We scoured the ground beneath the shrubbery and three feet out beyond the window with no luck. It didn’t help that Houston hadn’t had a recent rainfall.
I jerked my head toward the house. “Let’s tell forensics what we’ve found in the bathroom, guest room, and out here. They can take over. I want to walk the trail directly behind the houses. According to the satellite imagery, the trail dumps back out onto the street a few blocks away.”
After updating forensics on what we’d found, J.T. and I headed into the woods. We walked the trail directly behind the houses, our eyes focused on the ground. With the indigenous trees dropping their leaves this time of year, finding any evidence on the path was nearly impossible. We ended at the street fifteen minutes later with nothing to show for our work but a nice walk in the park. We hadn’t found anything unusual on the ground, if that was indeed the route the perp took. We walked back to the house and entered the master bedroom, where Mark Fellenz still lay on the bed.
“Wow, I thought I’d seen everything,” J.T. said as he leaned in and stared at the severed hands on the bed. He lifted the sheet and read the word ‘murderer’ carved on Mark’s abdomen.
The scene was bloody, gruesome, and definitely overkill. Reading the police reports from the previous three victims told me those also were horrific scenes, but being up close and personal with this one put an entirely different light on the brutality of the crime.
Dave entered the room. “Have you ever—”
I interrupted him. “Yeah, actually I have, but you never get used to it.” I clicked off a few pictures.
Dave smirked. “Now you’re moonlighting as a crime lab tech?”
I turned and shot him a frown. “Isn’t there something you need to do, Dave? I doubt if Agent Tam sent you along just to critique what I’m doing.”
He walked away, and I continued to snap pictures.
J.T. chuckled. “You aren’t going to score any points with him.”
“Not trying to. I’m actually more interested in doing my job. We aren’t going to get anything from forensics today, but Agent Tam wants a report from us. The pictures will help me get into the killer’s head.” I tucked my cell phone back into my pocket. “Let’s see if everyone is ready to head back. It’s after lunchtime already.”
J.T. checked in with SSA Spelling in Milwaukee and updated him on the case as we made our way back to the Houston field office. Dave pulled into a drive-through restaurant and placed four identical orders. We ate during the drive back.
At one o’clock, we filed into the conference room and took our seats. I flipped through the photos in my phone gallery as we waited for Agent Tam to arrive. The footprint impression on the bath rug and the shoe mark on the outside wall somehow felt off to me.
With my hand cupping the right side of my mouth, I whispered to J.T., “What size shoe do you wear?”
He grinned. “You’re a weird one, Monroe, but I wear a size twelve. Why?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Narrow, medium, or wide?”
“Medium, I guess. I don’t have to special order shoes. I buy them right off the shelf.”
“Don’t you think those shoe prints on the wall and the impression on the bath rug look narrower and a bit shorter than a normal-sized man’s foot?” I handed J.T. my phone so he could look at the photos again.
“You may have a point. The wall could go either way, but there’s an entire print on that rug. I’m sure forensics can do a quick comparison of foot sizes before they get too deep into everything else. What do you think the rug size was, two feet by three feet?”
I thought back. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” My mental image was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
Agent Tam walked in and greeted us for the second time that day. She was tough and didn’t beat around the bush, no sugarcoating anything.
“Let’s go. Who has something?” She looked from face to face.
Surprisingly, Bruce Starks, the normally quiet one, caught her attention.
“Go ahead, Bruce.” Agent Tam took a seat and scooted in her chair.
“Based on the evidence at the scene, my opinion is the killer is a white male, possibly in his mid-thirties. He’s strong enough to overpower his victims even though he has used stun guns to help subdue them. He’s aggressive and hunts these people like prey. A risk taker. He’s focused enough to lay out his plan and implement it to perfection every time. The latest victim, Mark Fellenz, was a cement mixer, the second person in that type of trade, and worked at Ready-Pour according to our interview with the neighbor. The perp could have been fired from his job and is going after individuals that may have had a beef with his work ethic or personality. He has a short fuse and is easily agitated. His trigger may be the loss of a job, which actually gives him the freedom to follow his victims around any time day or night.”
