Justified

by C. M. Sutter

  The lieutenant nodded. “I see. That makes sense. So the device fits over the back of the hand?”

  “That’s correct, sir. It’s a weapon that’s meant to inflict deadly results. It’s imperative to contact the medical examiners in the other areas where killings took place. I’m sure there has to be a way to test for metal fragments or metal residue in the slash marks. We have to know what we’re dealing with. We need information and lots of it, including updated ME reports, police interview reports, crime scene reports, and all news coverage information. We need eyes on that data, ASAP. Either there are vicious bear attacks going on in Arkansas or it’s the same serial killer as here”—I tipped my head toward the tent—“and he just crossed state lines.”

  “Give me a minute, please.” Lieutenant Taft waved down his detectives. I heard him tell his men to get on the horn and gather as much information as possible from the other locations and that the FBI needed that data as fast as humanly possible. Both of the detectives headed back toward the park entrance.

  “What else do you have bagged?” J.T. asked.

  “We have the personal effects for each girl—license, wallet, college identification card, and so on. We also bagged three empty pint-sized vodka bottles.”

  I swatted at a pesky mosquito that wouldn’t go away. “Easy prey for sure if the girls were impaired.”

  Joy Pardy, the ME, joined the group. “The blood tests will tell us if the women were intoxicated and if there were any other drugs in their systems. Three young women being this far from other campers seem odd. Either they wanted to be away from civilization because they were up to something or they were avid wilderness enthusiasts and quite comfortable about camping a good distance from the crowd.”

  “Have you had drug-related problems in the park?” I asked.

  The lieutenant spoke up. “Nah, not really. This is a tourist area, Agent Monroe. Kids come here from all over the United States. There’s bound to be trouble at times but nothing that’s an ongoing problem.”

  I turned toward Joy. “Can you give us a rough TOD?”

  “I’d say between eleven p.m. and three a.m. I’ll know more once I get the girls on the table.”

  I dug my fists into my pockets and kicked a few dust-covered pebbles while I thought.

  J.T. spoke up. “So the families haven’t been notified yet?”

  Lieutenant Taft responded. “To be honest, Agent Harper, we were waiting for you and Agent Monroe to arrive. We wanted your input before we spoke to the families. There’s a big difference between telling a parent their daughter was mauled by a bear and saying they were murdered by a serial killer while they were on a weekend camping trip.”

  “Understood, and we’ll have the best answer to that dilemma in just a little while. Tell us about the area, Lieutenant. Interstates nearby, truck stops, a way someone could easily slip out of the park and disappear? Are there street cameras near any of the park entrances and exits, that sort of thing?”

  “All of the above. There’s only one camera at the main entrance, though. It’s used to capture license plate numbers. We try to keep our parks as natural as possible, without a lot of modern technology and outside interference. If a loner walked in from any other path, he wouldn’t be on camera.”

  I turned back toward the ridge we came from earlier and pointed. “That’s a good vantage point, wouldn’t you agree, Lieutenant? Someone could have been watching the girls from a distance before they made their move.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” He held up his hand for us to give him a minute. With his shoulder mic, he called out to several deputies to search the ridge thoroughly. He told them to put a marker next to anything that might look suspicious and to get back to him when they were finished.

  “What about the streets surrounding the park? Are there intersections with traffic cams, strip malls, grocery stores with parking lot cameras, gas stations? We need to cover every way somebody could have entered the park without going through the main entrance.”

  “I’ll get Chief Faring from the Osage Beach PD on the horn. He can round up plenty of officers to handle that task. Excuse me for just a moment, agents.”

  I watched as Lieutenant Taft paced the area while he spoke on the phone. I turned to J.T.

  “I’m thinking the coroner can take the bodies out now. Everything else needs to be gone over more thoroughly.”

  “Yeah, I agree. I bet nothing like this has ever happened in these parts. There isn’t a town near here that has over ten thousand residents. Look around. This is hiking, camping, and fishing central. It’s what this area has likely been known for—until now.”

  Chapter 4

  “We’ll need to rent a car while we’re here, Lieutenant. Where’s the nearest car rental agency?” I asked as we pulled our bags out of the trunk of the deputy’s car and climbed into the cruiser with him.

  “Well, there isn’t one in Camdenton, so we’ll go on up to Osage Beach and get you a vehicle.”

  “Is that far?”

  He laughed. “No, ma’am, nothing in this neck of the woods is far. We’re five minutes from town. You can get the car squared away, I’ll make some calls, and then you can follow me back to the sheriff’s department. Maybe we’ll have some information by then.”

  “Are the coroner and forensics lab located in Camdenton?”

  “Yes, Agent Harper. We’re all under one roof in the municipal building.”

  “Good to know. Is there a hotel in town?”

  The lieutenant rubbed his chin. “Well, not really. What we do have are resort cottages along the lakes and rivers. Actually, there’s a better choice for you halfway between Camdenton and Osage Beach. It’s called Ozark Inn. It isn’t a five-star hotel, but it is convenient to the police station in Osage Beach and our sheriff’s department in Camdenton.”

