by Robin Mahle
The knock on Lindsay’s door was gentle and non-threatening. It was midday and Edward knew she stopped by her house for lunch before her two p.m. psych class. His only concern was if the roommate was home too. If she was there, he wouldn’t stand a chance of getting through that door.
The dark-haired, chain-smoking political science major had moved in with Lindsay at the beginning of the year. She didn’t like Edward much. Thought he was a narcissist. At least, that was what she had expressed to Lindsay and she’d relayed the information to him one night over the phone. “You know, she thinks you’re a little full of yourself,” Lindsay had said, following it up with a drunken snort.
Edward waited for the door to open. Maybe she wasn’t home yet. He double-checked the time on his watch. She should be here by now. A second knock was followed by a press of the doorbell. He could hear it echoing inside. “Lindsay? Laura?” Edward pressed his ear against the door. “Dammit.”
Edward started to turn away, working through his plan as this attempt seemed to have been a bust. As he moved toward the front window, a small opening through the otherwise closed curtains allowed him to catch a glimpse inside. The scene forced him to pull back quickly, gasping at the unexpected sight. “What the fuck?” He dropped the flowers and pressed his face to the window for a better look.
Inside, the living room had been ransacked. The white sofa, overturned, the black table collapsed, tilted on its two remaining legs. Papers scattered, figurines lying shattered on the ground. Empty bookshelves and table tops. “Jesus!” Edward shot a glance behind him and to either side. No one was around. The neighbor’s houses were quiet and the street was barren.
He started to walk toward the side of the small house and in between the narrow opening between the homes. A window had been broken. It was Lindsay’s bedroom window. A sudden jolt of fear passed through him as he leaned back, his pulse quickening.
Edward was not a man of compassion. He was not charitable, nor did he consider his fellow man in any manner other than how he might benefit from them. But as he stood in the three-foot gap, his shoes settling in the damp soil, he felt genuine concern for the woman who had seemingly set out to destroy his plans. Or perhaps it was primarily concern for what would be perceived as his role in the present situation.
He stepped forward, landing on the fallen ruins below, pushing them into the ground under his weight. Edward leaned further until his head was inside the opening.
Lindsay lay sprawled out on the floor, her face covered in blood. His legs wobbled beneath him. His hands trembled so much so that his left palm sliced open on impact against the broken glass still hanging inside the window frame.
He could not look away and devoured every inch of her body with fear and fascination.
Edward’s attention was focused on what she held in her hands. He narrowed his eyes to gain a better view. Yes. Dandelions, but what was more concerning to him was the symbol left by her killer. “Oh my god.” He reached for his cell phone.
Only after ending the call that had taken much longer than he’d expected, did Edward finally call the police.
“911, what is your emergency?” the voice on the other end asked.
“I’m at my girlfriend’s house. She’s dead. Someone killed her.”
“Marshall?” Katie jogged to catch up to him in the hall. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about Agent Scarborough. I asked if I could get some information on the ‘Highway Hunter.’ He said he’d welcome a second set of eyes on some of the files, but it has to be off the record.” She was struggling to keep up with him. It seemed he was on his way to somewhere in a hurry.
Marshall tossed her a sideways glance. “Well, you might get a chance to see him in person very soon. A call came in about an hour ago. Someone found a woman’s body in her home. According to Captain Hearn, it could be related to the man the FBI is looking for.”
Marc’s words came to her in an instant. “We need to get ahead of this thing, Katie, before the killer ends up at our doorstep.”
Was it possible? She’d only spoken to Nick this morning and he was heading to the scene of another possible victim in Colorado. That would mean the suspect would have had to take a flight in order to get to San Diego so quickly. From what she knew of the case already, days or almost a week would pass before another victim would turn up.
“You say she was found in her home? From what Scarborough knows about the killer, he says that the guy tosses the bodies onto the side of the highway. Something’s not adding up.” Katie was already thinking like a detective. She began to feel energized by the news and was ready to go all in and do what she could to help.
“The captain knows more about this than I do and, by the sounds of it, so do you.” A measure of discontent seemed to prevail in him.
The tone was not lost on her, but she continued, “Who’s the lead on the case?”
“If it turns out to be the guy the FBI is looking for, they’ll handle it. But Hearn has assigned Gibbons for the time being. He’s heading out now.” It appeared that Marshall was feeling a twinge of guilt for his earlier comment. “Look, if you want in on it, you’d better talk to Harris to get on his team.”
This case would be outside Marshall’s area and so Katie knew his involvement would be limited at best. The differing units in the department crossed paths once in a while and Marshall was senior to many of the other detectives. They often came to him for advice or to run on a lead, if needed. It came as no surprise that he was already aware of the call. She was glad to have his support, even if it seemed somewhat reluctant.
“Thank you, Marshall.”
Rather than return to her office, Katie took Marshall’s advice and headed straight to see Dr. Harris. As the Crime Scene Supervisor, he assigned the investigators and evidence technicians. It wasn’t often Katie requested to work on a case, but she hoped he would give her an opportunity now.
“Dr. Harris?” Katie tapped on his opened door.
