The Deadliest Sins

by Rick Reed

  “The video is poor,” Jack said.

  Sanchez said, “Could it be a woman? There are some strong women. That pig sticker would even the odds. It wouldn’t take that much to push that bayonet in deep. Take Trooper Battle for instance. You don’t think she could kick your ass in the blink of an eye?”

  Battle came up quietly behind Sanchez. “In your case, Lieutenant Sanchez, you might not even have to blink. Director Toomey verified your story. Come on. I’ll show you around. Crime Scene is inside, and I’ve notified him we’re coming. Don’t touch anything.”

  They followed her across the lot, and when they came even with the dead trooper’s car, Jack stopped to look inside.

  Lt. Battle turned and said, “The crime scene tech is waiting for us.”

  “Just a minute,” Jack said.

  The victim was a female state trooper. Probably in her early to mid-thirties. The Smokey Bear hat was shoved onto her head at a crooked angle. Something a trooper would never do. The collar of her jacket was pulled up on the side near the driver’s window. The OPEN sign was turned off, and a CLOSED sign hung in the front door glass.

  She spotted someone either coming out or already in the parking lot. She saw the CLOSED sign. She would have known the place shouldn’t be closed, but for whatever reason, that fact wasn’t suspicious enough to get out of her car. She was left-handed. Her gun is still holstered. The killer surprised her? Yanked the door open, grabbed her, killed her, and left her in the seat with the engine running to make it appear she was working or asleep?

  “Is this the way she was found?” Jack asked Battle.

  “More or less. A regular customer found her and came to the State Post to report it. He said Jeanie—I mean Trooper Battle—was in her car with the engine running and she was bloody.”

  Jack saw the nametag: J. Battle.

  “Is she related?” Jack asked.

  “My sister,” Battle said.

  “Lieutenant Battle, I think you should excuse yourself from the scene,” Jack said.

  Sanchez said, “I’ll call the Post.”

  Battle’s expression hardened. Her eyes settled on Jack.

  “Is there anyone we can call for you? Someone who can stay with you?” Jack asked.

  “Go to hell, Murphy! I’m not going anywhere. Lieutenant Sanchez—or whoever you are this time—that’s my sister. My niece is inside. Murdered. Everyone inside is dead. And I’m...” Her words trailed off, and she turned her back to them, arms hanging limply by her sides, head bowed.

  Sanchez stepped away and called his dispatch. He spoke for a moment and came back. “Dispatch is calling Highway Patrol. They’re going to send a captain and a team out here. We’ll stand by.”

  Battle glared at Sanchez, but her resolve was weakening. “You don’t have the authority to relieve me here. This is still a Missouri Highway Patrol investigation, and I...”

  Sanchez yelled at the sergeant with the crime scene log and motioned him over. The sergeant came trotting up.

  “Sergeant, you take charge here until your supervisor and a team of investigators arrive.”

  “That’s my supervisor,” the sergeant said, nodding toward Lt. Battle.

  The man’s nametag read Sgt. L. Ringo. Sanchez said, “Sergeant Ringo, you need to put the lieutenant in your car and stay with her. We’ll help out until the team arrives from Highway Patrol.”

  “She outranks me,” Ringo said.

  “I don’t give a shit if she’s your mama. She’s a liability in a murder investigation. Lawyers would have a field day with that. They may anyway because no one knew she was working on the murder of her sister and niece. Did you know?”

  Sgt. Ringo said nothing.

  Sanchez pulled his badge and held it out. “I’m a federal agent, and I’m assuming control of this crime scene. That includes you and everyone here. I’m ordering you to take the lieutenant to your car and stay with her until help arrives.”

  The sergeant looked relieved and trotted off to corral the lieutenant, who was now sitting on the front fender of her dead sister’s car. She pushed his hand away but followed him to his car and got inside.

  A few minutes later another Highway Patrol vehicle pulled into the lot and drove up to the taped perimeter. The driver left the car there and approached them on foot.

