With Cruel Intent

by Dennis Larsen

  “Officer Guest, we believe the intruder spent a fair amount of time in the house, so the dog should be able to start with a good scent. Spend a few minutes in there and once you’re satisfied that you’ve got the scent, lets see where it leads us. Based on our first assessment of the place it looks like he must have entered from the rear, probably crossed the fields behind, and jumped the fence. Anyway, take Officer Breland with you and see what you find. Must have had a car stashed somewhere nearby. Call if you find anything or need backup.”

  “Will do boss,” the young officer said, tipping her hat and pulling on the leash, “Come on Otis, let’s catch us a bad guy.” The dog obediently followed his master, excited, obviously loving the work he did, tail bouncing from side to side in anticipation of the hunt.

  The pair entered the front door of the house, noting that nothing appeared to be in disarray. She led the dog around allowing him to smell everything that the perp could have touched. She gave him enough leeway on the leash so he could do his own exploring but not allowing him to take off on her. He moved from the living room down the hallway to the bedroom, stopping to take a minute to explore the doorknob with his sensitive snout. Entering the master bedroom he immediately went to the side of the bed where the thief had broken his toes. The dog issued a signal to the handler indicating that this was a hotspot, a strong scent there. He moved about the same room but kept returning to the side of the bed before moving into the hallway to explore the other rooms. He spent little, if any time, in the spare room, bathroom and laundry room, indicating to Officer Guest that the intruder had not entered these rooms. Otis trotted to the kitchen where he was frantic, jumping up and placing his paws on the sink area and smelling the dishes that were there, followed by a very close inspection of the table and elevated chairs. Lastly he stood by the back door smelling the doorknob and he began to growl, and then barks, in a low, deep tone that reverberated in Natalie’s chest.

  “Good boy, good boy,” she said, scratching behind his ears. The dog sat and waited further instructions, his tail still going a mile a minute.

  “Anything?” the Sheriff inquired, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Yeah, lots of hotspots, especially in the bedroom and here,” she said, pointing to the table and the sink. “I think he must have actually used the items that were washed and placed next to the sink. Do we have any word from the victim on any of this?”

  The Sheriff pulled the picture from his pocket. “Nothing from the victim, but an absolute affirmative from the intruder,“ he said, turning the picture around for the handler to inspect.

  “Okay, well Otis’s hit on the sink was accurate then. I know for sure that he entered the woman’s bedroom and must have sat down or kneeled by the side of her bed. Other than that it’s pretty obvious that he was in the living room moving the furniture and all, but I’m pretty sure that he didn’t enter any of the other rooms in the house. Otis didn’t hit on anything other than the three rooms and the hallway. I suspect as you said, that he exited the back door, Otis is really anxious to get out there and take a look.”

  “Go ahead, see where it takes you, but don’t be a hero, if you need us send for help. Check your radio with base before you get too far away,” Angelo instructed, moving back to the front of the house.

  “Hey Breland, you coming with us?” she hollered from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, yeah hold your horses, I’ll be right there,” he yelled back, pulling a shotgun from the cruiser and walking quickly to the house.

  The trio moved about the backyard catching another strong sign in the back corner where they could see the grass was matted as if someone had sat there. Otis thoroughly sniffed his way around the backspace showing particular attention to a section of the fence where the intruder had climbed over. Once they managed to find a way to the other side of the fence, the group took off at a run, as Otis bounded along the trail that led to the train tracks and beyond.

  The sound of Otis barking, hot on the trail, was scarcely audible when the forensic unit arrived complete with their on site van. Sheriff Lupo filled the technicians in on what had been done and left it to them to scour the house for clues. He also turned the picture over to the techs to receive an ID number, and then tucked it away in his shirt pocket for further scrutiny back at the office. Confident that a deputy left at the site, along with the forensics crew, could handle anything else that needed to be done, the Sheriff and other law enforcement officials at the scene returned to their duties and the Sheriff contacted Natalie on his radio.

  “Officer Guest, Sheriff Lupo here, where are you and what have you found?”

  “We’re about half a mile northwest of your location moving through some fields that lie between some of the neighborhoods over here. It looks like he didn’t take a straight line back to his vehicle but he definitely avoided any lighted areas and did not come close to any other houses. Kept to the tracks, then fields, at some point he’s got to hit the blacktop, but not yet. We’ll keep you posted,” the officer said, trying to both run with Otis and talk into her shoulder microphone at the same time.

  “You do that, if nothing turns up return to the office and issue a verbal report for me before you do your written,” he instructed.

  “Affirmative, out,” she responded.

  Once the house was processed the remaining units returned to their respective responsibilities and the search for evidence began in earnest. The Sheriff, as the head of the department, now had some difficult decisions to make. The processing of a crime scene can get expensive very quickly. Anything sent to the crime lab had a substantial bill associated with it, as well as, slowing down other investigations that may prove to be more important. On the surface, this and the previous B&E with Thelma, seemed harmless really, nothing taken, no one hurt, no damage to property, just seemed to be geared at scaring someone, and not at the time, but after the perp was safely away. Still something in the back of his mind told him there was something more to it than that, especially after looking at the malevolent picture of the thief eating his cereal. Weighing his alternatives he had his secretary call the press and arrange for a press conference the next morning, followed by a meeting of all pertinent officers, tech support, forensics and others that may have any impact on the investigation, to bring him up to speed on the crime. Based on that information and his gut feeling he would need to decide if it should be pursued beyond the normal bounds of a routine B&E.

