by CC Dragon
My brain snapped back to last night. I remembered that teaching sounded like a better conclusion. Logic told me I shouldn’t be too hasty in either direction. This case wasn’t exactly going well, but I couldn’t walk away. Matt wouldn’t be happy to see me, unless I had the killer in the Jeep.
He’d get over it.
The second crime scene was every bit as disturbing as the first. Even more for me, because I hadn’t seen it in time to prevent it. Now I was determined to get this killer with or without ghostly help.
I nodded to a uniformed officer I recognized as I stood in the doorway. Matt took one look at me and shook his head. “Who called you?”
“No one.” I rolled my eyes and walked in the house. “The victim’s name is Tina Price.”
“There is no evidence that this is the same killer. Different MO.” Matt pointed a warning finger at me.
“Same guy.” I walked into the Tinkerbelle-themed room where it’d happened. Matt followed.
“No, there’s just a tiny amount of blood this time.” He pointed to the pillow where Tink’s winking face and wings were now slightly dried blood-red, a very creepy color. “Could be a simple kidnapping.”
“It’s not.”
“The girl wasn’t home alone. The babysitter put her to bed about nine and never heard a thing.”
“The babysitter was a teenager.” Darren and Warren weren’t into those sorts of details.
“Of course.”
“She had music going on her IPod, bet her earbuds were in. Of course she didn’t hear anything. She’s why the killer didn’t stay and do what he did last time. He broke the girl’s neck in her sleep and took her away. No fuss, no noise, and just enough blood to let you know something happened.”
“Which means she might still be alive. We’ve got teams out looking. Maybe she got away.”
“She isn’t alive. Did you miss the broken neck part of my sentence? You’ll find more blood in the shed.” Darren’s actions were replaying in my head like a movie in slow motion. A horror movie.
“And the body?” Matt asked.
“You know how he likes to drive around and find the right spot to bury them. He won’t go to the same place this time. He knows we found the first girl.”
“I can’t tell the family this,” he whispered.
“Ask them if she had a doll like the first girl’s.” I knew it wouldn’t make sense to him but that was the key piece of evidence they’d need to link it all.
“A doll? You think the guy has a thing for dolls?” Matt looked at me like I’d lost it.
“You found a doll buried with the first girl, didn’t you?” I pointed out.
“So, the girl had the doll in her arms when he took her off in too much of a hurry to care.”
“Please, he practically drained her of blood in her bed. He could’ve left the doll, it’s not like she could’ve put up a fight. Besides, if you find a doll is missing here, then you’ve got a connection, don’t you?”
“That might prove it’s the same guy.”
“Better to focus on one guy out there than split time and resources trying find a phantom second. One killer on the loose is enough.” I glanced around the room at the girl’s toys. There were lots of dolls of all kinds. “Do you have a picture of the doll from Little Cel?”
“Back at the station.”
“Bring it and ask them about it. Can’t hurt to see if their daughter had a similar doll.”
“It wasn’t a Barbie. What are the odds they’d have the same doll?” Matt wasn’t convinced.
“Not the exact same doll but the same style. Hair, eyes, dress are different colors but the shape and design is the same. It’s really weird.”
“You said it, I didn’t. I’ll bring it back in the morning. I don’t want to influence them. Today we need them to inventory and see what was taken.”
“Just the doll.” I didn’t need an inventory.
The family would still have to go through it and some poor babysitter would be questioned as well. They were no use to me. There was no reason for me to bother them. They didn’t do it, they knew nothing and I wanted to put effort toward something that might help. If I could find it.
“He’s still driving a white pickup?” Matt asked.
“Yes. You haven’t caught him yet, he doesn’t even know you’re looking for him or that type of car so why would he switch?”
“Any criminal with a brain would change cars. Let me know if he does.”
“He’s not that smart. He’s crazy. I think he wants to be stopped.”
“Then his methods don’t make sense. We got no prints from the last house, no hair or blood or skin of anyone unusual in the house. We got nothing. He even takes the body.” Matt wasn’t buying the wanted-to-get-caught theory.
But to me that was all that made sense. “I think he might have a fixation.”
“He’s not a pedophile. We checked the first body. No indication of anything like that.”
“I told you that much the first night.” I rolled my eyes at him. Matt was willing to listen but he didn’t completely believe me yet.
“So what’s he fixated on?” Matt huffed.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Not yet anyway. We need to find him. He’s really nuts.” Telling Matt that Darren was obsessed with his dead sister’s dolls would not win me any points.
“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Oscar, PhD?” he mocked.
“Certifiably.” I smiled back. “You want me to find him, not cure him.” Darren wasn’t playing with a full deck. Not that I would use that term in front of a patient, but shrinks were people too. Nuts was nuts.
The guy’s mind was a pinball machine with nothing but confusing flashes thanks to Warren’s influence. When I could make any sense of things, they were seemingly pointless images like the road, the bayou and the truck. Nothing I could use to further things yet.
“Give me a little time. I’m not sure you can use what I have.” I wanted to be sure this was the right direction.
