by D. K. Hood
“Hmm, he does have a superior intellect. I guess that’s why he spent so much time working for—” She stopped speaking mid-sentence and glanced up at Kane; her cheeks pinked and she coughed. “The local hospital.”
Dear Lord, Wolfe had told her he once worked for the government and she nearly blurted it out in front of Webber. He said the first lie to come to his mind to cover her lapse in judgment. “Yeah, he told me, and as a computer programmer, I believe?”
“Yes. That’s right.” Emily gave him a sideways glance then stared straight ahead.
The smell of the morgue drifted toward them with each step along the stark-white passageway. It had its own unique odor of chemicals and death. The air extractors were working overtime but as Emily pushed through the door, the stink hit him full force. Inside it was cold, very cold, like stepping into a refrigerator, and he figured the temperature was low to slow down the decomposition of the bodies. He pulled a face mask from his pocket and jammed it over his nose.
Wolfe lifted his blond head from a microscope as they entered, then straightened.
“Ah, good. I want to get John Doe back on ice. The smell is getting a bit overwhelming even for me in here.”
Kane’s stomach gave a backflip at the sight of the two gurneys covered with white sheets, and the memory of the scattered half-eaten limbs and Bailey’s staring eyes flashed into his memory. He pushed the images into the dark recesses of his mind and moved his attention back to Wolfe. “Could you get a cause of death from the mess we found?”
“As a matter of fact, I discovered quite a few interesting facts.” Wolfe pulled back the sheet on the reassembled remains of John Doe. “I’ll explain but first, I found three different blood samples. It is very unusual to find three different blood groups in a group of one hundred people, let alone three.”
Intrigued by Wolfe’s enthusiasm, Kane rubbed his chin. “Okay.”
“The majority of people in America are O Rh-positive. The male victim is B Rh-positive and the female O Rh-positive but I found a few drops of A Rh-positive as well, not a lot. It was on Bailey Canavar’s hands.” Wolfe moved to a pile of bloodstained clothing. “These have labels from Chinese retailers; add to this the majority of people of Asian descent have type B blood, I would have to assume our John Doe is a visitor from China.” His eyes twinkled over his mask. “We have to assume our killer is injured and type A blood. This is also a very common Caucasian blood type. Without a sample of Jim Canavar’s blood, I would need to obtain a sample of his mother’s DNA to check it against, and mitochondrial matches are the most accurate.”
Kane folded his arms across his chest. “So this confirms there were three people involved but why would the blood be on Bailey’s hands unless she stabbed her assailant?” He stared at the corpse; seeing the bits and pieces lined up and the Y-shaped stitching on the victim’s chest made him think of Frankenstein’s monster. “So, can we rule John Doe out as Bailey’s killer?”
“Not entirely.” Wolfe moved to the gurney. “The killer strangled John Doe. The marks on his neck are clear impressions of thumbs digging into the throat as if the killer lifted him up by his neck. In most cases a chokehold like this restricts oxygen to the brain and we would see petechial hemorrhages of the eyes, but due to the extent of the facial damage, I had to look for proof of cause of death elsewhere.” He indicated to the marks on the man’s throat.
Kane moved closer. “Yeah, that’s pretty clear, but that could have happened in a fight— what proof do you have he was choked to death?”
“He has a fractured hyoid bone.” Wolfe turned to an X-ray illuminated on a screen. “See here, and here? His larynx is crushed and a laryngeal fracture would restrict air flow to the brain enough to cause asphyxiation.”
Questions stormed into Kane’s mind and he gathered his thoughts, staring at the pile of body parts that once was a man. “My first question to make all this relevant is who died first?”
“Time of death is the same. I would estimate they died sometime on Wednesday. I believe Bailey died first but I can only go on the blood spatter evidence. Some of Bailey’s blood was overlaid by John Doe’s.” Wolfe opened images on his iPad and showed them to him. “I found her blood under a discarded shirt, and his blood was on the uppermost side of the shirt and on a bush beside the shirt.”