  “Major Maddox,” he said but didn’t offer his hand. “My dispatcher explained your credentials. I’ve spoken with Assistant Deputy Director Toomey, and he vouched for you. I didn’t even know we had a new federal task force, but nobody tells me anything. I appreciate you boys calling this to my attention. I just wish you hadn’t said anything to our dispatcher. Oh well, the deed is done. What have we got?”

  Jack motioned for Sergeant Ringo to come and explain what they had found, which was good, because Jack hadn’t heard all of it yet. Lt. Battle remained in the sergeant’s car, facing forward.

  Ringo said, “I got here first, Major. A regular customer came to eat lunch and saw the CLOSED sign in the door and the blinds were shut. He said he noticed the Highway Patrol car sitting there when he pulled up.” Ringo motioned toward the car with the dead trooper inside. “It’s Jeanie Battle. Anyway, the witness said he went to ask her what was going on. He thought maybe there’d been a robbery. This place is robbed at least twice a year. Anyway, he tapped on the window and saw the blood. He swears he didn’t touch anything. He just got in his truck and came straight to the Post. He’s still at the Post as far as I know,” Ringo said. “He was told to stay put until someone took his statement.”

  Major Maddox’s face was unreadable, but he said, “No one stayed with the witness?”

  “The lieutenant made the decision, sir,” he said.

  It made sense to Jack. She somehow knew her sister and niece were in trouble and like any family member, especially someone with enough rank to control the police response, would try to go and see things for herself. She probably realized she was in over her head when she found her sister was dead and not just wounded. She panicked and went inside to help her niece. But the girl was already dead.

  Jack thought she was giving them such a hard time because they were encroaching on her jurisdiction, or because she was angry with Sanchez. In fact, she was already in shit up to her neck and drowning for messing the case up.

  Major Maddox said, “Sergeant, we’ll discuss this later. I want you to answer these men’s questions. I’ll have some of my own.”

  Chapter 25

  Sanchez drove west on I-64 like he was in the Indy 500. The Denali had emergency lights in the grill and back window, and a siren, but he didn’t need them as he bullied his way through traffic. Jack approved.

  “It’s our guy,” Liddell said.

  “I’m glad Major Maddox took charge of the scene,” Sanchez said. “Maybe they can salvage the investigation.”

  Sergeant Ringo had told them the witness came to the Post and their dispatcher called Lt. Battle instead of sending a trooper to the café. The dispatcher had been trying to contact the lieutenant’s sister, Trooper Jeanie Battle, to send her to a vehicle accident on the interstate. When Trooper Jeanie Battle didn’t respond to several radio calls, the dispatcher called her sister, Lieutenant Battle.

  Lt. Battle told the dispatcher to send another car and to let her know when she made contact with her sister. Lt. Battle was on the other side of the city when the customer came to the Post and reported an injured trooper at the café. From there it turned into a comedy of errors.

  Sgt. Ringo said he’d volunteered for the run to the café because he was familiar with it and he was close. Lt. Battle had called him on his cell phone and asked him to keep her updated on the café run. She was going to her sister’s house to check on her.

  Sgt. Ringo arrived at the café and immediately knew it was more than an injury. He went to the dead trooper’s car and opened the door. He saw blood
and called for an ambulance. He checked for a pulse and found none. He called dispatch and asked for backup assistance.

  Lt. Battle heard Ringo’s call for an ambulance and advise it was for a code ten-zero, which means deceased. She had called Sgt. Ringo, and he told her that her sister, Jeanie, was dead.

  Lt. Battle did one thing right today. She didn’t allow every trooper on the road to crowd into the crime scene. She responded to the run herself, along with one other trooper, and told the other cars to remain on patrol. She arrived and found the door of her sister’s car still standing open. She checked for signs of life, shut the car door, and ran to the front door of the café. Sgt. Ringo had gone to the back door and found it open. He came to the front door and let the lieutenant in. They both searched the back of the café.

