RAINEY DAYS

by Bradshaw, R. E.

  JW had turned out better than Rainey had imagined he would. He was a wild child, rebellious, always taking risks. He and Rainey were never romantically involved or even best friends. They were part of a neighborhood group that kind of watched each other’s backs. She was along on many of his misadventures, from the time they were in elementary school until graduation. None of their misdeeds was serious, more mischievousness than malice was involved, but JW had gotten into some serious trouble in high school.

  Both Rainey and JW had been highly skilled jocks. He played football, basketball and baseball, while she played volleyball, basketball, and fast pitch softball. They of course both played golf, having grown up in the clubhouse, during the summers. JW’s hopes, for a college baseball career, were crushed when he broke his leg in two places, during a snow skiing accident, in January of their senior year. Later that spring, the “misunderstanding” happened.

  Because of his legacy status, his father and his father before him having been members, JW attended fraternity parties, long before he was ever a student at the university. After a hard weekend of drinking with his future frat brothers, JW did not come back to school for several days. Rumors swirled around his involvement in a rape, at a frat party. Rainey had not believed JW would rape anyone. Why would he? He had girls falling all over him since grade school. Usually, all he had to do was ask.

  The details of the event began to emerge, as the days went by, with no word from JW. A college freshman had allegedly been beaten and raped, by someone fitting JW’s description. In fact, everyone was pretty sure it was JW. When Rainey finally saw him days later, she confronted him with what she had heard. That is when he explained it had all been just a “misunderstanding.”

  “I was drunk,” he had said. “She kept coming on to me and insisted that we go upstairs and make out. We had sex and then she said she was going to tell everyone I raped her.”

  JW was so calm, when he said it, that Rainey had found it hard not to believe him.

  He continued, “The doc’s had me on steroids for my leg. I’ve had trouble lately with my temper and I got really angry at this chick. I knew she was just after money. I guess I just lost it and hit her. I didn’t beat her up, like everyone is saying.”

  Rainey had been shocked. She knew JW had a temper, but he had always been such a gentleman around her. She believed, in her heart, it was a onetime thing. Anyway, the whole mess just went away. Money talks and it can also shut people up. Soon everyone found something else to gossip about and the incident turned into a forgotten “misunderstanding.” Rainey had not thought about it in years. She was sure it was something JW wished he could erase from everyone’s memory.

  When Rainey left for Virginia, she and JW lost touch. She kept up with him through her mother, during the infrequent times she talked to her each year, mostly around holidays and birthdays. She knew about him becoming a partner in his father’s law firm and his political career. She had even been invited to his wedding, but work prevented her from attending. That is pretty much what she knew about JW, except what she read in the newspapers about his politics.

  Rainey Googled JW and when the results came up, three images appeared, at the top of the page. One was the standard Representative shot, in front of a blue backdrop, flanked by the national and state flags, with the NC State seal in the background. The next shot showed the handsome politician cutting a ribbon on some property. The last image was of JW and Katie together. Rainey clicked on the image. A page came up showing JW in a tuxedo with his exquisite bride by his side. She wore a simple black evening gown and pearls, but there was nothing simple about the way she looked. Rainey had been right. They were stunning.

  The hyperlinked caption under the picture read, “Representative JW Wilson and wife, Katherine Meyers Wilson (shown here at a Republican fund raiser last year) involved in auto crash. Wife in critical condition. Details on page 2.”

  Rainey clicked the link for more details. An article came up on the screen, dated January fourth, and was accompanied by a picture of a crumpled sedan, the passenger side embedded in a tree. Rainey read the article. It explained how JW and Katie had been coming home from a fundraiser, when a teenager on a bike had come out of nowhere, crossing directly into the car’s path. A popular off road bike trail was located nearby. In an attempt to miss the biker, JW had crashed into a tree. Katie, who was sleeping in the passenger seat, was ejected from the car when, unexplainably, the door had flown open and her seatbelt had come undone. JW had survived with minor injuries from the airbags, but Katie had not fared so well. Along with the bruises and lacerations, she suffered from internal bleeding. She had been six months pregnant and subsequently lost the baby. She remained hospitalized in stable, but critical condition. The teenager had not been found and there were no witnesses. This was the accident JW referred to in Rainey’s office.

  Rainey looked at the picture in the visor again. Wow, she thought, you would never know Katie had gone through such an ordeal, just six months ago. Rainey could understand feelings of loss and the pain of recovery. Katie bore no outward signs of trauma, at least none that Rainey had seen, even in the bathing suit picture. Looking again at the crumpled car, Rainey thought, it was a miracle that anyone survived. It was hard to say, but Katie may have been lucky her seatbelt failed and she was thrown away, from the car.

  Rainey looked away from the picture, because it made her feel queasy thinking of the anguish the Wilson’s had gone through, especially Katie. It was obvious, from watching her interact with her students, that Katie loved children. How cruel it must have been, to lose a baby JW said they had wanted so much. She looked out through rain-streaked windows, at the traffic slowly passing. The glistening, wet roads were black as night. The drizzle kept the foot traffic to a bare minimum. Still Rainey took a hard look at everyone who even came close to matching the stalker’s physical description.

