by D. K. Hood
“It is unusual behavior.” Kane scratched his head. “I wonder if he has kept trophies?”
Jenna stood, glad to be away from the staring eyes of Lilly Coppersmith, and turned to Kane. “Dear Lord, you don’t think this creep has bits of his victims in his fridge, do you?”
“Anything is possible.” Kane cleared his throat. “Anyone who does this to a person is not what I’d class as ‘normal.’”
36
Monday, week two
Monday morning arrived with a fresh chill in the air and the earthy smell of overnight rain. Kane had his chores finished before daylight, and after their early-morning workout, he met Jenna for breakfast. He had spent his time in the stables mulling over the case and running different profiles through his mind in an attempt to make a fit for the killer. He waited for Jenna to finish eating before he mentioned his concerns. “This killer is different in so many ways, he is difficult to profile.”
“I know what you mean.” Jenna pulled a face of disgust. “From what I’m seeing at the crime scenes, he is a cross between Jeffrey Dahmer and Hannibal Lecter.”
Kane rubbed the back of his neck. “He is displaying traits of the more famous serial killers, which makes me wonder if he fixates on violent psychopaths. Maybe this erratic behavior is role-playing or he wants to make his mark in history. Men have killed for notoriety.”
“But why choose the same type of woman?” Jenna sipped her coffee and gave an appreciative sigh.
Kane refilled his cup and added cream and sugar. “If he is fixating on killers, he would know about hybristophilia.”
“What?” Jenna chuckled. “That sounds like a cleaning utensil.”
“A hybristophiliac is a woman who gets off on having a relationship with a murderer.” He met her gaze. “It’s often called the Bonnie and Clyde syndrome. I know it sounds a bit farfetched but it could be part of his motive.”
“How so?”
“I have two possible causes for this type of psychopathy. From the damage inflicted to the women in particular, we know the killer is consumed by his own importance and likes to be in control.” Kane sipped his beverage, enjoying the full-bodied flavor of his favorite brand of coffee. “I figure this goes way back to when he was a kid. If someone he loved—his mother, grandmother, or a girl he liked—belittled him, in front of his friends for instance, the resentment could simmer for years before it’s triggered.” He glanced at her. “That would be the most likely scenario but an unstable personality could be disturbed if his mother or grandmother died and left him alone or, worse, in an abusive situation. In both cases, he had no way to control the circumstances, but when he murders he has control over life and death. The type of woman he murders all have dark hair and blue eyes. This type is significant to him and he needs to prove to himself he has control over them.” He frowned as the images of the brutalized women flashed through his mind. “The torture is important as well. He wants them to beg for their lives because in his sick mind, he is recreating the impossible situation he faced in the past.” He sighed. “But by taking control and killing them, he is balancing the scale.”
“So how does this tie into being fixated on other serial killers?” Jenna raised one black eyebrow in question.
Kane leaned back in his chair, making it creak. “The variety and method of his kills makes it obvious he is aware of other psychopaths.”
“So how do you tie the Bonnie and Clyde syndrome into his motive as well?”
Kane ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his coffee cup. “This is a man with a huge ego. I wouldn’t be surprised if he figures by becoming a notorious murderer, women will flock to him in prison and he will have power over them.” He frowned at her. “There are women who are attracted to criminals. The most horrific serial killers receive sexually explicit letters from thousands of women; hell, some of them even marry them in jail.”
“Then why is he concentrating on couples?”
“This is a narcissistic trait. He disabled the men then tortured the women in front of them to prove the men inadequate because they failed to stop him. It is a typical ‘look at me, I’m better than you’ situation. He wants to prove his dominance over women but needs a witness to satisfy his ego. So we can add ‘likes an audience’ to his behavior traits.” Kane met her inquisitive gaze. “We know from Colter Barry’s statement that the killer incapacitated him and made him watch. That would tie in with the reason the killer poured gas over the male victims, to prevent animals devouring them. In the killer’s sick mind, he left the guy to watch the animals eat the woman he loved.” He rubbed his chin. “The problem is I can’t work out what he is planning next, why he is escalating now. It’s as if he’s taken on the personas of a number of famous murderers and mixed them together. There is no rhyme or reason to his actions. He doesn’t display his victims, or take physical trophies unless he has a refrigerator at home filled with body parts. The fatal injury is different in each case and he uses different weapons.”