  The press conference had gone as well as he had expected, always had to be at least one reporter that tried to press for more information than they were willing to give. “Jackass,” he thought, thinking back on the exchange. He’d returned to his office long enough to get a fresh cup of coffee and allow a few minutes for all those invited to the investigative review meeting to make their way to the conference room. Sitting at his desk, a notepad resting before him, Angelo organized his thoughts and jotted down details he wanted to discuss with the group. Leaning back in the leather chair, he looked at the pictures arrayed on the wall, his father in uniform, medals decorating his left breast. Another of his wife and two children taken when they were much younger, but it still filled his large chest with pride when he recognized how blessed he had been. He understood that nothing was more important than family and he took his oath to protect all families within his jurisdiction as a sacred covenant. Once he was confident that everyone was assembled, he checked to make sure the picture taken from the Criddle home was in his shirt pocket, picked up his coffee mug, the notepad, and headed to the meeting.

  Entering the room, a respectful silence replaced what was, a few moments ago, a circus atmosphere. Approximately 20 people were scattered around the long table that extended down the center of the room. Most stood, but a few were seated around the table, pens at the ready. Some were easily recognizable as troopers, uniforms with hats, but many were dressed much more casual, the support staff and forensics people. This was his extended family, the men and women that he loved
to serve with, he knew within his heart that he would take a bullet for any of them, and they for him, if circumstances dictated. The Sheriff’s Department was a close knit, cohesive unit that had fused together as one over the past 10 years of his leadership, they knew he expected the best from each of them and wouldn’t tolerate bullshit of any kind. He both demanded and gave respect and praise when it was worthy. The members of the department anxiously awaited his direction.

  “Thank ya’ll for coming,” he began. “We are going to take some time today to review both the cases that have fallen into our laps over the past couple of weeks involving these single ladies,” he said, pointing to the pictures of Thelma Riddle and Katherine Criddle that were thumb tacked up on a rollaway display. “I’d like to begin with what I know you are all thinking, Riddle and Criddle. Is this a joke or a random occurrence? Is he selecting his victims based on some strange last name comparison? You’ll note I said individual rather than group, I believe this to be the work of one man based on the evidence that I’ve seen. Anyone think otherwise?” he asked the group. No one offered an alternative theory. “Good, so back to the names, any thoughts?”

  “Sheriff, we did some checking yesterday afternoon on the backgrounds of both of the victims. There is absolutely nothing that links them. They don’t know each other, never met, don’t attend the same church, don’t shop at the same stores, have different circle of friends. There was nothing we could find, at least to date, other than the fact that they live within a few miles of each other and that could just be random as well,” one of the investigators offered.

  “Good. I’ve done some thinking on this myself and I think we need to consider a couple more things. Both women were single, had no steady boyfriends, no children, no pets, owned their own homes, we shouldn’t overlook the obvious just because they didn’t know one another. Does anyone else have any ideas on how he selected these two women? Did he just go to the phonebook and randomly pick these locations or did he pick the women first?” the Sheriff stood, waiting for a reply.

  An answer came by way of the smallest person present, “I believe he must have a criteria that he’s sticking to. First, he picks a house based on the entry. Is it dark and secluded, does it have fairly easy access from the back without any other homes close by? Then once that satisfies him he does his homework on the victim. For what he wants to do he has to have lots of time, doesn’t want to be interrupted. I mean, for God’s sake, he sat down and ate a bowl of cereal in the woman’s kitchen while she slept in the next room. So no kids, no pets, no boyfriends, no unexpected surprises, no pesky neighbors and he’s smart, real smart. He knows dogs too. He ran us around in circles for the better part of two hours yesterday trying to get old Otis to lose his scent, and he finally succeeded, but we estimate that he parked the car within a three-mile radius, probably in an alley somewhere. We have plans to go do some interviews this afternoon with some of the late night establishments in that northwest quadrant. If that’s okay with you Sheriff?" Officer Guest requested.

  He liked her eagerness. “Yup, do what ya gotta do. I think, Natalie here, is right. The only way I see the two names as a common denominator is, if in fact, these are total pranks done by somebody with a sick sense of humor. I’d like the public to believe that for now. But as far as we are concerned we are going to move ahead with the assumption that there is something more sinister at work here. Officer Guest mentioned the photo, has everyone seen it?” Several of the officers indicated that they had not, so Angelo passed it around. “Much like the first photo, same camera it’s been confirmed, less of his face visible this time around, but the portion showing is much more detailed due to the better lighting. He was careful to demonstrate for us what he was up to. I expect that’s some power trip or some kind of a taunt directed at us. Note the black face paint, possible ex-military or survivalist, somebody check that angle. Any more thoughts on how or why he’s choosing these victims?” No one spoke up.