“So if he killed Bailey and was attacked by Jim and killed, why would Jim hack him to pieces before heading for the hills?” Kane stared at the corpse, and vivid memories of crimes involving underworld criminals came to mind. “Did you find his hands?”
“Nope and we found no viable prints at the scene either. I hoped to find evidence on the clothes but the killer or killers wore gloves.” Wolfe lifted his chin and his eyes narrowed. “John Doe’s teeth are missing as well. They should have been at the scene but the lower part of his mandible is completely gone.”
Kane shot him a glance. “I’ve seen this before to remove a person’s identity. Useless now with DNA but you would need a relative to check a sample against. If this man is from overseas, we may never identify him.” He made a mental note. “I’ll contact the FBI and see if they can track down any possible missing Chinese tourists. They would need visas, and if they overstayed they would be red-flagged.” He moved his gaze to the other sheet-covered gurney. “What do you have on Bailey?”
“In layman’s terms, Bailey died as a result of a fatal stab wound on the left side of the abdomen that perforated the abdominal aorta, causing a hemorrhage.” Wolfe only partially uncovered the body, offering Bailey the utmost respect.
Disassociating himself from the vibrant woman he had met, Kane peered at the corpse and then back at Wolfe. “So after the killer finished having his fun, he used a one-strike kill, which makes me believe he has military or self-defense training.” He snorted. “It was almost as if he was offering her mercy.”
“I don’t think so.” Emily moved into Kane’s periphery. “Whoever did this has no concept of the word. In my opinion, I think he tired of her; maybe she stopped fighting back or gave in too easily.” She looked up at Kane and her pale blue eyes searched his face. “I’ve been studying psychopathic behavior. I know a victim can’t reason with them, and if they try, the violence is usually more intense. The killer only gets enjoyment if the victim is suffering.”
Out of the mouths of babes. “Sure, that is the case, but there are so many different types of behavior and some forms merge with others. It’s not an exact science. We may have two separate killers, or one who hasn’t killed for a year. That in itself would be unusual at the level of violence of the cold case. Looking at the damage here, this killer has killed before and likely often.”
“Exactly, and here is where the similarities between the cases merge.” Wolfe covered Bailey and moved to the other gurney, pulling back the sheet with a flick of his wrist, displaying the skeleton of Paige Allen. “I found both Paige Allen and Dawson Sanders had gunshot wounds to the lumbar spine; both injuries would cause paralysis of the lower extremities. Bailey’s injury was identical; both her injury and Paige’s could have been inflicted by the same person—they are precisely the same. Not so for Sanders. As you know he received at least three shots in the back: One severed his spinal cord, the other two were kill shots.” He raised an eyebrow. “One thing is troubling me. In my opinion, from the angle of entry, both women were running at the time. The ammunition used is small caliber, so to disable rather than kill.”
Kane swallowed hard. He had seen the evidence of prolonged torture many times but placing this murder alongside the facial mutilation of Paige Allen’s skull did not fit the profile of his killer. “Okay, so we have similarities, but the cold case looks like a crime of passion. The killer ruined Paige’s face so why would he change his MO and not touch Bailey’s? I can’t see the comparison.”
“I can.” Webber’s voice seemed overloud in the small room. “From the marks on the bones of the forearms, Paige suffered deep lacerations consistent with defense wounds. She was pa
ralyzed but fought back hard.” He shrugged. “The killer got mad. He couldn’t control her so hit her, likely with his pistol.”
“The broken jaw is consistent with blunt force trauma.” Wolfe nodded. “I agree the butt of a pistol could have been used as the weapon.”
“That would account for the discrepancies.” Kane recreated the scene in his head. “Then we have Bailey, who often used her looks to get her own way. Rich and beautiful, she would likely try and reason with her killer or buy her way out of trouble.” He glanced at Wolfe. “By the time she allowed him to tie her hands above her head, it was too late.”
