Murder in the Dell

by Bert Entwistle

  “What about Austin and Vince?”

  “Austin is in the field, but Vince will be here.”

  “Deacon, from what I’ve seen so far, your new guy looks pretty sharp.”

  “Yeah, so far, so good. He’s really up on computers and all the new high-tech stuff. You know that I’m requesting another officer right after the election, right?”

  “Really? Do you think Bayfield County will spring for the extra money?”

  “How can I miss? You know I have at least one supervisor that loves me.”

  “So much for the new officer.” Felix handed everyone a copy of the new profile. “There are a few changes here. This is only about the dead girls, not the severed arm. The first thing here is a note attached to it. They say that the extreme variety of killing styles is so unusual that the margin for error is greater than normal.”

  “Sounds like a pretty wide open disclaimer,” said Deacon, “and we haven’t even read it yet.”

  “Probably so. In a nutshell, this is what it says:”

  Suspect is a white male, age 20 to 65 years of age. He is an anti-social loner, may work alone but could have a long-term partner, who may or may not participate. The randomness of the killing methods indicate a motive not yet understood,” he said, flipping the page.

  “He may be following a fantasy scenario, or taking his cue from something inside his head, acting on some premise we cannot yet understand. He is intelligent, has a high IQ and is or was a high level professional or creative of some kind. The plastic sheeting and the tie ropes are all exactly the same for each victim. No fingerprints or foreign DNA were found on any part of the body, plastic, clothing or ropes. The killer for all the women is the same suspect. The only reason for him to stop would be if he has fulfilled his mission, whatever it may be, his physical condition deteriorates, he dies, or he is caught.”

  “I can see why they put the disclaimer on this,” said Angie. “That’s a pretty broad profile.”

  “The problem, as we all know,” said Felix, “is there is never a crime scene in this kind of case. We have no clue where they were when they died. Aside from the plastic and the ropes, which, by the way, were all exactly the same kind, we have absolutely nothing else to investigate forensically.” Felix headed for the door. “Deacon, I have to get going, call if you need me.”

  “That was pretty much useless,” said Deacon. “That guy is a pain in the ass. He comes and goes whenever he wants, strutting around like a little banty rooster keeping all his hens in line.”

  “So where to from here sheriff?” asked Vince.

  “Austin is tracking down Terri Hanson, Carly’s second girlfriend. I need you to start searching for everything you can find on the owner of the Iron Town Bar. I’m going to talk with Susan and Jeff Russell again.”

  Chapter 6

  Angie looked up when the door opened. “Hello, are you the lady I spoke with on the phone a few minutes ago? About my missing daughter? I’m Emma.”

  “Hi, I’m Angie Timmons. The Sheriff isn’t here right now, but I called him and he’s on his way. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or maybe water?”

  “Water would be fine, thank you.”

  Deacon walked in just as she sat the water on the desk. “Hello Emma, I’m Sheriff Davis. Angie said your daughter is missing?”

  Wiping at her tears, she handed him a photograph of her daughter. “Her name is Maria Sue Meyers. She’s 24 years-old and was going to the university in Ashland. Nobody has seen her for three days. She’s our middle child and only daughter. My husband Tom has been looking for days and hasn’t found anything.”

  “Emma, did you talk to Sheriff Boatman? You’re in Douglas County, this is Bayfield County.”

  She nodded and dabbed at her tears again. “I did, and he took my information and filed a missing person report. But he hasn’t found her yet. I heard that Bayfield County has found some girls, so I decided to drive over here myself to give you a picture and all the information, just in case she was one of the girls you found.”

  He stared at the picture, wondering if it she might be their next victim. A pretty brunette girl with large brown eyes wearing a cheerleader outfit stared back up at him. “No,” said Deacon, “she’s not one of our victims. I’m sorry I can’t help you. If you’ll leave your information and the photograph, we’ll let you and the Sheriff know if we come up with anything.”