  “Okay let’s move on. We heard from Ms. Criddle this morning and she confirmed there was nothing missing from the home and nothing in her bedroom appeared to be moved and no underwear tampered with. This is different from the first. You will recall that he actually put her intimates on and took the picture with the victim in the adjacent bed. This changed with Katherine, however, we know that he entered the victim's bedroom here, as well, due to the dog evidence. Why risk that, if it’s not to deliver the same shock value as he did with the first event?” again the Sheriff looked about for any takers on the question.

  A senior deputy with a graying handlebar mustache and thick sideburns offered a thought, “It’s a power trip right? Perhaps he likes to feel like he can do whatever he wants to while in their homes but doesn’t have the balls to carry it any further, other than just being there, seeing them and taking these pictures.” As an afterthought he continued, “Hell, maybe that’s what he was doing by the side of her bed, maybe he was taking more pictures.” Proud of what he’d contributed, he reached up, stroked the mustache and smiled at his associates.

  “That’s a good thought,” Natalie said, giving the mustached deputy thumbs up. “Why go to all this trouble without some sort of trophy? He doesn’t take anything, maybe that’s because what he takes he’s already brought with him.”

  “I’m apt to agree with both of these officers,” 'The Wolf' declared retrieving the picture after it had made the rounds. “He certainly won’t be having these developed in the local Fotomart or online, so he must have a color printer and computer that will do the work for him. Breland, will you do some checking today with the computer suppliers in town and see if anyone has recently purchased what they’d need to make this happen? Something concerns me with what my buddy at the back said there a minute ago. He said, ‘he doesn’t have the courage to carry it any further’, that’s what really bothers me about this case. If he’s a serial, and I believe our perp is, we have to assume that his behavior will escalate. It’s just a matter of how fast, where, when, and in what magnitude. When you can answer these questions for me I’d like to talk with you all further.”

  The meeting lasted another 90 minutes with ideas and suggestions bantered about. The forensics people had not had much time yet to review what they had, but they were able to collect a number of fiber samples from the site that looked like they didn’t belong there. There were no prints, other than those of Katie, and the dishes had been washed clean. They were able to determine that he had used some kind of plastic sheets to move the furniture, as small trace samples had been pressed into the carpet, but the sheets themselves must have been brought and taken by the perpetrator. They agreed with Officer Guest, he was bright and knew what he was doing, very little evidence and he’d done this before and not just once but many times. Too slick and too well practiced to do what he was able to do without the owner having a clue.

  “Okay, let’s wrap this up ladies and gentlemen; we’ve got lots to work on. I want you to focus on a few things that we’ve highlighted today. First, we need to figure out how he’s getting access without any signs of forced entry. Both victims think they locked their doors, but this is Georgia so we can’t be sure, but let’s assume that they did, so he’s getting keys somewhere. Maybe he works at a hardware store and is making duplicates or something. Breland or Arnold, check with the victims to see if either one has had new keys made in the past year. Secondly, I want to know this psycho’s agenda, any ideas I want them brought to me right away. Now people we have more than this case to deal with but I want everyone to be vigilant and let’s follow this one through. Does anyone have anything further before we break for the day? I’ll be heading this one up myself so address any issues to myself or Arlene at the desk.”

  A hand shot up at the back, Ricky Dean, the most senior of the forensic department stepped forward, making it easier to address the large man. Ricky was not a big man himself, only about five and a half feet tall, receding hairline, full mustache but in excellent shape for being almost 60. He w
as one of those guys that knew a little bit about everything and could fix anything he put his mind to. Whenever anything broke down at the Sheriff’s Office, Rick was the first one called, whether auto, equipment, or guns, he could fix it all.

  “Sheriff, I was a thinking, ever since I stepped into that living room that I had seen something like that before, you know like a copycat. It ate at me most of the night and I asked my sweetheart about it and she pegged it right away, The Manson Family out there in California ‘bout 40 years ago. You remember, the Helter Skelter stuff, they made a movie and there was a book I believe. Anyway, after they killed those people they wrote stuff on the walls in their blood. Now that’s not that strange, we’ve seen that even here in Valdosta, but the thing that put it together for me was the furniture. Something about that bugged me, so I got online today and did some research and they did that too. The Manson Family used to go out at night and break into people’s homes and move their furniture around, not for any other reason than to just freak them out when they woke up. Just like our perp is doing here, don’t you think? They called it ‘Creepy Crawling’, kind of gives me the creeps just thinking about it,” Rick explained before moving to the back of the room and out of the limelight.

  “Good work, Rick. Will you further that idea of the ‘Creepy Crawling’ and see if there is anything more we need to know about that and any connection we might have to this Manson Family? I’m not aware of any followers living here but let’s be sure. Okay people look sharp; let’s get ‘er done,” the Sheriff concluded, returning to his office, picking up a fresh cup of coffee on the way.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN