Skye Cree 03: The Bones Will Tell

by Vickie McKeehan

  Standing under the covered portico as rain pounded the canopy above them, they traded looks until Skye snatched the note off.

  “What the hell do you suppose this is?”

  “Maybe you should wait to—” Josh advised too late as he watched her rip open the seal on the letter. He chuckled. “Or not. What does it say?”

  She bounced on her toes while skimming the words. “Holy shit, there’s another body in a Dumpster at Brawley and Edgewater near the harbor.”

  “That’s a construction site close to the viaduct project. I hope this isn’t about Willa.”

  “Me too. I’ll call Harry, get him to meet us there.”

  They took the Subaru and drove the ten blocks well above the speed limit. Pulling into a dark alleyway, Skye turned the headlights to high beam and let the luminous streaks guide them along.

  “The note said it was eight doors down on the right.”

  “Very specific instructions if you ask me.”

  But they counted down anyway till the Dumpster in question came into view. They found a light bluish steel box with ugly rusted places around the bottom. The steady rain had made the blood trail watery. But there were still faint traces of red stuff running down the front and sides.

  “This is no joke,” Skye stated. It looked as if the killer had had a good deal of trouble hefting the body to get it inside and left smears on the metal. The rain shower had streaked the rest.

  “Are we ready for this?” She asked as they both opened the doors at the same time. Skye skirted the hood to get closer. “This is sloppy work, Josh. I’m thinking this isn’t our guy.”

  “Maybe he was in a hurry.”

  Skye studied the entrance to the alley they’d driven down and then the other direction that dumped into Western at the end of the block. She took in the harbor to the left, noted the twinkling lights of the empty docks. Turning her attention to the row of abandoned manufacturing buildings to the right, she said, “Why? There’s no one within four streets of right here. And we wouldn’t even be standing at this spot unless he’d directed us here. Yet, it’s messy and rushed.”

  “Makes you wonder how this guy kept from getting caught for so long.”

  That’s what troubled her and she couldn’t let it go. “Why would he lead us here when it’s obviously such a fresh kill?”

  “Point taken. Should we look inside or wait for Harry?”

  “Unless you want me to lose my supper, I think I’ll elect for you to dive in and explore what’s in there.” At the sound of a car, she looked up. She recognized Harry’s gray Volvo. “Keep that in mind. We’re about to see what a pro thinks about this whole thing.”

  Harry surveyed the scene dressed in a rain-slicked jacket, a pair of jeans, drenched at the cuffs, and an equally soggy T-shirt. He wore comfy tennis shoes without socks on his feet. In the end it was decided the detective should do the Dumpster diving.

  Standing inside the relatively empty container, Harry gave them the play-by-play. “We’ve got a young female still wearing her bra and panties. Light brown hair tells me it’s not Willa. This one had pretty brown eyes that was left open after someone bashed her head in. See this gash here? Fractured her skull at the base.”

  “That’s not our guy’s MO,” Skye said.

  Josh peered in from above. “And the note was different than the others, printed not typed. I’d say this one looks no older than twenty-five. Not a lot of blood at the scene. I don’t think she was killed here.”

  “Somewhere else. Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Good observation.”

  “Let me ask you this. Why is she still wearing her underwear? If our guy tortures before he kills, then why would she have on anything at all? The others were dumped naked.”

  Harry nodded. “This one wasn’t tortured. Either he didn’t have time or… You guys are getting better at this. Bayliss is on his way.” When a patrol unit pulled up, he added, “And this uniform is here to secure the scene.”

  “Is that a polite way of telling us we’re done here?” Skye prompted.

  Harry gave her a sly look, his way of telling her, you two lead, I’ll follow and no one needs to know about it. Instead of that, the detective merely asked, “What do your instincts tell you on this one?”

  “You’ve changed, Harry,” Skye said in response, stealing a glance at Josh. “I believe our mutual friend here is encouraging us to use our creative side for the most impact.”

