Victim 14

by KJ Kalis

  Dr. Wiley straightened up, cocking his head to the side, “Well, I can tell you these bones have been out in that field for quite a while, probably years by their color. The rain and sun kind of bleaches them and causes them to dull at the same time, just like what you’d see with animal bones. If you’re asking me directly whether I think these marks are the same as the Tifton torso killer, let me show you.”

  Dr. Wiley lumbered over to the piles of papers spread out on the stainless-steel tables. Emily glanced behind her to see Bradley had pulled up a chair and was sitting down, probably resting his leg, she thought.

  Flipping through the pages with his thick fingers, Dr. Wiley pulled up a couple of different examples from earlier bodies, lifting the photographs to the top of the stack, “See this here?” he pointed, leaning over the table. “They look pretty much like the same marks we see on that skeleton over there.” Emily moved out of the way as Dr. Wiley slid down the line and pulled out a few more photographs for her to look at, “We see the same thing here, only this time it’s on the spot where the humerus would have fit into the shoulder joint.” Dr. Wiley stood up, towering over Emily. She knew she wasn’t a petite woman, but Dr. Wiley took being large to a whole new level. He was the size of a modern-day offensive lineman on a football team. “Tools on bones make specific marks. Almost like fingerprints. I’ve shown all of this to the FBI, but they have not been able to make any sense out of it, at least not in a way that leads to a suspect.” Dr. Wiley paused for a second, “But, I’d have no trouble sitting in a court of law saying that the same saw that cut up the remains we just brought in tonight is the same saw that cut up these other people.”

  There was something about the situation that didn’t make any sense, Emily thought. “Why isn’t the FBI here right now? Why are you telling me all this and not them?”

  Dr. Wiley raised his eyebrows and looked at Bradley and then he looked back at her, “The FBI? If you know anything about this case, then you know the FBI has done little or nothing to help the citizens of Tifton except show up, drive around our city at breakneck speed in those fancy SUVs they have, and make a mess over at the local bed-and-breakfast. They might be working the case, but I haven’t seen any results.” Dr. Wiley pulled out a squat metal stool from underneath one of the examining tables and lowered himself down. It was like watching a tree fall, Emily thought. Dr. Wiley continued, “Realistically, they make a good show of it, but they haven’t gotten anywhere. I was hoping maybe this new agent — what’s his name?” Dr. Wiley frowned, looking at Bradley.

  Emily interrupted, “Cash Strickland?”

  Dr. Wiley nodded, “Yeah, Strickland. I thought he might make some progress on the case, but I haven’t seen anything that tells me he’s been able to. Every time I see him, he tells me he’s met with some sort of special expert in something or another, but it never leads anywhere. At this point, when they find something, me and Buster, we go out and pick up the body, bring it back, and write the report. There’s not a lot more I can do.”

  “Is that why you’re letting me look at this information? I mean, isn’t all of this usually confidential?” Emily asked, leaning against the examination table where Dr. Wiley stood a few minutes before.

  Dr. Wiley nodded, leaning his forearms over on his thighs, “That’s right. Bradley’s a smart guy. Doesn’t let many people see it, but if he’s found you and he says he thinks you can help, well, that’s good enough for me. What other questions do you have? I gotta get back to my farm and go make sure my livestock haven’t floated away.”

  Over the next few minutes, Emily took pictures of the skeletal remains that Dr. Wiley and Buster had brought back in from the field as well as pictures of the reports and images Dr. Wiley laid out on the table. The medical examiner hadn’t moved, staying in the same bent-over position on the stool while she worked. Emily didn’t have the feeling he was being impatient, just waiting. For a moment, she wondered how hard it must’ve been for him over the last seven years, going out to pick up abandoned torsos from the pond, bringing them back to his examination room, trying to give what was left of the body as much dignity as possible. Emily felt a weight descend on her chest, the same weight she realized must have been sitting over Tifton for the last seven years. She realized, shoving her phone into her back pocket, it made sense why Dr. Wiley gave her access to all of the records. They had no hope in the FBI. They had no hope at all.