  Major Maddox had allowed Sanchez, Jack, and Liddell to do a walk-through of the scene inside the café.

  “The wounds on the bodies appear identical to our cases,” Jack said. “Neither of you think it was a robbery, do you?”

  “No way,” Liddell said.

  “The money and identifications were stolen. The manager had a laptop computer, but I didn’t see one, just the power cord,” Sanchez said. “He kills three people and stages the scene. That didn’t happen in any of the other murders. All the other murders followed a pattern. Maybe this guy is just killing for fun now. He’s completely unhinged.”

  “But why these three people?” Jack asked. “That bayonet is his signature. He’s gotten away with five mass murders and left no trace. Why do this now?”

  “Maybe this one was personal,” Liddell suggested.

  Sanchez pulled into the grass of the highway divider, did a U-turn, bounced up on the eastbound lanes, and picked up speed. He called dispatch and asked them to have Major Maddox call ASAP. Maddox called, and Sanchez told him what he wanted.

  When Sanchez hung up, he said, “He’s still with Lieutenant Battle at the State Post. He said she will talk to us.”

  * * * *

  Sanchez parked behind the State Highway Patrol Post, and they met Major Maddox at the back doors. Maddox led them to his office, where Lieutenant Battle sat, eyes red and puffy from crying. She had changed into a clean uniform. Forensics had taken hers.

  Maddox said, “Lieutenant Battle has agreed to talk to you, but I have to remind you that we are conducting our own investigation of the matter and anything she says will be recorded for a disciplinary hearing. Tread carefully, gentlemen.”

  Battle grimaced slightly at that but was otherwise composed. She said nothing, which was probably smart given that she’d screwed the pooch at a homicide scene involving an officer.

  Jack said, “I have a few questions, Lieutenant. Could this have been personal? Would anyone want to hurt your family? Or you?”

  The question seemed to take her by surprise. “Jeanie has been divorced for ten years,” she said. “Her ex wasn’t in the picture for years before that. He travels. A truck driver. She didn’t want support, and he has no interest in being a daddy, so I can’t see...”

  “Enemies?” Jack asked.

  “My sister and I are cops. What do you think?”

  “Anyone in particular we should know about? Spurned lovers? Stalkers?” Sanchez asked.

  Battle took a deep breath before answering. “My sister is married again. This time to a wonderful and caring woman who is always present in their lives. They’ve been together for a very long time, and there are no problems at home. Jeanie would have told me. We shared everything. Her wife helped raise Benny—that’s my niece—as if she were her own child. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Agent Sanchez.”

  “Is there any reason you can think of?” Sanchez asked.

  She said to Jack, “You had a trailer full of dead immigrants in Evansville this morning. I saw it on the news here. Now you’re wanting to see if your case is connected to the case in St. Louis. The St. Louis case is like the one in Evansville. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Jack said.

  “Was it connected? Is it the guy you’re after?”

  “We’re not sure.” Jack said, although he was ninety-nine percent sure. “You said Jeanie’s ex-husband is a truck driver. Do you know who he’s working for or how we can reach him?”

  “He’s a truck driver, but he’s not capable of killing a fly. I’ll give you his information, at least what I know, but you’re wasting your time.” She wrote the ex’s information on a scrap of paper and gave it to Jack.

  Jack said, “Lieutenant Battle, I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through, but I can promise you we’ll find the person responsible.”

  Her hands tightened into fists, and her voice filled with emotion. “Not if I find the bastard first.”

  Major Maddox turned his face away.

  They started to leave, and Battle said, “Will you at least keep me updated?”

  Jack assured her they would and left her with Maddox. She was his problem now.

  Outside the Post as they climbed into the Denali, Sanchez said, “She didn’t do herself any favors in there.”

  Jack agreed. Major Maddox would have no choice but to suspend Lt. Battle and maybe even suggest dismissal from service. She could fight it, but that would be like pissing into the wind. Some of it always comes back on you. He felt for her, and he’d meant what he said about catching this guy. He decided he’d do his best to keep her updated.