28
After the morgue, it was good to get outside and into the sunshine. Kane leaned against his rig and inhaled, replacing the disgusting stench in his lungs with the pine-scented breeze drifting from the forest. To his surprise, Emily came out the door and headed toward him. He smiled at her. She was a credit to Wolfe and one of a trio of fair-haired daughters, who all had their father’s brains “Getting some fresh air?”
“Well, no.” Emily lifted her chin and gave him a direct, no-nonsense look. “My dad would prefer if I didn’t offer an opinion during an autopsy briefing so I’ve come to apologize.”
Kane could see by her expression that she disagreed. “I thought you had a valid point but making conclusions without considering all the possibilities is a mistake.”
“I used the Hare psychopathy checklist and going on what we know I—”
“Wait! I have a few other things for you to factor in before you make a decision.” He looked down at her, so keen to learn but so young. “As we don’t have a suspect to run the test against, you have other things to consider; for instance, the influence of drugs. There are certain drugs that change a person’s brain chemistry. Some make people exhibit violent behavior. Look at people strung out on ice, for instance. If they exhibit violent behavior, how could you classify them with any degree of accuracy?”
“Now you’re angry with me?” She stared at the ground.
Kane barked out a laugh. “I’m not angry with you. I admire your tenacity.”
“Dad said you are the best profiler he has ever known. I know he is great at his job but I want to see forensic science from all angles. Knowing more about why people kill is important to me.” She let out a long sigh. “Do you mind if I ask you questions sometimes? I won’t be a pest, I promise.”
Kane’s cellphone vibrated in his pocket. “You can talk to me anytime but right now I have to take a call.” He watched her race back inside, blonde ponytail swinging, and lifted his phone to his ear. “Kane.”
“This is Rowley. We have a fight outside Fishing, Guns and Ammunition store. The proprietor of the store called it in. There are three men involved. I’ll need backup.”
Kane slipped behind the wheel of his car. “What’s your position?”
“I’m on Main Street heading there now.”
“I’m on my way.”
* * *
On arrival, he recognized the group of men surrounded by a gathering crowd: Leroy and Abel Finch, the brothers who lived in the mountains near Bear Peak, and the man they had tangled with at the Triple Z, Ethan Woods. The larger man, Woods, was handling himself well against both brothers. The smaller men ducked and weaved around him like annoying flies.
Kane pushed his way through the crowd with Rowley at his side. “Break it up.” He blocked a blow from one of the brothers and glared at him. “I said, break it up.” He had him turned around and cuffed before he knew what had happened then patted him down and took a hunting knife from his belt. He turned to the crowd. “Nothing to see, folks. On your way.”
Rowley soon had the other brother restrained and Kane turned his attention on Woods. “Turn around, hands on the wall, and assume the position.”
“No way.” Woods wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth and glared at him, fists raised.
“You planning on fighting me now?” Kane gave him a long, hard stare. He had to be joking; one punch and Woods would be nursing a broken nose for weeks. “You wouldn’t want to do that, Mr. Woods.”
The man lunged forward, swinging his fists, and Kane sidestepped, leaving air in his place. The momentum from Woods’ punch unbalanced him and he staggered forward. Kane caught him by the collar and swung him around to face the red-brick wall. He flicked a glance at Rowley. “Add attacking an officer of the law and resisting arrest to the charge of causing a public nuisance.”
“I’ll stand up in court if needs be as a witness, Deputy.” A white-haired elderly man stepped forward. “And so will my son, we got everything with our cellphone camera. He’ll tell you everything you need to know.” He shook his head. “I don’t want no ruckus outside my store—its bad for business.” He turned and went slowly up the steps and into the store.
A man stepped forward. “I can send you the pictures.”
“Thank you, sir. Rowley here will give you my card. Send the file to me with your details.”
Kane pushed Woods against the wall and cuffed him, kicked out his legs, then frisked him none too gently. “Is that your rifle?” He indicated to the Winchester 70 Featherweight leaning against the wall.
“Yes, and I want my lawyer.” Woods glared at him over one shoulder. “In case you have forgotten, it’s James Stone.”
Kane ignored Woods and turned to Leroy Finch. “What happened here?”