  * * *

  Back out in the Jeep, the rain rattled on the roof. Emily had more than enough information for Mike. Before driving Bradley home, Emily attached all the images into one large file, running the encryption program Mike had given her and then emailing it to his fake account, one that couldn’t be connected to either his name or Emily’s. Attaching a note asking him to see what he and his tech friends could figure out with the evidence she’d sent, she hoped maybe they would see something that everyone else had missed. Setting her phone down, she looked at Bradley, “Ready?”

  “Yup. I’d be grateful for a ride home in this monsoon.”

  Neither Emily nor Bradley said much in the car on the way back to his house. Emily glanced over at him a few times while she was driving. He seemed quiet, lost in his thoughts. Maybe he was just tired, Emily realized. It’d been a long day. It couldn’t have been easy for him to be in the medical examiner’s office, knowing that it was the last stop his brother made before he was buried. As she drove, Emily drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering if what Dr. Wiley said was right — had the town lost faith in the FBI? Did it appear to be just some sort of good faith effort by the government to send a herd of agents, make a lot of noise and then leave again, forcing the people of the town to suffer through another six months of agony? Emily chewed her lip. If there was one thing she knew about criminals, it was that they made mistakes. No one, not even Cash Strickland or any of his experts, could convince her that whoever was doing the killing hadn’t made a mistake. They just hadn’t found it yet. Emily swallowed, a calm settling over her. She would find this guy, hopefully in time to rescue Lexi.

  39

  Ollie had stopped at the bar on the way home from work. There wasn’t any rush to get home now that Lexi was secured in the basement. He knew she’d be waiting for him when he arrived. She couldn’t have gone anywhere at all. He pictured her face in his mind, her wrists bound to the chair, her long hair streaming behind her. It was a comforting thought. Getting in his truck, a little woozy from a couple of shots he’d drank right before leaving, Ollie wondered if maybe he should have smacked the little girl in the head again, putting her to sleep before he left. Starting up the van, he realized there’d be time for that later.

  The weather had worsened while he was in the bar, the now constant rain coming in sheets that thrummed over the hood and windshield as the van pushed forward into the night. At least it was a good distraction from the tension in his chest he couldn’t seem to get rid of. Sage. That was nearly all he’d been able to think about over the last few weeks. His little girl.

  From a front pocket of his shirt, he pulled out his phone, dialing his ex-wife. It was late in Tifton, but the spot Libby had taken the girls to in Canada was a couple of hours behind them. He waited for the call to connect, trying to hear the phone over the pounding of the rain. Ollie slowed down, hoping she would pick up. A second later, Ollie heard a voice on the other end of the line, “Ollie? Why are you calling?”

  “I want to talk to the girls, Libby. You never let me talk to the girls.”

  “Are you drunk again?”

  “It’s not your business what I’m doing, Libby. We’re divorced, remember?” he hissed.

  “And it’s my job to protect the girls, remember?”

  “I need to talk to them, Libby. You can’t keep me from my girls forever. I have half a mind to drive right on up there and come and see them myself. The judge said I was allowed to.” Ollie’s chest tightened, a wave of fury rising over him. He swerved, not seeing the edge of the road, but managed
to get the van back on the pavement in the rain. It was hard enough to see in the storm. Arguing with Libby at the same time didn’t help.

  “Well, maybe if you’d been a better father then they’d want to talk to you.”

  “What are you saying? They don’t want to talk to me?”

  There was a pause. Ollie knew things had not been going well between him and Libby. It had been a long, long time since he’d been able to talk to the girls. They were teenagers now. Sure, it was late in Canada, probably ten o’clock, Ollie figured, but teenage girls were usually up late. Wouldn’t they want to talk to him? To tell him about their day and what they’d been up to?

  Libby interrupted his thoughts, “That’s exactly what they’re saying to me. Sage said to me just yesterday that she doesn’t even know you. Doesn’t remember you, either.”