  “Thanks, Lieutenant, and we don’t need five star. How about we meet you at the sheriff’s department in, say, an hour? We’ll get a car, check into the hotel, and grab a bite to eat on our way.”

  “Sounds good, Agent Monroe, and I’ll see you soon.”

  The lieutenant dropped us off at the Hertz car rental building. J.T. went inside to pick out a car while I sat on a bench under the awning and made an update call to Spelling.

  “Jade, how’s the investigation going?”

  “Hi, boss. The scene was pretty horrific and definitely staged to look like a bear attack. Three brutally mangled young women that, according to their licenses, aren’t any older than twenty. They all had student IDs in their wallets too, from the local community college.”

  “What is your gut telling you?”

  “I’m thinking they were watched for a while before the killer moved in. We were on top of a ridge as we made our way to the campsite. From that vantage point, and with a good set of binoculars, the killer knew those girls were ripe for the picking. That’s especially true since three empty vodka bottles were found at the scene.”

  Spelling sighed. “It never gets easy. Did the coroner give you a TOD?”

  “Yeah, late last night as far as she could tell. The parents haven’t been notified yet. That might be something better left to the locals. They know the folks in the area. We’re outsiders.”

  “You may have a point, Jade.”

  “For now, boss, the sheriff’s department is gathering information from the other park killings in Arkansas. We have to know if we’re dealing with a murderer or if those cases were actually bear attacks. J.T. is getting us a car, and we’ll be staying at the Ozark Inn. We’ll be working with the local police and sheriff’s department. I’ll keep you posted.” I hung up, and J.T. walked out the glass door, swinging a key ring on his index finger.

  “Ready to check into the motel?”

  I grinned. “What are we driving?”

  He tossed the keys to me. “I figured you’d like a Jeep. Let’s go. The guy inside said the motel is only a few blocks away.”

  We checked into the single-story, somewhat
dated motel that faced the frontage road. The no-frills, flat-roofed building held ten rooms, each with an entrance door right off the parking lot. J.T. and I were given the first two rooms beyond the office. A soda and ice machine stood outside the office door. The motel didn’t offer a Continental breakfast, but we were told the best food in town was served at Roy’s Hometown Cafe. We’d keep that in mind. For now fast food would do the trick. We needed to get to the sheriff’s department.

  The wide tires on the Jeep kicked up gravel as I peeled out of the motel parking lot on our way to Camdenton. A quick stop at a drive-through restaurant would hold us over until dinnertime. We wolfed down our burgers, fries, and sodas during the twenty-minute drive.

  The largest building in that small community was the tan, stucco-covered municipal building. It housed every government office in the county as well as the public library. I parked the Jeep, and we entered through the street-side door. We followed the corridor that led to the sheriff’s department. J.T. pulled open the glass door that was covered with a six-point gold star and the words Camden County Sheriff’s Department.

  We approached the counter and asked for Lieutenant Taft. A pleasant looking middle-aged woman, who introduced herself as Linda, called the lieutenant’s phone. He walked out from a back hallway moments later.

  “Agents, follow me. I have news.”

  Two left turns down hallways lined with plaques and photographs of past department heads took us to a glass-walled office just beyond the sheriff’s department bull pen. I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy as we walked by. I missed my old crew dearly, but we had plans to spend time together at Christmas. I looked forward to that.

  I recognized the detectives sitting in the office. They were the same detectives from the crime scene earlier and the ones Taft had told to check into gathering all the information from the Arkansas killings. We entered the room and took two vacant seats. Taft sat at the head of the table and began.

  “I know Lenny made quick introductions this morning, but once again, Agents Harper and Monroe, this is Tony Stiller and Matt Rose.”

  J.T. and I stood, leaned over the table, and shook their hands.

  “Okay, guys, explain to the agents what you’ve learned so far.”

  Chapter 5

  “Break time?” John asked when Ray cranked the wheel on the big rig and turned in to the wayside. He shifted into Park and let the truck idle.

  “I need to stretch and use the facilities. These places usually have horrible, but drinkable, vending machine coffee, but you probably know that from your own experiences. Why don’t you grab a couple cups of that mud, and we’ll relax for ten minutes or so then hit the road again.”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” John watched from the passenger seat as Ray exited the truck and took the sidewalk to the men’s room. He climbed into the sleeper area and opened his pack. He carefully pulled out the Neko Te gloves and a skinning knife then noticed a claw was missing from the right glove. His anger was ignited, and he violently punched the wall of the sleeper.

  Son of a bitch! If that was found, everything going forward is over.

  He punched the wall again then climbed over the seat and stashed both weapons out of sight under the passenger seat. His new discovery weighed heavily on his mind. That state park bear-killing scenario had been working to perfection. He climbed down the truck steps and headed to the vending machine under a pergola right as Ray walked out of the lavatory. John took a deep breath to release his anger. He waved to get Ray’s attention. “Forgot to ask how you drink your coffee.”

  “Black works. I don’t have time to fuss.”

  “Got it.” Several minutes later, John carried two hot coffees in cardboard cups toward the truck. He saw Ray sitting on the curb, studying something on his phone. John handed him a coffee and took a seat on the lawn next to him. “Whatcha looking for?”

