon. I like getting an early start. Coffee?”

  “Uh, I guess,” he said.

  “You made me coffee, now I’m returning the favor.”

  He followed her into the office, setting his go-bag on the floor, as she walked over to the table in the corner of her large office and poured them both a cup of coffee. She added the cream to both cups and then handed Jake his cup. “Thanks, Doc,” he smiled, removing his Stetson.

  She looked into his eyes and smiled, she couldn’t help but smile when looking at his ruggedly handsome looks. He may be self-conscious about his scar, but she wasn’t bothered by it. Except how it made him feel. “Have a seat,” she pointed to the chair in front of her desk.

  He sat down and placed his Stetson in his lap. “Lutz stopped me out front before I came in.”

  She rolled her eyes, as she sat down behind her desk. “I take it I’m not the only one who has issues with Chief Lutz.”

  “How’d ya know?” he sipped his coffee.

  “I hear it in your voice. Anyway, did he ha
ve anything to add to the investigation?”

  “The only thing I learned from Lutz is that he needs to investigate more. At least he has the brains to run the MO in ViCap,” he muttered. “So, Doc, tell me about where these bodies, uh, torsos were found?”

  “I’m not sure of the location. To be honest, where I’m supposed to be called out to crime scenes, do a quick external exam, look for evidence on the body, and then preserve any evidence, for these four torsos, I haven’t been called. I was called once the torsos were already here. They were processed by, I’m guessing, the one CSU technician that works in the lab upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?”

  “This is the county building, but upstairs is a county lab. There are different techs and lab rats, but one specific to crime scenes. Down the hall is the refrigeration area for bodies. There are four different rooms for my work. Did you wanna see the latest torso?”

  “I’d like to look at them all. Well, not like to but ... want to, no, I mean haveta. Is it all right if I take photos and some notes?”

  “Whatever you need. I’ve got the four torsos in the locked room down the hall. Those bodies that are part of open cases are kept here ‘til all investigation has been completed. We’re still running DNA to confirm identity.”

  “Weren’t the IDs with the bodies?” He opened up his go-bag and pulled out a stenopad. He pulled the gold pen out of his pocket that it shared with his cigars, and started writing notes in the pad.