  Josh grinned. “We’re very good at following a trail, no argument there. And this is the freshest trail we’ve seen in quite some time.”

  “Exactly. Now get out of my crime scene,” Harry directed, loud enough for the uniform to turn his head. “Remember to text me with…whatever it is…you find to…report.”

  The two had plenty to say once they crawled back inside the car and out of the drizzle.

  “What do you make of it?” Josh wanted to know.

  “Harry’s change of heart or the careless way this killer disposed of the body?”

  “The killer.”

  “I don’t know yet but let’s leave the car here. I do my best sorting things out while I’m on foot. Even in the rain, walking helps me think.”

  Just as Skye suspected, with Kiya’s assistance, they picked up the killer’s trail near the entrance to the alley at Brawley and Western. While the activity back at the Dumpster buzzed with more cops and crime scene techs, the wolf had them heading in the opposite direction. They crossed the train tracks, kept to the water’s edge, along the wooded greenbelt lining the harbor.

  The pier came into view. A foghorn sounded somewhere over the Sound. When they reached the bike path, Josh told her, “It’s for damned sure he didn’t ride his bike all this way to dump the body.”

  “No, but you can bet he lives in the area. Not sure it’s our guy though.”

  “The victim was the right age.”

  “There’s that, but the bra and panties are the bonus round. I still don’t think the serial we’re looking for would take the time to put underwear back on. Think about it. Our guy didn’t dress Maggie Bennett or Vanessa Farrington. So why would he do it now, tonight?”

  “He had to be rushed, which again isn’t like our guy. Not to change the subject but you know Dawson Hennings has a major crush on you, don’t you?” Josh tossed out.

  “I know. You handled that fact pretty well today. Since he’s only the second man to feel that way about me, it’s kind of sweet in an ordinary sort of way. The idea that this is a very ordinary thing that happens to people—I guess I’m flattered.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m not. I guess I’m jealous.”

  She grinned before elbowing him in the ribs. “You have no reason to be. By the way, when I was surfing the Internet this morning, I picked up on a disturbing story, a trend. It’s about what’s known as ‘rehoming’ disruptive children who have been adopted out but no longer wanted. The parents dump these kids with people who haven’t even been vetted. They pass them around to anyone who’s willing to take them, a horrific practice that has to open up all kinds of opportunities for abuse. I’m wondering if the Foundation needs to take a closer look at this practice in the Seattle area.”

  He picked up her hand, kissed the palm. “And that’s one of the reasons I love you. You’re always thinking how to help, how to fix a problem, especially when it concerns kids, those most vulnerable who usually can’t help themselves.”

  “Come on, you make me sound…”

  “Beautiful?”

  “I was gonna say corny.”

  “You’re a lot of things but never that.”

  They rounded a bend in the path and spotted the apartment complex, a high-rise overlooking the waterway. Skye noted the wolf turn her regal head to look upward. “Kiya’s better than a police tracking dog at this job. That’s Alpine Court. Twenty-five stories. Five-hundred units. Wanna take bets which floor the bastard lives on?”

  Josh whistled as he lifted his head skyward to check out the tower. Some units
had windows blazing with light. Others had already gone dark for the night. “That’s a lot of condos. How do we get in? This late hour not too many people will be coming and going?”

  “What’s the first thing you do after you’ve just murdered someone?”

  He sent her a wide grin. “Get rid of the body. But we can fast-forward past that step. I see where you’re going with this. When you get back from dumping the body, you’re compelled to clean up the crime scene.”

  “Exactly. There’s no need to lurk in the lobby. We head around back, wait for him to take out the trash or something or stake out the underground parking lot where he’s sure to use his car to dump stuff somewhere else.”

  “You don’t think he’d be that stupid, do you?”

  “He killed someone in this very building and then left a note for us to find the body. I’d say he’s beyond stupid.”

  “Okay, so he’s dumber than a box of rocks. I’m not sure which I hate more, the fact that he’s trying to use us, or that we’re getting used by such a dumbass.”