“We caught him sneakin’ around our cabin.” Leroy’s mouth turned down. “We got ourselves a night-vision camera, thought we had a bear causing a ruckus, but it turns out it was him. Last night he slept in our barn. He ain’t got no right to be creepin’ around our property at night.”
“And you’ve got no right to be fighting on the sidewalk. You could have injured a bystander. I’m charging you this time.” Kane read them their rights then pushed Woods toward Rowley’s cruiser. “All of you inside.” He collected Woods’ rifle. “I’ll be following right behind. Any sign of trouble and you can walk in front of the cruiser. Understand?” He shut the door and looked over at Rowley. “As if we don’t have enough to deal with.”
“Black Rock Falls, perfect one day, crazy as hell the next.” Rowley grinned then swung inside his cruiser.
* * *
Crazy as hell, now there’s an understatement. Kane followed the prisoners and Rowley into the sheriff’s department foyer, passed the counter, then stopped at the sight of Jenna emerging from her office. “Chase down anything interesting?”
“No, all dead ends.” Jenna glanced at the retreating figures on their way to the cells. “What have we got?”
“Not much.” Kane leaned one shoulder against the doorframe of her office. “I do have a video of the arrest and Woods’ assault on me, so we have him to rights. Apparently, Woods has been hanging around the Finch brothers’ cabin. I’m not sure who started the fight, but this rifle belongs to Woods, so I’ll need to add it to his property list.”
“I’ll lock it in the weapons locker.” Jenna’s attention moved to the rifle. “Nice.” She lifted the weapon from Kane’s hand and checked it out. “I hear these are pretty accurate.”
Kane followed her inside. “Not bad for a hunter, but not what I’d have in my arsenal; but then, I don’t use my Light Fifty to hunt animals.”
The delicious smell of hot coffee filled the room. Kane glanced at Jenna’s desk, noting the takeout bag, and his stomach gave a slow rumble. He gave her an apologetic smile, his thoughts on the cookies in his desk and the always full coffee pot waiting in the small kitchenette. “I’ll go and interview the prisoners—well, the brothers at least. Woods lawyered up. I called Stone already.”
“The Finches can wait ten minutes. Rowley won’t have finished processing them yet.” She waved him to a seat. “I thought you might be busy, so I’ve brought lunch for you, and while we’re eating you can give me a quick rundown on the autopsy report. Wolfe hasn’t sent me anything yet but I’m sure he’ll have a preliminary report over to me soon.”
Kane dropped into a chair and sighed. “Okay and thanks, I’m famished. I haven’t had time for a break this morning.” He peered inside the bag and the smell of chili filled his nostrils. “You are an angel.”
As he ate, he outlined Wolfe’s initial findings. He sipped his coffee, waiting for her to digest the information.
“I figure it’s the same killer.” Jenna pushed to her feet and went to the whiteboard. “He likely lives out of town but in Montana. We need to scan the databanks for any other similar crimes. If he committed this type of murder before, he could be active throughout the state. People come from all over Montana to hunt here and the same would be for most hunting areas statewide. He would keep his licenses up to date, and visit the checkpoints. He slips into society without anyone noticing.”
“Not many serial killers choose hunting seasons; there are too many rangers and hunters roaming around.” Kane shrugged. “I don’t figure this is an opportunistic thrill-kill. The evidence points to him using trail cams to track his victims, but how does he know they will be in that particular area? He has to know to set up the trail cams beforehand.”
“Easy.” Jenna’s eyebrows rose. “He sets them up all over but in some of the more remote areas. Tons of couples prefer the more secluded trails. They want to be alone.” She shrugged as if it was a done deal and returned to her seat. “If he can access the trail cams via his cellphone he waits to see a possible target moving into his area then jumps out and kills them.” She held up a finger to stop his reply. “Also, it’s unusual for people to steal trail cams because they know the owner would have video evidence of the theft. Hunting season is a perfect time to kill people in the forest. It’s hunting season here most months of the year and if a man comes out of the forest blood-spattered, no one would bat an eyelid. They dress their kills on-site.”