  Emma Meyers walked slowly to the door. “Thank you Sheriff. I hope you find your killer.”

  “Sweet Christ Almighty, what the hell is going on here? For the first ten years I was here we averaged maybe one murder every two or three years, and most of them were family issues. Now we have a guy killing young women as fast as he can find them and nobody has a clue who he is.”

  “Deacon, you’ll catch this guy, you can’t beat yourself up about it,” said Angie.

  “I took this job because I love this place. I intentionally didn’t go to a big city police force so I could be where I grew up and knew the county and the people. Right now, I’m a small-time sheriff with a big time problem. I may be in over my head on this one.”

  “Deacon, that’s crap and you know it,” said Angie. “You’re feeling bad about these girls, but so is everyone. I know you’re going to get this guy.”

  Austin Stone had been with the county for four years. A unique combination of body builder with an IQ of 141, and a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice made him an invaluable asset to the office. He was just over six foot and weighed 220 pounds, all of it muscle. An expert marksman with any weapon, he was absolutely fearless in any situation, and like Deacon, he was a serious workaholic.

  “Austin, what have you found out about the Hanson girl?”

  “Actually, not much. I have a couple of good pictures from her mother, her school records and her cell phone records. Her last call was from Zeke’s bar about an hour before they all left. After that it went dead.”

  “Did you talk to the other girlfriend, what’s her name, Reese?”

  “I just called her, and I’m headed there now. They both live in Ashland, but go to school in Superior. She hasn’t heard from Terri since that night.”

  “Tell her we need permission to search her daughter’s phone and her social media connections. I’m going to watch the video from the Zeke’s bar and see if it shows anything interesting. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  The room lights were dimmed and a single fluorescent fixture hung directly above the table. He always kept the room cool, to the point he almost needed a sweater while he worked. “This will not take more than two or three minutes,” he said. “How fast you bleed out will depend on how large I make the cuts, and I don’t want it to happen too fast. I can’t really imagine what it must be like to be you right now and actually witnessing this happen. Your body, frozen in its last moments as your life pumps away one heartbeat at a time. I almost wish I could experience what you’re seeing, but then who would record it for me? A woman your size would have maybe eight pints of blood, perhaps a bit more. I would say you have lost about two pints already.”

  An attractive young woman, very petite, with wavy red hair, lay stretched out with her head slightly elevated and her arms at her side. Completely naked, freezing cold and unable to move, her eyelids were frozen wide open. She could feel her heart pumping wildly, causing small spurts of blood to trickle down her neck and pool around her shoulders. A dark figure stood over her, just outside the light, watching quietly and making notes.

  It had all happened to her so quickly. One minute she was walking home along the snow covered street, just a block from home — the next minute a stranger grabbed her, gave her an injection and pushed her into his trunk. Taking her cell phone, he pulled the battery and card. Stuffing it in his pocket he slammed the lid shut. When the trunk finally opened, he gave her another injection before she could even comprehend what was happening to her.

  When she came to, she was laying on her back st
ark naked, staring straight ahead. She heard every sound, saw everything around her and felt the cold engulfing her. The last thing she would ever see was his dark figure unrolling a sheet of black plastic, then her heart quit pumping. Making his last notes, he set the pad aside and resumed his business. After washing her body and drying it with white paper towels, he redressed it with her own freshly laundered clothes.

  Spreading out the plastic sheeting, he rolled the body onto it. Smoothing out her clothes, he brushed her hair and straightened her arms beside her. Before he put the plastic over her, he reached out and closed her eyes. So pretty, he thought, like Disney’s Sleeping Beauty.

  Folding the plastic from her left side across her body to her right side, he tucked the edges under her body. Then he rolled her over and pulled the plastic from her right side back to the left. Pulling it all snug, with an extra foot of overlap, he folded in each end neatly and tied two wraps of white, quarter inch cotton rope around the feet and ankles then added a third wrap around the waist. He tied the ends together with a simple square knot. Using a hand held heat gun, he spent several minutes heating the plastic, shrinking it to smooth out the wrinkles and tighten it up.