Agent Tam nodded. “That makes sense, Bruce, thank you. Anyone else?”
J.T. thumbed the side of my leg under the table, making me wince, which caught Agent Tam’s attention.
“Jade, were you going to add something?”
I looked from her face to Bruce’s. “I’m sorry, but I have to disagree with Agent Starks. The loss of a job at a cement company wouldn’t have anything to do with Beverly Grant. A cinder block was found at the scene of her murder too, which indicates it’s the same killer. There isn’t a job connection there. The trigger has to be something else.”
“If you have an idea other than the one Agent Starks has, I want to hear it. Go ahead.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, this isn’t my first rodeo. Yes, I recently became an FBI agent, but I have a lot of experience with different types of killers, including women.”
“Women?”
“Yes, ma’am. Granted, statistics say women make up just ten percent of all murderers. Women also act on emotion, especially if the trigger is something close to their heart. I’d picture a murderer that was fired from their job as somebody who would go in with guns blazing, as in the catchphrase of going postal.” I took a sip of water and gathered my thoughts. “Women are usually more calculating if the reason is personal and if they’re seeking retribution. I took several pictures at the victim’s home earlier because I knew we wouldn’t hear anything from the forensic team by the time this meeting took place. A still-damp impression of a bare foot was on the bathroom rug. It seemed narrower and shorter than what one would expect from the six-foot-two, two-hundred-ten-pound Mark Fellenz.”
Agent Tam raised her brows as if in question and leaned hard against the back of her chair. “How do you know his height and weight?”
“Mark’s open wallet was on the kitchen counter, and his driver’s license was inside, behind the plastic sleeve. I took a look. I’m sure the crime lab can compare the foot size on the rug to Mark’s foot size. They could even estimate the imprint’s size by the length and width of the bath rug.”
I slid my phone across the table to Agent Tam. She picked it up and looked closely.
“The next picture is of a shoe impression on the wall outside a guest room window. We believe that’s how the perp gained entrance to the house. Forensics can easily compare the tread pattern to any shoes owned by Mark Fellenz.”
She swiped her index finger across the screen.
“In my personal opinion, Agent Tam, I’d say the killer is a female in her thirties, married, doesn’t work outside the house, is tall, possibly six feet, and strong. She has a very personal reason for targeting each of these people individually, and she snapped. This is a revenge killing, nothing more, caused by a recent tragedy or an anniversary of a heart-wrenching event. I believe that’s her trigger.”
Agent Tam looked over the notes she had jotted down from each of our profiles. “Two very different scenarios, indeed, and they both make sense. Did you point out everything you found to the forensic team, Jade?”
“Agent Harper took care of that, ma’am. As soon as our meeting is finished here, I’m going to go downtow
n to the PD headquarters and pay the forensic team and the coroner a visit. If anything, they can easily compare the foot size of Mr. Fellenz to the footprint on the rug. It’s something to start with. I can go back to the house myself and see if any of his shoes match that tread pattern too.”
“Good idea.” She jerked her head toward J.T. “Go along with Jade. Bruce and Dave, I want you to gather the names of everyone that has been fired from those two cement companies or trades related to hardscapes in the past year. We need to start looking for lawsuit claims that were denied or dismissed for the same industry, especially brought on by women. We’ve got to narrow this down so we have something to tell the PD. We’ll have a final meeting at four o’clock.” She slapped her hands together. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 15
The phone rang and woke her. Jordan hadn’t planned to sleep so long, but she forgot to set the alarm when she went back to bed. She looked at the screen—Kent was calling.
Now what do you want?
She cleared her throat before she picked up. “Hello.”
“What took you so long to answer?”
“Gee, I don’t know, Kent. I guess the phone wasn’t glued to my body. What’s up?”