  The barb hurt. Ollie pressed his lips together, tightening his jaw, “This is all your fault, Libby. You gave me those kids and then stole them away to live with that other man. You should be ashamed of yourself. You wait, things like this, they come back to people. You’ll get yours.” Ollie ended the call, throwing his phone down onto the floor of the passenger’s side of the van. His body was hot, rage filling him. Libby had destroyed their family. If it weren’t for her, he would be sitting at home right now, thinking about his girls, worrying about them and planning for their future, not alone thousands of miles away, drunk, driving through a rainstorm.

  Sage. That was all he could think about. The shape of her face, her wide eyes, the pink roller skates she loved so much, the noise of the wheels rattling up and down the driveway as she rolled back and forth, the only interruption when she fell, her giggles lifting over the yard. This was all Libby’s fault. For a second, Ollie thought about going home, getting his bag and driving straight to Canada. He’d never been there. Maybe it was time for a visit. But then his mind floated back to the basement and Lexi Cooper. She was there, waiting for him. She was probably one of the few things that would help heal the hurt in him, the hurt that seemed to surface every six months, at the beginning of the year for Willow and six months later for Sage.

  Thinking about Lexi changed things. Ollie started to feel calm and focused. He imagined gripping Lexi’s arm and setting his saw to her shoulder, seeing the flesh pull away from the bone. He thought about carrying her small torso and laying it gently in the pond, saying goodbye once again to the family he wanted but didn’t have.

  Lexi. He needed to get home.

  40

  By the time Emily got back to the bed-and-breakfast, nearly all the lights were off in the rooms, at least the ones she could see from the outside. The black SUVs were sitting in the parking lot, parked side-by-side in the shadows and the pouring down rain. Emily darted from the Jeep into the back door of the bed-and-breakfast, pulling her hat down low over her face. There was no reason to think any of the FBI agents would be roaming around the building, but just knowing they were that close made her skin tingle.

  As soon as she got in her room, she pulled off her slicker and baseball cap, shaking the coat out, leaving little rain droplets all over the carpet. Standing in the doorway, the power went out and then back on again. “I hope this place has a generator,” she mumbled, heading for the bathroom. After a quick shower, Emily felt better, the sweat of the day rinsed off of her. She sat down on the edge of her bed, pressing her bare feet into the carpet. She called Mike. “Sorry to call so late,” she said.

  “No worries,” Mike said. “I got the files you sent. That’s a lot of information.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “How did you manage to snag all that?”

  “Well, it turns out Bradley Barker is good friends with the county medical examiner. He let me take a look at the files and the remains they just brought back in.”

  “I wondered how that happened. How was he?”

  Emily frowned for a second, “Honestly? He seems frustrated by the lack of progress the FBI is making. I think that’s why he let me look at all the files. He said they come down, hang around for a couple of weeks, and then head home with the promise they’ll figure something out, but they never do.”

  “So, you’re their next best hope?”

  “I guess.”

  “And they’re gonna keep your presence quiet?”

  That was the question Emily wrestled with after dropping Bradley off. Would Dr. Wiley slip up and somehow mentioned to Cash that she’d seen the remains? If Cash found out she’d seen the case files he’d probably slap her within an obstruction of justice charge or an interfering in an investigation charge. Emily swallowed, “I hope so.” Shifting on the bed, Emily changed the subject, “Can you get your people together and take a look at those files I sent over? I’ll take any sets of eyes I can get on this case.”

  “Yeah, of course. Flynn is already here, and Alice is on her way over. Any news about Lexi?”

  “None.”

  With the promise to touch base in the morning, Emily ended her call with Mike. At least Alice was in the mix, she thought. Alice’s background might not be the same as Dr. Wiley’s medical degree, but she’d bet any money that Alice would be able to sort through a lot of the scientific data, probably better than Mike and Flynn. It would be a long night for all of them.