The scene in his office depicted a man quite literally obsessed with the history of forensics. He held a Ph.D. in Forensic and Behavior Science, so this hadn’t come as much of a surprise to Katie. Textbooks, certificates, even a DNA model were all on display on the several bookshelves that lined the walls.
“Katie? Please, come in. What can I do for you?” He removed his glasses, placing them neatly on his desk and rubbed his hands along the top of his freshly-shaved head. As a man nearing what Katie assumed to be about fifty, he was in remarkable shape. His button-down shirt revealed slightly bulging pectoral muscles and broad shoulders. What he lacked in vision and hair, he more than made up for with a well-toned frame.
“I understand that Detective Gibbons is handling the case of the victim over near Bay Park that was called in this morning.”
Dr. Harris leaned in, as if waiting for her to continue.
“I was wondering if you’ve already assigned your techs to the team.”
“Are you interested in this particular case?” Dr. Harris seemed curious by the special request.
“Well, yes, actually. I hear they think it has something to do with this ‘Highway Hunter,’ and well, I know the FBI agent working that case, and I just thought maybe I could help.”
“We don’t know if any connection exists between the two, not that Gibbons has relayed to me anyway. But if you want in, you’re in. If there is a connection, you won’t be in for long. The FBI will pull it from us in the blink of an eye.”
“I understand. Thank you, Dr. Harris. Who will the CSI be that I should report to?”
“Sanderson is at the scene now, or will be within minutes. Call him. Tell him you’ll be assisting in the collection of the evidence.” Dr. Harris placed his glasses back on his face, signaling the end of the conversation.
“Thank you again, Dr. Harris.” Katie nodded gently and, as she turned to leave, a wide grin spread across her face.
7
IT SEEMED LIKE a quaint neighborhood. Green lawns, trim
med hedges, 1960s architecture. Katie took in the picturesque scene, finding it hard to believe a murder had just been committed inside one of these small bungalows.
Stepping out of her Toyota and into the organized chaos of the crime scene, Katie looked for Gibbons and Sanderson. Three patrol cars and the coroner’s van were parked out front. Neighbors had been held back by barricades and tape. Some appeared to return to their homes, while others remained fixed by their own morbid fascination.
On approach to the lead detective, Katie immediately recognized the man to whom he was speaking. “Edward?”
Detective Gibbons turned to her, appearing confused by her familiarity. “Katie? You know Mr. Shalot?”
“We’re in the same class at UCSD. Criminal Justice,” Edward replied.
“Yes, that’s right. What’s going on?” Katie asked.
“Mr. Shalot discovered the victim earlier this morning and made the 911 call.” Gibbons hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Sanderson is inside. Why don’t you touch base with him, see what he needs?”
Gibbons appeared reluctant to share anything further regarding Edward. The brushoff was fairly apparent and not just to her. “Of course.”
Sanderson was in the living room, scribbling notes on his tablet. Lights flashed as photographs were being taken. Evidence was carefully being placed in bags and those inside were documenting and collecting with precision.
“Officer Sanderson? Dr. Harris assigned me to assist you.”
“Katie. Great. Glad you’re here.” Sanderson turned up and caught sight of her. “We could use your help transporting the evidence to the vehicles.” He looked toward the man photographing the upturned coffee table. “Crawford? Reid is here to help. Put her to work.”
Detective Gibbons stood on the porch, huddled with another officer, while Shalot remained as he was directed, leaning over the thick wood railing on the opposite end.
“You’re telling me this guy had a restraining order filed against him just yesterday? Son of a bitch.” Gibbons stood with arms folded and legs shoulder width apart. He towered over the other officer by a good foot. “We’re gonna have to bring him in.” He cast a brief look to Shalot.
“What about the FBI? This girl was carved up just like the others. And the weeds?” The officer shook his head.
“The media doesn’t know about that. I don’t see how we could be dealing with a copycat. I’ll put a call in to the captain now. Why don’t you go and tell our friend over there that he’s gonna be coming in with us?” Gibbons raised the cell phone to his ear.
“Ten-four.”
“Oh, and one last thing.” Gibbons turned back. “We need to have a word with Reid. She knows this guy.”
The lab was inundated with evidence from Lindsay Brown’s home. Katie, along with the rest of the evidence team, finished unloading the boxes.
Word had reached Katie that Gibbons wanted to speak with her. “Is there anything else you need from me?” She waited patiently for Sanderson to look up from his computer and offer direction.
“We’re good for now, Katie. Thank you. You were a big help this morning.”
She took leave and headed for Detective Gibbons’ office. The desire to call Scarborough and let him in on the present situation ate away at her, but stepping over that line wasn’t advisable. Not yet. She would wait to see what Gibbons had to say.
Seeing her classmate there was unexpected, to say the least. She was sure this was why Gibbons had called on her. “Knock, knock.” Katie rapped her knuckles on the door frame of the detective’s office.
He turned his attention from his partner, appearing to have been in furtive conversation. “Come in, Katie. Please, close the door behind you.”
Gibbons was junior to Marshall, but only by a few years. He had worked Homicide at the department for the past three, coming from SWAT. He was a good cop and well respected.