  “I say we go around back to where the waste receptacles are kept. We stake them out. He’s bound to toss stuff if he hasn’t already.”

  They headed around the corner of the building just as someone threw back the lid on a tan nondescript-looking Dumpster. The cover flew back and clanged into the wall with a thud. A man stood in front of it, tossing out a section of blood-soaked carpeting.

  “Whatcha got there?” Josh asked from three feet away. In the dim light, he saw the man’s face go white at getting caught. There was a brief moment when Josh thought the guy might take off in a run. But the culprit turned, bold as brass to stare into his eyes.

  Josh caught the hint of madness mingled with a good dose of desperation.

  “Who the hell are you? Get out of here. This is private property and none of your damn business.”

  “Murder’s everyone’s business,” Josh said evenly, eyeing the murderer then the garbage bin. He got a whiff of blood first, right before he smelled bleach. The mixture, a sickening combo indicating the killer had tried to use the strongest chemical on hand to get the stain out of the carpet. When that hadn’t done the job, the guy had simply removed a sizeable chunk of rug from the floor.

  As Josh took in the scene he wondered. Could this be the serial killer who had escaped capture for two decades and wanted to get caught now?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man insisted.

  Josh stared at the guy’s bloody shirt and the dark stains on his jeans. “Sure you do. You dumped the woman, left her there beaten and battered, left her with no ID in that alleyway.”

  “Then you decided to write a note sending us to Brawley and Edgewater to find the body. Which we did,” Skye added.

  The man’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Nervous, from the waistband of his dirty jeans, he pulled a revolver, waved it first at Skye then aimed it at Josh. “You get back now. Just stay back both of you. I told you this doesn’t concern nosy neighbors.”

  Josh assessed the man, decided an unpredictable cornered rat could bite if the teeth were sharp enough. This guy’s teeth were primed. It wasn’t in their favor to try reasoning with him. Rattling him seemed the best way to go.

  “Who was she?” Josh demanded. “Your wife? A girlfriend?”

  Skye exchanged furtive glances with Josh. An unspoken dynamic ignited a plan of action. All it took was the nod of heads for Skye to take a step to the side. She faked to the left, distracting the killer long enough for his head to turn at the movement. Josh took the opening and barreled into him with a fist, knocking the man backward, dislodging the weapon. The gun skidded on the wet pavement.

  Skye went over, picked it up while Josh kept the guy in a firm chokehold.

  “I’m texting Harry. It’s up to him to find out who this jerk is with a search warrant in hand.” She took out her phone, keyed in: Address is 8515 Alpine Court. We’re in the back of the complex. Get here soon before Josh breaks him into little pieces and there’s nothing left to lock up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Twenty-four-hours later Harry stopped by the Foundation. “I don’t know how you two do it but you were spot on. I used the carpeting you found in the Dumpster to get a warrant for the owner of that unit.”

  “No doubt that took some fancy talking.”

  Harry grinned. “I told them the beat cop followed a blood trail, didn’t bring you guys into it at all.”

  “Whatever it takes. Who is this guy?”

  “His name’s Benjamin Zaharia. With the warrant we went through the security tapes at the building for the night of the murder. It shows he wrapped the body up in a comforter, carried it out using the service elevator and put it in the trunk of his BMW.”

  “Was she his wife? Girlfriend?”

  “Diana Weatherly, Zaharia’s girlfriend for about two years. I had forensics go over the entire apartment from floor to ceiling. We found blood drops on the remaining carpet he didn’t remove. We also found sizeable spatter in the bathroom that he hadn’t had time to clean up. That was the murder scene. He lost his temper one time too often, got mad, bashed Diana’s head in while she was getting ready for bed.”

  “He hit her from behind?” Josh asked.”

  Harry nodded. “Standing at the sink. He hit her with one of his golf clubs.”

  “Geez, why?”

  “Because Diana defied him one time too often. His words, not mine. He’s sitting in jail where he’ll be staying because the judge denied him bail.”