  When the package was finished, he carried her to where the car was already warming up and put her in the trunk. Slipping on his coat, hat and gloves, he climbed in and pulled out of the garage. NPR was playing some sort of progressive jazz and he scanned the dial until he found something more to his liking. He found some Vivaldi, not his first choice, but much better than any contemporary jazz. Pulling out of the driveway, he adjusted the volume and headed for someplace out of the way. Several miles west of town he turned off on a gravel road and drove about a mile. The road ended at an unlit parking area that was used for snowmobilers heading out on one of the many trails in the region. Knowing there would be no traffic this time of night, he backed up to the trees and opened his trunk. Dropping the package in the snow, he pulled it a short ways into the woods, leaving it in the middle of a well-used snowmobile trail and headed home.

  * * *

  The weather had broken clear for the first time in days. It was predicted to be above freezing for the next week. Deacon sat at his desk watching the steam from his coffee disappear into the air. Austin and Vince walked in a minute later.

  “Morning boss, looking like it might be a nice one today,” said Stone.

  “Could be,” said Deacon. “What about Terri Hanson? Did you find anything out?”

  “Happy to report that she’s safe and sound, and warm, in Key West Florida. Her and her boyfriend left that night on a lark, said they had enough snow and cold for one winter. Her phone died and she didn’t know anyone was looking for her. Her and Cheryl Reese are pretty shook up, but they’re both safe.”

  “That’s great news, we can cross them off our list. Maybe we’ll get a break on this case after all.”

  Angie had answered the first call of the morning and was motioning to Deacon. “We’ll be right there. Deacon, snowmobilers just found another body wrapped in black plastic, out at the Tall Pines snowmobile parking area.”

  “Well shit — and I thought it might be a good day. Call Felix and tell him we’re headed out there now, and call our favorite coroner. Vince, you take one cruiser and Austin and I will take one.”

  The short gravel road was already getting slushy when they pulled up. Several trucks with snowmobiles still on the trailers were parked in the lot. One of the men walked them a short ways down the trail. The body was laid out in the middle of the track with its head pointed west. It was wrapped just like the others. Any footprints left by the killer had been trampled by the people who found her and were already turning to slush. The tire tracks were even worse. The Bayfield County van pulled into the parking area and stopped between the police cruisers. Doctor Baker walked down the short path to the body without looking at anyone. “Has anyone touched anything here?”

  Deacon rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No Doctor Baker, no one has touched anything . . .”

  Baker shot him a nasty glance then bent down to look at the plastic. After a few minutes he had the deputies roll the corpse face down. Making a small slit in the lower right back he tried to push the thermometer into the liver but the body was too frozen. Slitting the plastic alongside her head, he exposed her face.

  “Recognize her?” asked Baker.

  Deacon shook his head, “never saw her before.”

  “Let’s get her in the van and back to the morgue,” said Baker.

  Felix Barnhart pulled in just as they put the body in the van. “Deacon, the forensics’ guys will be here shortly, but like all the others, it’s not the crime scene, so I imagine they won’t find a lot. Do you have an ID yet?”

  “No. She’s another Jane Doe for now.”

  “You should know that the bureau has assigned eight more agents to this case and are already spread out through several counties questioning anyone that will stand still long enough to talk. You won’t have to spend so much manpower on this now, we have it covered. By the way, do not remove the bodies until our crime scene guys go over them first, we clear on that?”

  “Crystal clear, but you need to sort that out with the good Doctor. Can we take this one back to the morgue now?”

  “Just go.”

  Deacon, Felix and one of the FBI forensic techs stood across from Baker. After cutting off the ropes, he slit the plastic from head to toe then rolled her over to remove it. Placing the plastic sheeting and the rope in a large evidence bag, the tech sealed it and signed and dated it.