  “I’ll get you back to your car. I don’t guess there’s much you can do here for now. You’ll need a little time to get familiar with all of the cases, and that might take a few days,” Sanchez said.

  Jack thought he was right. There were at least three full Bankers Boxes of case file information. He had no doubt they could add the café to those cases after the autopsies of Jeanie Battle, her teenage daughter, the cook, and the manager. Their wounds were identical to his case. Three civilians now and a trooper.

  Chapter 26

  The trip from Evansville to St. Louis had seen little conversation because Jack and Liddell had so little information. The trip back to Evansville, so far, was anything but quiet. Jack turned the conversation back to the café and the killer’s change in his selection of victims.

  “The killer has been consistent with the bayonet. It means something to him. It’s a signature, and this guy seems to be smarter than that,” Jack said.

  “He’s getting careless. That’s good for us. Right?” Liddell said.

  “We’ve been focusing on the murders of the immigrants when we needed to be looking at the drivers. Why the trucks were parked where they were.”

  “I’m not following you, pod’na.”

  “I’m saying, the drivers are killed near their trucks. The killer knew just where to find them. The driver in Evansville was the only one that met this guy away from the truck. That sounds deliberate. Did the driver suspect something? Did he know the other drivers were being killed?”

  “Or the killer commandeered the truck,” Liddell suggested.

  “I don’t think so, Bigfoot. Why would he steal a car and kill the driver across town? Our case, Texas, and St. Louis had some evidence the drivers were on their knees when they were executed.”

  “Okay.”

  “The Florida driver was stabbed in the cab of the truck. The first wound, according to their medical examiner, was through the right side of his neck, and again through the right temple.”

  “The killer was in the truck with the driver,” Liddell said.

  “That doesn’t mean he was in the truck with the other cases,” Jack said. “But he seems to have a lot of knowledge of how human trafficking is done. And he has some way of contacting the drivers. The drivers have some reason they would stop for him, or go to meet him.”

  “And he’s pretty skilled with a bayonet. He doesn’t just stab them repeatedly. All the wounds are near fatal.”
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  “We think he’s left-handed, and most of the autopsies of the drivers indicate the same thing. Let’s say he’s not very tall, because he gets the victims on their knees or kills them where they can’t avoid the bayonet,” Jack said.

  “Like the people at the café,” Liddell said.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think of that one, Bigfoot. Let’s get to that next. Right now we have a left-handed, not-too-tall killer with easy access to his victims. Let’s assume the trooper was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he didn’t mean to kill the people in the café.”

  Jack and Liddell were quiet for the next five miles.

  “I’m going to call Anna,” Jack said.

  “The ICE Queen?”

  “Don’t let her hear you say that, Bigfoot. I’m going to ask her to bring Angelina in on this.”

  Angelina Garcia was a computer genius. She started her career as the IT person for the Evansville Police Department fixing glitches in the data systems that linked EPD to other law enforcement agencies in the state and to the federal database. It was supposed to be a temporary job, but the chief of police discovered the police department needed her and hired her full-time. She was soon assigned wherever needed when she wasn’t patching a system.

  She was working with the Vice Unit when she came to Jack’s attention. He was searching for a serial killer that was using nursery rhymes to select and kill children. She had proven herself invaluable in digging up information and using her connections with other agencies and in the cyber-world.

  After that case Angelina got engaged to Mark Crowley, a deputy sheriff from a neighboring county. She semi-retired from EPD and moved into her fiancé’s cabin on Patoka Lake and was now on a consulting basis with the Evansville Police Department and several other law enforcement agencies. He and Liddell had worked a human trafficking and murder case in Louisiana early on in the summer. Angelina had given them a hand with that, and she ended up getting chummy with the FBI, ICE, DEA, and ATF. Jack suspected she was now consulting for the Feds, but Angelina wouldn’t admit it.