“We do have similarities.” Jenna narrowed her gaze. “Always couples, dark-haired women, and hikers who prefer the old trails.” She stared into space for some moments. “He has displayed knowledge of disabling people by injuring the spine and has used the same practice each time. I would say he is an excellent shot, but so are hundreds of men around here; both these abilities could be linked to the military, then add the camouflage gear. We assume he uses trail cams, which is pretty individual to him, and if he needs trophies, what better than a video of the kill?”
Kane smiled at her. “You have a point, and Canavar and Woods fit the profile and description given by Colter Barry. Woods has priors and Canavar’s ex-girlfriend is missing. They were both in the vicinity at the time of Bailey’s murder. It would be hard to split them when it comes to circumstantial evidence.”
“There is little doubt the same killer murdered at least Bailey Canavar and Lilly Coppersmith.” Jenna got to her feet and leaned back on the kitchen counter. “At the moment neither tie in with Lilly Coppersmith’s death.”
“Then we need to chase down some more clues.” Kane stood and stared at her. “The problem with assuming Canavar was involved in Lilly Coppersmith’s murder is that no one has seen him since the day of Bailey’s and John Doe’s murders.”
“I figure we had it right about him before. He’ll be living rough, and dressed in camouflage he would blend into the forest and no one would give him a second glance.” Jenna collected the breakfast dishes and rinsed then in the sink before loading the dishwasher. “We need to check out where Woods was yesterday.”
Kane nodded in agreement. “We sure do.”
37
The wind had picked up again, and as Jenna climbed from her vehicle, icy fingers buffeted her, lifting the edges of her jacket. She glanced skyward expecting to see rainclouds, but a clear blue sky stretched out for miles in all directions. People moved along the sidewalk without thick clothing, seemingly oblivious to the first hint of winter. The rosy cheeks and runny nose on a toddler grinning at her from over his mother’s shoulder reminded her to get to the doctor’s for a flu shot. She sidestepped a group of kids, heads down peering at their cellphones as they waited at the bus stop, and headed for the front door of the sheriff’s department. The streets of Black Rock Falls had been unusually busy for this time of morning, then she remembered it was Monday and local charities set up in the community hall selling everything from preserves to antiques.
Her stomach knotted with worry over the people living in her town and the hordes of visitors arriving daily to enjoy the scenery or hunt in the forest. It was hard to believe violence had visited this beautiful town again. It seemed as if danger lurked on every corner and she could do nothing to stop it. How many more would die on her watch? She swallowed the lump in her throat. Isolated with vast forests and plains, Black Rock Falls hid many secrets, and now it seemed serial killers had picked it as their hunting ground of choice.
She took one last look at the majest
ic mountains, shook her head, and strolled into the building. As usual, Rowley was at the counter chatting to Maggie. “Morning. Anything to report?”
“There have been a few local unsubstantiated sightings of Jim Canavar, and two in Butte, but that’s about all. The Butte office will get back to us once they have spoken to the people who called them in.” Rowley pushed a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ve been reading the murder book on the Lilly Coppersmith case and your interview with Mr. Barry. I think I might have something to add.”
Jenna removed her thick jacket and headed for her office. “Grab Kane and come to my office.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After updating the whiteboard in her office, Jenna sat down and checked the duty roster for the week. Most of her deputies had pulled double shifts since the murders. She would prefer to take Kane with her to the Coppersmith autopsy but wanted to keep everyone in the loop. Bradford would arrive by eleven but would be too late to relieve Rowley, and Walters did not arrive until after lunch. She glanced up as Kane and Rowley ambled into the room. “Take a seat. What have you found?”
“Not found as such.” Rowley placed one of the cups of coffee in his hand before her then sat down, cup in hand. “It’s just Mr. Barry mentioned the killer was wearing camouflage gear and a com pack. I’ve heard of a crazy old Vietnam vet and his son who live up that way, Brayden and Joseph Blythe. They dress like that and use a com pack to keep in touch with each other. Their land is well signposted and they are unpredictable. Rumor has it they live on squirrels but they have a few goats as well.”
“Are they out of Bear Peak?” Kane placed his steaming brew on the desk and dropped into a seat.
“Yeah, some ways from the Finches’ cabin, I figure their place is about ten minutes’ walk down the mountain from the firebreak.” Rowley glanced up at Jenna with an expectant look on his face. “I could show you.”
Jenna glanced over at Kane, who shrugged almost unperceivably. “We have to attend the Coppersmith autopsy in a few minutes but we’ll head up there after lunch.” She made a few notes in her daybook then glanced at him again. “While we’re away, check up on the whereabouts of Mr. Woods. I want to know where he was at the time of Lilly Coppersmith’s murder. Bradford and Walters will both be on duty by then and you can show us where to find the Blythe property.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced at her deputies. “I’ll release another media statement warning people we have an armed and dangerous man in the forest. I’ll give a brief description and ask them to call in on the crime information hotline if they see anyone acting suspiciously.” She pushed both hands through her hair. “I’m not banking on getting much response when ninety percent of the men in town carry weapons in the forest and wear camo.”
“It would save time if you attended to the autopsy and I collected the horses.” Kane’s eyebrows rose. “We can easily pick up Rowley’s mount on the way.” He pushed to his feet and swung the cup from the handle.
Jenna’s day was getting more complicated by the second but Kane did have a point. “Sure, that works for me. I’ll grab some lunch and we can eat along the way to Bear Peak.” She looked up at Kane. “Bring Duke along, he’ll enjoy the run.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kane smiled at her in a flash of white teeth then headed for the door.
38
He gaped at the breaking news story splashed across his TV screen in disbelief. The sheriff was giving a stern warning about hiking with a killer on the loose. Photographs of the faces of his latest kills were out there for all to see. This had never happened before, but then no one had found one alive until now. I must be losing my edge.
He listened in morbid fascination as the newscaster gave details of Colter Barry’s scrape with death. The whimpering piece of shit was alive. Dammit, he had shot him in the head, near sliced his spine through, and he had lived. He picked a glass of bourbon from the table and hurled it against the wall. The pungent liquid spilled down the flock wallpaper and spread over the beige wool carpet in an ugly brown stain. Glass fragments mixed with the ice from the glass and glistened in the stream of light from the window, triggering a memory of sunbeams on crimson blood. He touched his lips, still cool from the drink, and could feel Lilly’s mouth again, cold against his flesh.
He had enjoyed killing her.
He wished he could kill her again.
The voice from the TV dragged his attention to the screen, and anger bubbled back to the surface. He stood and paced the room listening to advice to avoid the less popular mountain trails until the sheriff had investigated Colter Barry’s claims. How dare she get involved?
An interview followed with the two men who had found Colter Barry disorientated and raving like a lunatic. One of the men figured a stray bullet could have shot Barry as he was moving close to a regulated hunting area. He stopped pacing and stared at the screen, waiting for the newscaster’s comment.
“Well, folks, if you’re going hiking, take care; after all, it is hunting season.”
He took a bottle of bourbon from the bar and made himself a drink then slipped a video card into his player. As the image of Lilly running away from him in terror flashed onto the screen, his heart raced in anticipation. “Run, run as fast as you can because I know how this movie ends and I can’t wait.”
39
Jenna took three deep breaths and pulled on a face mask, then scanned her ID card and stepped inside the morgue. Her self-confidence in dealing with the deaths of victims had increased tenfold since Wolfe’s arrival in Black Rock Falls. The old message that used to play through her head, The dead can’t hurt you, often came to mind at a horrific crime scene, but Wolfe’s calming and reassuring words steeled her resolve during the more grueling autopsies.
His insistence to treat each corpse with dignity, as in life, with a name and a story to tell, was what separated him from the other coroners she had dealt with in her time in law enforcement. Before Wolfe came into her life, she would force her humanity into the background in an effort to deal with horrific crimes. Now she viewed things very differently. Each victim had a story to tell and she needed to be at the autopsy to listen to what Lilly Coppersmith had to say about the man who had taken her life, and prevent him killing again.
She took in the scene before her. Wolfe in mask and gloves with Cole Webber discussing samples taken from the crime scene. “Morning.”
“Great, you’re early.” Wolfe pulled down his mask and smiled at her. “I’m working at warp speed today. Anna is in a school play and I need to be there after she finishes school to help out.”
Jenna nodded. “Yes, Kane mentioned her play. We thought we might come along tonight and watch her, if that’s okay?”
“It would make her day.” Wolfe indicated to Webber to remove Lilly Coppersmith’s body from a drawer in the morgue refrigerator. His attention moved back to Jenna. “As with our other victims, I have used Cole as the law enforcement witness to conduct the autopsy. It means you have the results faster and gives me ample time to explain the different procedures to him. I know some of this is a little grueling for most people. I hope this practice is still okay with you?”
A wave of relief spread over her. She understood the need to be present, but this way, he was able to give her his findings and explain by showing her the evidence. “Yes, having Webber working with you is a bonus for both of us.” She glanced at Webber. “How do you like the work so far?”
“It’s very interesting and I’m enjoying the theory side as well.” Webber pushed the gurney under a huge theatre light. “I had no idea being a coroner’s assistant was so involved but I like doing this job.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” Jenna glanced at Wolfe. “We’ve had a development in the case. Apart from our two suspects, Canavar and Woods, Rowley mentioned a Vietnam vet who is a bit crazy out of Bear Peak. A soon as I’ve finished here, we’re heading up to interview him.”
“Wear your Kevlar vests, just in case.” Wolfe pu
lled back the sheet on Lilly Coppersmith’s deathly white body. “Okay, we have a female, Caucasian, identified as Lilly Coppersmith out of Blackwater, Montana. Twenty years old, five feet four inches tall. She was in good physical health at the time of death.” He lifted Lilly’s hands one by one. “We found no trace evidence under her nails or any indication at all she fought her killer.”
Jenna replayed Colter Barry’s interview in her mind. “She didn’t fight back in order to save her boyfriend from being burned alive.”
“There are ligature marks on both wrists, the first consistent with the killer tying her arms behind her back for a period of time.” Wolfe’s pale gray gaze moved to her face and he frowned. “From the bruising on her upper thighs and genital area, she was alive when he raped her. The hypostasis in the lower arms or discoloration of the skin would indicate the killer placed her in the position we found her, sitting with her arms extended above her head, before he inflicted the wounds to her arms and legs.”
Jenna moved closer and peered at Lilly’s face. “What do you make of the bruises on her face?”
“The lacerations on her legs and arms would have caused pain and blood loss.” Wolfe glanced at Webber. “Cole has a theory about the marks.”
“Yeah, they aren’t as brutal as the first murder. I figure he was slapping her around to keep her conscious.” Webber pointed to a distinct outline of fingermarks on one cheek. “That’s a slap not a punch.”
“So, what’s the cause of death?” Jenna turned her attention back to Wolfe. “Blood loss?”
“Nope.” Wolfe indicated to a small wound just below the ribs on the left side. “This is why I believe the killer has military training of some kind. That is the same sharp force injury used on Bailey Canavar. It is a lethal and effective blow often used in mortal combat. I would say, due to blood loss, she was lapsing into unconsciousness, and inflicting pain was no longer giving her killer pleasure.”