  “I’m checking for the best route to Detroit. I heard there’s construction on I-70 East causing backups and a lot of headaches. I think I’ll stay on 54 and connect with I-70 through St. Louis then cut north on I-57 when we get to Effingham. We can veer east again when we reach Chicago.”

  “That sounds logical.” John took a sip of coffee. “The distance is about the same, and it could save hours of sitting in traffic. Do you always take the toll roads?”

  “Yeah, I usually do. There’s nothing worth rubbernecking at in the Midwest, anyway, so I stay on the well-traveled, well-lit roads.”

  “I grabbed some chips and candy bars too. That way you can nap until dinnertime if you want. I don’t mind taking over.”

  “Sure, let’s switch when we cross into Illinois. We’ve only got an hour to go.”

  Forty-five minutes later, John shook the potato chip remains into his mouth, crumbled up the bag, and dropped it into a plastic garbage bag attached to the side of the footwell. He reached under the seat and felt the smooth steel blade of the skinning knife. “Are you about ready to let me take over? It looks like your head is beginning to bob.”

  Ray rolled his neck and stretched with a deep sigh then rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right, I am starting to drift off. Give me a second here to pull over to the shoulder.”

  John stared through the side mirror at the empty stretch of two-lane highway behind them. The mile-long surface road that led to the interstate was the perfect place to do the deed. Ray wouldn’t know what hit him.

  Ray downshifted and pressed the brakes until the rig chugged to a stop. He gave John a questioning frown. “You do remember how to drive one of these beasts, right?”

  John laughed. “Of course. It hasn’t been that long. It’s like getting on a bicycle after years without riding. You never forget. Trust me, dude, I’ve got this. Go take your nap.”

  Ray shifted into Park, yanked the handle for the emergency brake, and then climbed over the seat to the sleeper compartment and arranged the bedding. John climbed down the steps on the passenger side and grabbed the skinning knife before he slammed the door. He made his way around the truck and got in behind the wheel. He turned and looked over his right shoulder. “Got everything you need back there?”

  “Yeah, I think I’m set.”

  “Before you get comfortable, can you toss my backpack up here to the passenger seat? I’d like to keep it out of your way.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Just as Ray lifted the pack and flung it over the seat, John seized the moment and drove his knife into Ray’s side. Ray’s shocked expression made John chuckle with demon-like pleasure. “What…why?” Ray writhed in pain and gasped as he collapsed against the seatback. He looked down at his left side, where blood seeped through his denim jacket.

  “I need your truck and your money, that’s why. Those sleeping quarters look pretty comfy too.” John pushed the knife in deeper and twisted it back and forth. “You’ll be dead in a minute. It’s about to puncture your lung. Just go with it, Ray. It’s easier if you don’t fight back.” John gritted his teeth and, with a final thrust, buried the knife between Ray’s ribs until the wooden handle was the only part exposed. John heard the gurgle of blood mixed with the air escaping Ray’s left lung. He pushed Ray back into the sleeper area, shifted the truck into first gear, and pulled out onto the road. John had never driven a semi until he caught a ride with that trucker he had killed last week, but he considered himself a quick study. Driving that big rig would be a piece of cake.

  Chapter 6

  We listened intently as detectives Stiller and Rose explained what they had learned from the coroners that handled the autopsies in Arkansas. After being told the lacerations and gashes covering each body might have come from something other than a bear, the coroners measured the distance between each slice and depth of the cuts. With two victims at each site, they were able to compare the marks on the bodies. The medical examiners realized after the fact that the slices were too uniform and evenly spaced to be the work of a wild, vicious animal. The deep wounds and spacing between them were nearly identical in a
ll the autopsies.

  Detective Rose added, “The coroners in both counties said they would check for metal dust and slivers in the lacerations, but they may not have a conclusive answer until tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “The uniform cuts make sense if the killer wore the Neko Te. He could only spread his fingers so far, and the depth wouldn’t vary much, either. I feel confident in saying there’s a serial killer roaming the state parks in the area.”

  “How about witness statements or anyone that seemed suspicious captured on video?” J.T. asked.

  Detective Stiller flipped the page in his notepad and read aloud what he had written down. “A ranger at Bull Shoals-White River State Park told an officer about a young man he spoke to that morning. He said the young man mentioned seeing a big guy lumbering through a heavily wooded area of the park, as if he was deliberately trying to stay off the trails. He also said it was just after daybreak and how he thought it odd that anyone would be wandering around at that time of day.”

  “So why was the young man up that early, and what’s his name?”

  Detective Stiller checked his notes. “He didn’t tell me the kid’s name, but I’ll get that information for you, Agent Monroe. He told the ranger he climbed out of his tent to take a leak. He heard racket in the trees and expected to see a deer meandering through. Instead, he saw a huge man. He said it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something seemed off about the situation.”

  I groaned as I dragged my fingers through my hair. “That could have been the killer.”

  “True, but at that time of the morning, the bodies hadn’t been discovered yet. The man made a clean getaway, if he was indeed the culprit. The kid also told the ranger that the man was wearing a baseball cap and an oversized dark-colored backpack.”