  Baker looked at the three men across from him. “If you’re all staying, then move the hell back. I don’t want to risk one of you contaminating her.”

  “Take it easy Doc,” said Deacon, “we’re not gonna contaminate her.”

  “Don’t start any crap with me Davis, do you think anyone can do this work? You can have the scalpel if you want to try.”

  “No, I’m sorry Doctor, we all appreciate the work you do. The evidence tech will stay for a while in case you find something else for him to take to the lab.”

  “Goodbye Davis.”

  Angie met him as he walked through the cabin door and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “You okay?” she asked, still holding him.

  “I’m fine — a lot better off than the parents of those kids are right now, that’s for sure.”

  “Come and sit by the fire and try and relax a little. I’ll get you a beer.”

  “We have any whisky?”

  “I think so, but I’m not sure what kind. “

  “I’ll take whatever we have,” said Deacon, dropping down on the couch.

  Handing him a glass, she poured each of them a shot. “What did Felix say about it?”

  He downed the first drink and held out his glass for a refill. “He said the bureau has added eight more agents to the case. Including him, there are now fourteen agents in the field searching for this guy. They’ve been questioning every family member, close friend and even casual acquaintances and have nothing. They’ve gone through thousands of hours of social media and phone records, as well as thousands of hours of video surveillance footage and have found nothing of consequence for this case. He also said that they don’t really need any help from us, that they have it covered.”

  “Deacon, you’ve been around here all your life, you know almost everybody in the county, what do you think is going on?”

  He held his glass out for another refill. “Double please. Not a clue what this all about. But I have a nagging suspicion that I am missing something. Something small maybe, but important. It’s been bothering me since we found the severed arm.”

  “How about we sleep on it tonight and start fresh in the morning.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” said Deacon. “We’re not supposed to bring work home anyway — remember?” He poured himself one more double, threw it back and headed up to the bedroom. “I’ll be waiting.”

  When she reached the loft
he was already snoring loudly.

  Driving straight to the mortuary in the morning, Deacon parked and headed into Baker’s lab. Walking in, he saw him pulling the sheet over the body. Like always, he was alone, with soft music playing in the background.

  “Good morning Doctor,” said Deacon, determined not to stir him up this time.

  “Davis, you’re early, I’m not finished with the report yet.”

  “Yeah, I have a little trouble sleeping these days, so I might just as well be working. I know that you’re not completed yet, but I just wonder if you might have the cause of death?”

  “Yes. She died of exsanguination from two incisions, one on either side of the neck.”

  “She bled to death?”

  “Yes Davis, that’s what exsanguination means.”

  “Another murder with a different M.O. but the same disposal method,” said Deacon. “This guy must be trying to make a statement, I just wish I knew what it was.”

  “What does the FBI say about it? Do they think it’s someone with something to say?”

  “Something like that. They say he’s extremely smart, but they don’t know much more than I do. If the FBI can’t figure it out, I don’t see how a small town sheriff like me has much of a chance.”

  “You’re probably right about that. Now go away and let me finish up.”

  Chapter 7

  “It looks like we have identified the most recent girl,” said Felix. “This just came from AFIS, her prints were on file because she worked for the airport in Minneapolis.”

  Deacon studied the picture and read over the details. “She’s a little older than most of them. Maria Sue Meyers, age 26, 5’-2”, 113 pounds and red hair, looks like our girl.”

  “Our agents already contacted her family in St. Paul, they’ll be here this afternoon to identify her and make the arrangements. Her parents are . . .”

  “Emma and Tom Meyers, I already met Emma . . .” said Deacon, hanging her picture on the board with the others. The faces of seven different girls now stared back at them. All but one was already identified, and the pictures provided by the families showed the girls in happy times. Each had their name and information written underneath and the cause of death. Number three was still unidentified, the artist sketch was hanging in her place.