  The rest of the results on the search page were mostly about JW’s politics. He was a rising young star in the Republican Party, a family values candidate, who did not mind giving people a hand up, but he was staunchly against Obama’s handouts. A short biography on his State webpage contained no new information for Rainey. She switched her focus to Katie.

  She typed in the name from the newspaper article, Katherine Meyers Wilson, and hit search. The same pictures from JW’s search popped up on the page. There was a link to her elementary school, a link to an article about the Literacy Center and one concerning the accident. All the other links were redundant or were related to JW. The elementary school link turned out to be a bust, just a picture, so she tried the Literacy Center article. This article contained some personal details about Katie. It turns out that Katie was the former Katherine Anne Meyers, a granddaughter of one of Durham’s tobacco mogul families. She had earned both Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Early Childhood Education. The focus of the article was on the opening of the Center and the fundraising efforts of Mrs. Wilson and her husband. Katie had been instrumental in opening this and two other Literacy Centers, in the triangle area.

  Rainey now had enough information to start a victim’s analysis, which she would discuss later with Mackie. Ernie had packed another cooler, but Rainey wanted something hot, and she had to go to the bathroom. She decided to leave her post, slide over to the Franklin Street, for a hot sandwich and coffee. She would also use the time to cruise the neighborhood a few times, just to take a look. She hoped she would get back before Mackie came looking for her. She thought about calling him, but changed her mind. Rainey did not want Mackie to think she was worried about being alone, after last night. She would not be gone that long, and he would know she was probably just doing surveillance around the area.

  Her cell rang on her way back to the car, after stopping at the closest fast food restaurant. She checked the caller I.D. and seeing Mackie’s name flashing in the window of the phone, she opened it.

  “Hey Mackie, I’m on my way back from a potty break. Can I get you somethi
ng?” She said this while trying to open the car door and balance the coffee, without dropping the hamburger.

  “No, I just stopped for coffee. Finished locking Mr. Beasley up about ten minutes ago.” Mackie answered. “Wanted to let you know I’m on my way.”

  “What took you so long? I thought you had an eye on him two hours ago,” Rainey asked.

  Mackie laughed, “That damn fool tried to run on me. We had to stop by the hospital before we went to the jail.”

  “You didn’t run over another one with your truck, did you?” Rainey teased Mackie.

  “No, this time I let Junior tackle him,” Mackie said, followed by a loud chest rumbling laugh.

  Junior was Mackie’s twenty-two year old nephew. He was as tall as Mackie and built like the defensive end Mackie had been, back in the day. And Junior was bad fast. He worked for his uncle, because he just would not buckle down on the books in high school and missed his chance to play college ball. Mackie rescued him from the streets when he was nineteen and he had been working his way back to football ever since. Junior just was not the college type, so he was training for the arena football league tryouts, next January.

  “He sure does come in handy, doesn’t he,” Rainey said, laughing along with Mackie.

  “Yes, that he does,” Mackie, said through more rumbles of amusement. “See you in a few.”

  “Great, I’ll be back in my parking place in five minutes. I’ve got lots to talk over with you,” she said, finally getting situated in the car. “See ya’.”

  Mackie arrived before Rainey. She passed his parked Escalade. The rain had stopped and the streets were beginning to dry. When she turned the corner, she saw the giant man standing in the street, where she had recently been staked out. In his hand, he was carefully holding, by one corner, what looked like a manila envelope. It appeared to be like the one JW handed her earlier. Mackie turned when he saw Rainey’s car coming. He stepped back up on the sidewalk, so she could pull in and park.

  Rainey popped the lock on the passenger door and the tall man twined his broad body down into the seat. Good thing Rainey kept the seat pushed back, as far as it would go. He shut the door and held out the envelope.

  “I found this in the street, look who it is addressed to,” his tone was ominous.

  Rainey looked at the envelope. She tried to be careful of leaving her prints or smudging possible prints from the suspect. It was unsealed and appeared to have one sheet of folded printer paper inside. She turned it over. On the front, where the address would be, there was only one word typed out in capital block letters, Caroline. Rainey’s heart began to pick up the pace. She carefully removed the piece of paper from inside the envelope. She expected to see a picture fall out, but none did. The plain white sheet of paper appeared to be blank.

  Rainey checked the inside of the envelope again. There was nothing left inside. Mackie peered over her shoulder at the blank sheet of paper.

  “That’s it just a blank sheet of paper?” Mackie commented.

  Rainey took the flashlight from its holder on her waist. She clicked it on and examined the paper closely. She had not seen it at first, but there, in the center of the page, was a single letter, Y.

  Rainey froze. She stared at the letter in disbelief. Then, as a reflex, her eyes darted around her in every direction. Mackie saw her reaction and immediately placed his hand on his hip, where his own Glock rested in its holster.

  “What is it?” he asked, his eyes darting from the paper to his surroundings.

  Rainey looked back down at the paper then turned to Mackie. In words that revealed her deepest fears, she simply said, “He found me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  A little over a year ago, Rainey’s unit was contacted by a detective from the Raleigh area. He was working cases that involved the rape and murder of three women near the Capital, in downtown Raleigh. Due to the nature of the killings, the detective was positive he had a serial murderer on his hands.