  “Zaharia doesn’t have anything to do with our serial, does he?” Skye said, wanting to make certain of what her gut already knew.

  “You got it. This is a case of domestic violence gone bad in every way possible. Turns out, the asshole has a history of abuse a mile long. The cops on the beat were well aware of the girlfriend’s list of complaints against Zaharia over the years. Why she didn’t just pack up and get out of there—?”

  “No one understands the syndrome.”

  “I guess not. Anyway, I spent six hours interviewing Zaharia where he confessed to killing Diana. When I grilled him I pushed quite a bit about the other murders. He told me how he got the idea to blame Diana’s death on the serial killer in the news. He thought the plan was brilliant and decided he could fake us all out by sending the note to Skye Cree. He used the Internet to look you guys up, found your address, and the rest is…” Harry let his voice trail off, shrugged. “The bastard decided if you guys found the body the discovery would play into one more victim. We’d link Diana to the serial and Zaharia would get to play the grieving boyfriend and go on with his life. I guess that was his undoing.”

  “No, his undoing was not breaking up with his girlfriend like normal people do but grabbing that golf club to make his point.”

  Less than a week later the authorities found Willa Dover’s body thanks to an anonymous tip. Her remains rested on a gentle slope in Discovery Park near the south meadow bordered by straw-colored nut grass and golden buttercups. The wildlife had gotten to the body. It was so decomposed the coroner’s office couldn’t immediately tell how she’d died. Putting a name to the deceased had to be done through dental records.

  Because the killer had picked Skye as his contact initially, Harry had invited both her and Josh to sit in on a newly formed task force. Inside a conference room on the third floor of the Cherry Street police station, they listened to various reps from law enforcement—sheriff’s deputies from King, Pierce, Snohomish, and Whatcom counties—go through case files and procedures.

  “The vehicle description is a huge break. How did we obtain that?”

  Harry shot Josh a look that clearly said, “Do not bring up any paranormal crap.” The detective answered the question with his usual unruffled demeanor. “A witness reported Andrea Harkness jumped into a Jeep. And we have the surveillance video from the bank. It might be grainy but it’s an obvious side view of an older model Cherokee, which we think
means they’re connected.”

  “You think he’d actually keep the same car for two decades?”

  “Some people use older models if they intend to put a lot of miles on a car, using it like their own workhorse. My uncle has a Toyota 4Runner he’s had since 1985.”

  The chatter continued like that as members of law enforcement debated the plausibility of such a thing until Harry directed the focus back on Willa Dover. “No doubt Willa’s killer intended for the body to be found much sooner.”

  For the first time since she’d sat down, Skye waded into the discussion. “But it rained buckets for the past seven days which made for less foot traffic on the nearby hiking trail fifteen yards from where she was found.”

  “When no one came along, he took the initiative,” Josh added. “He made the anonymous call so everyone would know he’s in charge.”

  “I’m sure Skye will get another gruesome package with a taunting message pointing out how sloppy we all are,” Harry advised.

  “I read your initial report from the handout you gave us. You think there’s a connection to Joint Base Lewis-McChord. Do you think it’s significant that the killer dumped the Dover woman near historic Fort Lawton housing?”

  “Good question. But the area hasn’t been used for military in years. I think he was simply looking for the maximum effect.”

  “Or it might be symbolic,” Josh tossed out.

  Skye bobbed her head in agreement. “What I’d like to know is how he got her there.” She stood up, went to the map Harry had attached to an easel. “Not only has it been muddy for the past week, but according to the crime scene techs, there were no obvious tire tracks or footprints left around anywhere.”

  “The rain washed everything of value away.”

  “I understand that. But the trail was too narrow there for a vehicle anyway. He had to carry her a good fifty yards before picking that spot.”

  “Unless he brought her there by boat,” Josh assessed, letting that settle into their heads before he added, “The body was closer to the shore than to the road on the other side of the park near the Sound. Between the sewage treatment plant, hidden by the marsh and the lighthouse on the western most point, you’re dealing with more than five hundred acres of land.”