  Emily pulled her laptop and the charging cable out of her backpack and sat on the bed, turning on the television low in the background. After midnight, there wasn’t a lot of programming, just constant weather coverage with the tropical storm blowing into Louisiana. Emily turned on her computer and sent the files from her phone to her laptop, so she could see everything on a larger screen. Was there anything to find? She wasn’t sure. She hoped there was. Lexi’s life depended on it.

  41

  Randy Cooper had grudgingly gone into work. He wasn’t sure about leaving Keira at home by herself, but she had insisted. “I know they will let you stay home, but I don’t want you to burn up all of your family time. There’s nothing going on here. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll let you know. I’d rather have you home when Lexi gets back.” The way Keira said it, Randy wasn’t sure if he should believe her. She looked like a ghost a little more every day that Lexi was gone. But maybe she was right. Maybe keeping themselves busy was the best thing for them to do while the FBI tried to figure out what happened to Lexi. Just thinking about it left a knot in his stomach. He swallowed, “Okay, but I’m going to call your sister and have her come sit here with you while I’m at work. And, if you need anything, I’m going to come right home.”

  Looking off in the distance, Keira didn’t argue, “Okay.”

  Driving to the station in his truck, Randy started to think, watching the rain pound on his windshield. During a tropical storm, Randy never knew what to expect on his shift. Scratching his head, he remembered there’d only been once during his time with the Tifton Fire Department that the chief sent everyone home to wait out the storm. That had been years ago. For the people in the area, a tropical storm wasn’t much of anything, not much more than just a big hassle that slowed things down a bit.

  Walking into the station, Randy took his overnight bag into the bunk room. It wasn’t much, just two lines of twin-size beds pushed against the wall on either side of a narrow room, a few nightstands and lamps scattered between them, the block walls of the firehouse painted a dull gray. He sat down on the end of one of the beds, bent over, tightening the laces of his boots when Bill Kinzer walked in. He sat down on the bunk next to Randy, his eyes protruding from his head, staring, “I’m surprised you’re here,” he said. “Everything going okay?”

  Randy looked at Bill and blinked. The two of them had gone through the fire academy together, spending months scrambling up and down ladders and in and out of smoke-filled buildings to prove they could handle the pressure of the job. Bill had dragged Randy out of one of those buildings while they were training, the seal on his mask breaking in the middle of a test. Randy remembered not being able to see anything, not even the fingers in fr
ont of his face. He kind of felt the same way now, lost without Lexi at home. It was as though someone had taken his entire life, lifted it up, and dropped him and Keira in a place they were completely unfamiliar with — life without Lexi. “Keira made me come in. Didn’t want me to burn any more of my family leave time.”

  Bill shook his head a little bit, “It’s gotta be so hard, man. I don’t even know what to say. Does the FBI have anything? Any ideas at all?”

  Randy stood up and stared at the wall as a wave of anger passed over him, “As a matter of fact, they’ve got nothing. The only thing they’ve been able to tell me and Keira is that it looks like somebody might have stuck a screwdriver or something in the window of Lexi’s room to get to her. Might. They aren’t even sure about that.” He felt a wave of emotion rush over him. Without thinking, a yell came out of him as he ran to the wall on the far side of the room, slapped it with both of his hands and punched it with his right fist. When he turned back to Bill, the anger was starting to subside, but there was blood on his knuckles. “Sorry about that,” Randy said, panting. “I’ve been trying to hold it together for Keira, but it’s so horrible. I can’t begin to tell you what the last few days have been like.”

  Bill stared at Randy for a second, blinking, fish-like eyes jutting out from his head. Without saying anything, he got up and walked over to the doorway, opening a first aid kit that was bolted to the wall. He came back with an antiseptic and some bandages. “Here, let me take a look.”

  Randy sat back down on the end of the bunk and held his hand out for Bill, who dabbed at it with a couple of antiseptic wipes and then covered the scraped skin. Randy flexed his hand open and closed. “I don’t think I broke anything.”