  The murders had been linked by the unusual signature of the killer. Each of the women had been a high priced escort, beautiful women who kept company with the rich and powerful men of the capital city. Each of the bodies had been found in Lake Johnston wrapped in contractor trash bags closed with duct tape. The most striking element of the murders was what assured the detective that the same suspect had committed all of the killings. The women had Y-incisions, like the medical examiner used during autopsies, their chests and abdomens sliced open.

  Three more escorts had been reported missing during the same time as the other murders. The detective was sure the bodies of these women would soon surface at the Lake. He called the BAU in hopes that they would assist his department in searching for this killer. Rainey and her colleagues were dispatched to help analyze the crimes and develop an investigative plan to catch the murderer that the press had now dubbed, “The Y-Man Killer.”

  The BAU members evaluated the victims, examined the dumpsites, pored over the initial crime reports, and closely analyzed the Medical Examiner’s report, which included viewing the bodies. The information was compiled and analyzed. Their conclusions helped direct the course of action taken by the investigators. What they found reiterated that the Triangle had a very sick boy on their hands.

  The victims were high-class call girls, the kind of date a rich, lonely man could buy, in any upscale restaurant or hotel bar. Although the women were all beautiful and Caucasian, they were different physical types, one blond and petite, the other two tall and brunette. After talking with friends and associates of the victims, the investigators learned each of the women worked solo and usually took their dates to expensive, nearby hotel rooms. The victims were last seen in different locations. One disappeared from the Mayor’s Club in Chapel Hill, one from the Hampstead Spa in Cary, and the third was last seen at the Fourth Estate Restaurant and Tavern, in Raleigh. No one remembered seeing the victims leave with anyone. The location of the killings was still a mystery.

  The autopsy reports revealed the cause of death as manual strangulation. The bruising on the victims’ necks showed large hands had squeezed the life out of them. The victims’ stomach contents suggested each had last eaten strawberries, chocolate and champagne. This indicated the women had gone willingly with the assailant and shared a last meal, shortly before their deaths.

  At some point, a stun gun was used, leaving burn marks on the victims’ necks. There were no signs of defensive wounds or skin beneath the nails, indications that the women were rendered unconscious. Toxicology reports stated the women were drugged with a sedative given by intramuscular injection commonly used by dentist, before the practice of oral sedatives took its place. These drugs could also be found in a hospital or veterinarian office. The dosage indicated he used just enough to render the victims unconscious while he gained complete control over them and then re-dosed them later. There were ligature marks on the wrists and ankles where the victims were tied and marks, in and around the mouth, indicating a gag had been used.

  The women were beaten; the pre-mortem bruising indicating the killer used his fists, in a fit of rage. The killer probably strangled his victims during the initial rape, but indications were the murderer had sex with the corpses shortly after death. There was no semen recovered from the bodies indicating he used a condom. A few dark head hairs were found, but contained no viable DNA. The Y-incisions were sliced into the victims’ skin postmortem. The depth of the incisions ended just below the skin, leaving the organs undamaged, the skin pulled back, as if the killer were peeking inside. It was the killer’s signature.

  A timeline developed when the approximate time of death had been determined. One of the victims had been killed the previous November, followed by one in December and then another January. The three missing escorts had disappeared in consecutive months starting in February and ending in April. It was assumed the missing women would soon be found to be victims four, five and six. It was May and everyone was waiting to hear of the next missing woman or floa
ting body.

  The summation; they were dealing with a sexual murderer, an organized killer who planned and orchestrated his crimes. The man they were looking for was probably of average to above average intelligence. He was probably the first born or only son of an ambivalent mother and would have had a poor relationship with his father. He would have a poor quality of attachment with other family members as well. The discipline he received as a child would have been inconsistent and he was probably abused physically or sexually during his childhood and or adolescence.

  The suspect would most likely be above average in looks and was probably over six feet tall and well built. He would be socially competent, able to move among people without suspicion. The organized killer would usually be involved in a relationship and live with that person. This suspect would be from the upper class and have disposable money. He would have a car in good condition and have a skilled job. The killer would also need a place to take his victims in order to insure privacy, while he committed his crimes.

  The investigators were told to talk to the escorts and call-girls and give them a physical description of the killer. Female officers were placed undercover in high-end restaurants and hotel bars. Since all the bodies, found so far, had been dumped in Lake Johnston, more than likely tossed off the Advent Ferry Road Bridge dissecting the lake, stakeouts were scheduled in hopes of catching him drop off his next victim. Every single person involved was positive there would be a next victim.

  It was at this time, on May tenth, that Rainey’s father was killed in a drive by shooting, while apprehending a gang banger, who had skipped out on his twenty-five thousand dollar bail. Billy Bell had stepped in front of Junior, when he saw the gun barrel flash, from the open window of the low rider crawling by. Junior was not hit, but Billy Bell took a bullet, straight in the heart and died instantly. Rainey had just eaten breakfast with him the day before. They were both happy she was working so close to home and spent as much time together as possible.