“Nothing new. I just wanted to tell you I made it to New Orleans safely. The storm that caused all the wind yesterday veered off and headed north. The drive was uneventful.”
“Good to know.”
“I’ll be back sometime Sunday.”
“So you’ve said. Anything else?”
“Yes, take your meds.” He paused and waited for a response. “Jordan?”
“Yeah, I heard you. Goodbye.”
She clicked off, got out of bed, and followed the hallway to the kitchen. There, she made a pot of coffee and a sandwich for lunch. Jordan placed a mat under her plate, set the cup of coffee to her right, and pulled out the kitchen chair. She sat and read over her notes then checked the time on her cell phone—four hours left before she’d leave for that appointment with victim number five. She browsed the Internet as she ate and found images of the tools he’d have readily available in his studio. After perusing the landscape architect’s website and personal biography, she realized he too was a single man, and her approach for getting into his house was as simple as setting up an appointment to see 3D landscape renderings on his studio computer. Luckily, in the past, Myron Dormin had never met her. His landscape designs were all approved by Kent. The appointment was set for five thirty that day, and she’d have Myron all to herself.
Chapter 16
I was sure anybody that had sued a bricklayer, cement maker, or anyone in the hardscape trades would be listed on the circuit court website for Harris County. It was a good place to start, and we’d get to that as soon as we returned from the police department.
Once we arrived downtown, J.T. and I checked in with the desk sergeant, Lynn Allen, showed our credentials, and asked where we’d find the specific departments we were looking for.
“Both the forensic lab and the coroner’s offices are on the lower level. Follow that right hallway”—she pointed—“and you’ll find a stairway that will take you down to their offices. There’s an arrow at the bottom of the stairs that will show you which way to go.”
I thanked her, and we turned at the right hallway and found the steps to the lower level. According to the arrow, the forensic lab was to our left and the coroner’s office to our right.
“Want to buddy up or go in individually?” J.T. asked.
“Let’s each take a department so we get out of here faster. I’ll take forensics, you can have the coroner. All we really need from the coroner is an inked print of Mark’s foot. The forensics lab can compare it to the indention on the rug.”
“Okay, I’ll tell them forensics is waiting for it. Maybe they’ll do it right away if that’s the case.”
We parted ways at the bottom of the stairs, and I headed left. I entered through the double glass doors that had Forensics Lab written across them in black text.
The team leader, Rachel Fry, glanced my way and gave me a smile of recognition.
“Agent Monroe, what can we do for you?”
I didn’t want to sound like I was telling them how to do their jobs, but finding out this information was urgent, and it would eliminate the need to search for a male suspect. I put on a friendly ‘not here to tell you what to do’ face and asked for her immediate assistance.
She took a seat on one of the roller stools and folded her hands in her lap. “Sure, what can we do to help?”
“At the moment, I only need one thing, and it’s rather urgent. It will steer our investigation in the right direction so there won’t be any time wasted. I believe that damp foot impression on the bath rug belongs to a woman, not Mark Fellenz. He was a large, solid man, and I’d think his weight would have caused a deeper, longer, and wider impression. I hope you guys scaled that print with a ruler when you photographed it.”
“I wasn’t actually the person that photographed it, Jeff did, but that is protocol.”
I followed Rachel across the room to Jeff’s station. He was sorting through evidence. I re-introduced myself and told him what I needed.
“Sure thing. I just downloaded all of the evidence photographs from the camera to my computer a few minutes ago.” He pointed at a roller stool. “Have a seat.”
I sat next to Jeff as he wiggled the computer mouse, pointed the curser at the file he needed, and double clicked. A file consisting of nearly one hundred photos popped up. “Wow, you guys are thorough. That’s good to know.”
“So, we’re looking for the bathroom photo with the imprint on the rug?”
“That’s correct.” I leaned in while he scanned the rows of pictures left to right. “There they are,” I said as I pointed at the pale blue rug on the bathroom floor.