“Is he done?” Matt asked.
“Nope,” I sighed. “But I’m getting closer.”
“Closer to what?”
“Figuring out his mind. Everyone’s mind is like a maze, your own thought process and priorities. No two people process information the same way.”
“I don’t care if he’s wired for HBO. Just find him.”
“For what you want, I need to get more comfortable in his head to make sense of it. Like you said, he’s crazy. That makes it tricky.” Trickier even more because Warren liked to interfere and mess up everything. He was the one I had to get a hold of, but how?
“I’m going to have to rerun your credentials. Are you sure you’re a PhD? Sounds weird to me.” Matt didn’t mean it but I didn’t care if he did.
“Go ahead. This has nothing to do with psychology right now. You have no hard evidence to draw a conclusion on a suspect, except for my stuff. The psychic stuff.”
“I got a profiler from the local FBI office to work up our guy.” Matt patted his breast pocket under the official jacket.
“Sure, white, male eighteen to twenty-five, lives alone and has depressive or loner tendencies. Drives an older truck or sports car. Single or divorced. Am I close?” I grinned.
“Yeah.” He frowned. “He called you?”
“No,” I scoffed.
“You read my mind?”
“Please, that’s cheating. And boring.”
“So?” He crossed his arms. Men really didn’t like it when you showed them up.
“You got a FBI-trained profiler to do a standard profile. Generic, yes, but probably at least fifty percent accurate because it’s so vague. I had to write some myself for some criminal psych classes. I’ll be I have more credentials than your profiler.”
“You’re not saying it’s wrong?”
“No. He probably also said the suspect had a troubled childhood or family problems with possible abuse or neglect. That’s all complete
ly true but you won’t get detail or a name from that stuff. You’ll have better luck with my info.”
“Like what?”
“The truck. I told you the make, approximate age and the paint color. They couldn’t. I can tell you this man has never in his life lived alone, though he may want to. He’s under twenty-one years old and he doesn’t trust anyone alive. I gave you his name.”
“You’re still sure. White?” He adjusted his large belt as though taking the weight he’d been throwing around back for a second.
“The truck or the guy?” Two could play semantic games.
“The guy.” He threw up his hands.
“He’s white, pale white for living in the South. Had two siblings, both dead in childhood. Parents have moved away. Darren Gordon has nothing to lose. We have to get him.” I walked toward the door of the room. There was nothing more to look at now.
“Don’t throw that name around, okay?” Matt came closer and glanced around the room. “You’ve got nothing to link this guy to the crimes yet. The press is snooping around for info. Seriously, do you think we’ll manage to catch him before he kills again?”
I had a feeling but reminded myself that no one was one hundred percent. The ghosts weren’t helping and Warren was sneaky.
“Probably.” I sounded confident but noncommittal. It was the best I could do for now.
“You get anything more, you let me know.” He wagged a finger at me.
“You too but I’ll know anyway. Call me when you find out about the doll. I might have something you can use by then.” I smiled and left.
Chapter Twelve
I went home and crashed. I slept for hours to recover from last night’s travels and woke to the endless ringing of the phone. My ears weren’t grateful, but I knew I wanted to take the call.
“Damn it,” Matt grouched in my ear.
“Doll?” I asked.
“Doll,” he confirmed. “Who made these?”
“You’ve got one in evidence, see for yourself. They were handmade by the suspect’s mother for his little sister.”
“Anything new?” he asked.
“No, he’s just driving. Didn’t bury her yet.”
“Freak.”
“Or he’s waiting for things to calm down and see where we looked already.”
“What for?” Matt didn’t like coming to me for answers. I couldn’t blame him.
“Do you search the same place twice?” I knew where Darren wanted to bury her but he hadn’t done it just yet.
“Not normally. Unless we’re revisiting for a specific reason.”
“I never said he was stupid. You search one area, clear out and a few hours later he can be there. Nice and safe. I think he’s playing a real cat-and-mouse game.”
“I thought he wanted to be caught.”
“He does, but not all the time. The guy was in a mental hospital. There’s another influence that makes him watch his step. It’s complicated. Darren is very conflicted.” Matt would believe me about Warren, sure. I’d be the one in a padded cell and straightjacket.
“Are you making this shit up?” Matt growled at me. “What’s he got, two personalities?”
“I wish it were that simple, but that’s a good way to think about him for now. I could write a paper on this guy. He wants to stop but then he can’t. He feels relief when he kills, but then remorse enough to bury the body.”
“You got something concrete?”
“I’ll meet you at the station in an hour.” I put the phone back and pulled the file out of the drawer.
The file was illegal, but the newspaper articles from the library weren’t as far as I knew. One article was on Warren’s accidental death. The police didn’t need to know that the other one on Karen’s death was from his medical file. That stuff was all public information.
I hopped out of bed and quickly ran a brush through my hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the pen and pad of paper from the night before had slipped under the bed. I’d never even checked to see how nice my scribbles looked this time.
I recapped the pen and put it back on the nightstand and then grabbed the paper, expecting scribbles. I was wrong.