He sat perched on the edge of his desk. Katie took a seat, feeling his guarded eyes fall on her.
Gibbons’ partner, Detective Garza, was fairly new to the department, having transferred from Riverside. Katie knew little about him, but he appeared even less approachable than Gibbons. Maybe that was due to his unfamiliarity or maybe it was due to the grave look on his face. Katie suddenly began to feel as though she was under suspicion.
“What do you know about Shalot?” Gibbons’ straight-for-the-throat method was well known, although Katie had never experienced it first-hand.
“He’s in my Criminal Justice class that I have twice a week, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I’ve talked to him maybe a handful of times. That’s it.” She began to shift uncomfortably, as if a spotlight had been trained on her.
“You don’t know if he was dating anyone or where he lived or anything other than the fact that he was in your class?”
“I’m sorry, detective, but no. Like I said, I hardly spoke to him.”
Gibbons looked to Garza and continued. “I understand you have a friend at the FBI. An Agent Scarborough?”
“Yes.” Most people in the department knew what had happened to her and she didn’t feel the need to elaborate on the relationship.
“Can you tell me what you know about the so-called ‘Highway Hunter’?” Gibbons moved to his desk chair and sat down, looking Katie squarely in the eyes.
“Not much. I’ve got a friend at Channel Nine who asked me to put a call into Agent Scarborough. I wasn’t even sure if he was on the case, but it turns out that he was.” Katie thought back to the Nick’s words, knowing she needed to honor his request to keep things off book. “He said he couldn’t divulge any more than what the media already knew, so I thanked him and left it at that.”
“And that was it? He didn’t mention any of the specifics of the case?”
“Well, no. He didn’t. I wouldn’t say that he and I have a particularly close relationship. We’re friends in the loosest sense of the term. He and I had been through a lot in the past, but that was in the past. We don’t hang around the same circles.” She was working to read Gibbons, wondering why the pointed questions. Could Shalot have said something to make them believe she knew more than she was letting on? For that matter, what the hell did Shalot know anyway?
“Were you aware that Edward Shalot was dating the victim?”
“I’m sorry, no. I wasn’t aware of that at all.” Hadn’t she already stated she hardly knew the man?”
“Okay.” Gibbons rose again. “Thank you for your help, Katie. We appreciate it.”
Katie pushed up from the chair. “Do you believe this was the work of the ‘Highway Hunter’?”
“The captain’s put a call into your Agent Scarborough. He’s on his way here.”
Although she hadn’t known this, it didn’t come as a surprise. They must believe the murders are connected.
On her way out, she retrieved her phone and noticed several missed calls and a few text messages. Most were from Marc, but two were from Scarborough. It seemed he wanted to tell her he was coming down. His flight was due to land in a few hours.
This morning, Katie thought her only involvement in this case would be to take a look at a few of the files. Backgrounds of the victims and such, looking for any connection. She didn’t believe for a moment that Scarborough really needed her help. Instead, he was giving her another chance. A chance to see that this was the type of work she should be doing, but things had now changed dramatically. With her personal knowledge of the man who called it in, her involvement had just become compulsory.
Katie reached Marshall’s office. He looked as though he was expecting her.
“Close the door.” Before she had a chance to say anything, he started in. “What the hell’s going on, Kate? You know this guy?”
“It’s not like he’s a personal friend of mine. He’s in one of my classes. That’s it. I didn’t know he was the one who called it in.” Word had clearly already reached Marshall.
“Did you know the victim had filed a restraining order on the guy just
yesterday?”
Katie was taken aback by this little tidbit of information that Gibbons seemed to gloss over. “No. I had no idea. I’m telling you, Marshall. I really don’t know the guy from Adam. He’s talked to me a few times. Asked me out for coffee after class. That’s it.”
“You never mentioned going out for coffee with a classmate.”
“That’s because I never accepted the offers.” Her brow creased in response to his critical tone. “Come on. I would have told you if I’d socialized with anyone from class.”
“I know.” Marshall didn’t seem to want to believe she had somehow become a reluctant participant in the situation. “I was just surprised to find out you knew this guy. He shouldn’t have been there this morning. He had a restraining order against him. That’s the part that scares me. I don’t know, Kate. I don’t like how this is going, and now Scarborough’s coming? Did you know about that? You said you’d talked to him recently.”
“I didn’t know he was coming until Gibbons said something. Then, when I left his office, I found a message from Nick on my phone. He’s gonna be here in a few hours. I just can’t help but think there’s no way this could be the same guy, not after Nick had just found a victim in Colorado. Not to mention this woman was killed in her home and not dragged onto the side of the highway like the others.”
“Yeah, well, there seem to be too many other similarities. I guess we’ll know more when Scarborough gets here.” Marshall paused for a moment, appearing to study Katie’s expression. “You sure you can handle this? I don’t know if this Shalot is involved or not, but I can’t say I’m happy about you getting dragged into this thing.”
“I can handle it, Marshall. Just, please, don’t worry so much about me. I’m not as fragile as you think I am.”
“I know you’re not, Kate. But with everything that’s happened over the past few weeks…” Marshall cast his eyes toward her midsection. “I just want to be sure you’re up for this—physically, you know?”