“Yeah, good thing we did scale it. The blue rug almost washes out the image once it’s on the computer.” Jeff moved the zoom bar to the right and enlarged the picture. “Give me just a minute, please.” He crossed the room and picked up a telephone on the nearest desk. “Hey, Marty, do me a favor and measure the length of Mark Fellenz’s right foot. Sure, call me back.” He returned to the computer and sat down. “The assistant medical examiner is going to measure Mark’s foot length. I guess he was in the process of doing it already. One of your agents is in there asking for it.” The left side of his lip curled up in a grin. “Double teaming us?”
“Sorry, but it’s urgent.”
“No worries. Oddly enough, most people tend to think women’s feet are just a smaller version of men’s feet, but they’re actually very different. The distance from the heel to the ball of a man’s foot is longer than a woman’s, and the width of their feet is greater across the ball region. Women tend to have a higher instep, making their feet look narrower in that area. Once you know the difference, it’s easy to spot.”
Jeff’s comment reminded me of how the male and female pelvic bones were explained to me months back by a crew helping us with an investigation at a farm where human remains were found. Once we saw the difference between them, we would instantly know which were male and which were female.
The phone on the desk rang, and Rachel picked it up.
“Thanks, Marty, I’ll let Jeff know.” She walked over and told us that Mark’s foot was eleven inches long and four and a half inches wide.
Jeff scooted in his chair and looked at the evidence photograph again. “According to the ruler on the photograph, this footprint is about nine by four. Granted, the rug will cause a certain degree of miscalculation, but I’d say with almost certainty that the footprint belonged to a woman. Plus, Mark was found in bed. If he had showered the night before, he would have likely walked over the rug several more times before going to sleep, and it wouldn’t be damp anymore.”
“You’re absolutely right. Thanks, Jeff. There’s the shoeprint on the outer wall of the house too. Has anyone compared the tread pattern to Mark’s shoes?”
&n
bsp; “Not yet, but we did photograph every shoe in the house. The width of that print leans more toward a woman too, that much I’m sure of.”
“Could I take a look at those photographs? It will save me time by not having to go out to the house again.”
“Yeah, I’ll pull up that folder.”
“One more thing, Jeff. Would you mind making your determination official?”
“As in writing it down on paper?”
“Please?”
“Sure, I’ll have Rachel do that, no problem.”
“Awesome, thanks.” I called J.T.’s cell and told him to come into the forensics lab. We had photos to review.
After ten minutes of comparing the print on the outer wall to the eight pair of shoes in Mark’s house, we were absolutely certain none matched. We thanked Rachel and Jeff again. I slipped the official document with the forensic team leader’s opinion of the footprint into my purse, and we left for the field office. I needed Agent Tam on board so we could focus on the right killer—a woman.
We found Dave and Bruce in the computer lab, talking on their phones. We told them the opinion of the forensic team and suggested we have a quick meeting with Agent Tam to give her the news. Bruce looked hurt.
“Bruce, this isn’t personal. We’re trained to weed out and apprehend serial killers. The gender is irrelevant. If the footprint evidence hadn’t been staring us right in the face, we would have assumed the killer was a man too. We all need to be on the same page with this.”
“You’re right, Jade. We aren’t trained as thoroughly as you guys are in this particular field. Let’s have a quick powwow with the boss so we can get back to work.”
I led the way upstairs to the conference room. Dave called Agent Tam’s cell and told her we had news. She was on her way.
Within five minutes, Michelle Tam entered the room and stood at the head of the table. “Let’s hear it, and I hope it’s something we can work with.”
I pulled the folded document out of my purse, stood, and leaned across the table. “Here you go, ma’am. I think this says it all. I’d like every one of us to be working together and agree on the person we’re searching for. We have to put together the correct profile if we ever want to catch this killer. Personal opinions need to be set aside for now.”
Snapped: An Agent Jade Monroe FBI Thriller Book 1 Page 8