This time it’d worked! The words were slanted oddly, not my usual writing at all, but it was legible and there. Finally, I’d gotten something right!
I put the pad in the drawer for safekeeping and shoved on my boots. I grabbed the two articles and put them in a blank envelope. As I picked up my keys, Gran appeared at the edge of the bed.
“Sorry I missed you,” she said.
“That’s okay. I’m a little busy right now. Can we talk later?”
“I want to explain some things. I didn’t want you to learn about the plan and things from others. You were busy enough with this.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “It’s not your fault. I got pushy with Karen and Little Cel. I know you have your rules, but I have to try whatever I can. I’m here, on this side with no real plan. All I can do is try.”
“I know. But you’re not alone.”
“I couldn’t stop this second murder but maybe now I have enough real evidence to get a warrant on Darren. Maybe I can stop the third girl from dying.”
“I need to tell you something, De.” She stared at me as though she understood my struggle. No encouragement or confirmation.
“I have to go. I’ll see you later. We can talk then, okay?” Gran already told me she couldn’t help so I had to do what I thought was best.
I left the room and went straight outside to the Jeep. Pausing for a moment, I had the feeling something wasn’t quite right. I felt bad about rushing out on Gran. That had to be it. But she had all the time in the world and the next girl didn’t. I’d apologize later.
I flew to the police station without directions. I parked the Jeep and headed inside the station.
Matt saw me and waved me in. At his desk, I saw Little Cel’s doll caked in mud and secured in an evidence bag. A severe chill went through me. “Creepy, aren’t they?”
“They’re proof enough we’ve got a serial killer on the loose. But it doesn’t prove Darren did any of it. St. Luke’s reported no violent incidents while he was there. You’ve got nothing.” He gave me a smug palms-up.
“I know Darren wasn’t violent in the institution but there’s more to it. I looked up Darren and there is a connection to the dolls. Too bad I don’t have a computer to Google him. You might try that.”
“What can you get from Google? A story on his case at most. His medical file is not admissible. No judge, not even my little brother who’s got a thing for stubborn women, would give us a warrant for him based on that.” Matt held up his hands in absolute rejection of the idea.
“I admire your ethics. If we did use his file, any decent lawyer could get him off on bad procedures, I’m sure. I don’t want that to happen. But newspapers are okay, right?” I sat down uninvited.
“Like stories?” he asked.
“And pictures.”
“Sure, if you can make a clear link.”
I produced the two articles, Warren’s first and then Karen’s. The dolls were in the final piece of Karen’s article. The loving treasures of a girl whose life was cut tragically short by mental illness in the family. The last line was a bit melodramatic for a news story, but I’d take it. The girl died, the dolls were hers, and Darren did it.
“Well?” I asked when he was done reading.
“Hmm.” He looked at the faded copy of the picture again. “Kind of fuzzy.”
“I think the dolls are unique enough to be recognizable. And the article says they were handmade by the mother. I’m sure you could track her down and get her to identify them.”
“Possibly. But I still have to get this by the judge.” Matt shook his head. “No, you’ll have to do it.”
“Me? That’s crazy.”
“Relax. The warrant will be for the police to catch him not some psychic. But if you want to work with the police and be taken seriously,
you’ll need to make nice with the judges.” Matt patted the air like I was hysterical.
“I am nice. But I haven’t applied for a job that I know of. I just want to help, if I can.” I wasn’t interested in political pleasantries or red tape.
“You’re involved now, and we don’t just let anyone off the streets wander onto crime scenes and talk to victims’ families.”
“You’d have nothing if it weren’t for me,” I reminded him.
“I know but the judges are still the final word. Most of them are okay but some are a bit squirrelly about having psychics working on cases. We’ll start with my brother. You already met him and the other judges respect him. Good start. First, I’ll need these.” Matt put the articles in the case file.
“No, those are mine from Gran’s library. You can have copies. Or you could get them on the computer, probably better picture quality too.” I folded my arms and waited until Matt went over and copied the articles. He gave me the originals back.
“Happy?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’ve got a big library to keep there. All I need are the ghosts staging a revolt because something went missing.”
“That place gives me the creeps. Everyone knows it’s haunted. There have been all kinds of reports of windows opening and closing on their own. A woman walking the grounds in a maid’s uniform. Elinor talking to people who aren’t there.”
“They’re there, you just can’t see them. And the ghost in the maid’s uniform would be the maid, Missy.”
“You hired a maid?”
“No, she’s a ghost. Very cheap labor, and I’m guessing nearly impossible to fire. Gran comes around too.” I leaned back in the stiff plastic chair.
“You two psychics sit around and drink tea?” he scoffed.
“No, ghosts don’t need to drink. She comes by to talk, check up on me. That’s all.”
“I’d have a heart attack.”
“I’ll feel a lot better once we get our hands on all four dolls and two more live girls. Darren isn’t going to stop.” I didn’t mention that Warren made matters worse. Matt wouldn’t care about a ghost. He couldn’t put it behind bars.