Denise had put together a list of fabric warehouses that might prove helpful with the silk and teddy-bear material. Katie had also had suggestions about local people she could visit about the construction of the coffins. But first she wanted to talk with Dr. Dean at the morgue.
She pulled into a parking place back at the sheriff’s department.
“If you don’t want to come in with me, that’s okay,” she told McGaven.
“Nope, I’m not going to wimp out every time there’s a dead body involved,” he said. “I will have to do this eventually.”
Within minutes, she was standing in an exam room with Dr. Dean, staring at the body of the unknown girl. Her identity was still pending for dental-record recognition. It never got any easier when a child was involved. Katie glanced at McGaven. He stood stoic and professional, his gaze fixed on the wall.
“I received your preliminary report, but I wanted to talk to you in person again. I appreciate your time,” said Katie. “As I learn the ropes, I won’t be bothering you so much.”
“Not a problem, Detective.” Dr. Dean sounded genuine. “Shoot,” he said.
“Well,” Katie began. “She died of asphyxia?”
“Correct.”
“I wanted to clarify that she died due to her airway being blocked off—for lack of a better definition. You stated that she had oxygen poisoning. What does that mean? How can you die from lack of oxygen and have been poisoned by it?”
“Good question. Yes, she died of lack of oxygen—technically.”
Katie raised her eyebrows and remained quiet as the doctor explained further.
“There was such a huge amount of chloroform in her system that her nose and mouth have slight burns from the contact. It’s possible that she fell into a coma due to acute inhalation of chloroform, and then it would have been easy to obstruct her nose and mouth to suffocate her. When such a large amount of contaminated chloroform is ingested into the system, it begins to have detrimental effects on the body, from nausea and vomiting to renal and hepatic damage.”
“How would the chloroform have been contaminated?” she asked.
“If it’s been stored improperly or is old, it will begin to oxidize in combination with air or light and become lethal. It can show up in the body as a type of oxygen poisoning.”
Katie took in all the information and began to create a picture in her mind of the signature behavior of the killer.
“Were her kidneys damaged?” she asked.
“Yes, they showed signs of heavy toxins; not what you would expect to see from an otherwise healthy eleven-year-old girl.”
“Are there any other signs of abuse or anything that’s not accounted for?”
“She had some older minor bruises that would be consistent with playing sports.”
“Could she have been given any other chemical intravenously?” Katie wanted to completely understand everything she could about the drugs.
“There are no tiny punctures where a needle would have been; it would be more convenient to administer it with a rag over the nose and mouth.
“To keep her sedated.” Katie nodded. “Given the precise planning, it would make sense that the killer would keep administering the chloroform until he was ready for her to die.”
The room fell quiet for a moment.
Katie asked, “Would a large amount of chloroform help to preserve the body, like formaldehyde?”
The medical examiner pulled more of the plain sheet away from the frail body of the girl. “See how the skin on her chest and legs looks translucent, more than normal. Her internal organs show a slight hardening. All of that is caused by the large amounts of chloroform. But to answer your question, no, it’s not a formula for preservation.”
Katie nodded. “Okay.”
“Chloroform is a heckuva signature for a killer,” said McGaven.
Katie had almost forgotten about the deputy standing in the room. She was intensely aware of her headache, making it difficult to concentrate.
“Thank you, Dr. Dean. We won’t take up any more of your time,” she said.
“Jeff.”
“What?”
“Please call me Jeff,” the doctor said.
“Of course. Thank you, Jeff.”
She turned to leave, this time following McGaven out of the examination room. An uncontainable shudder went down her spine. There was something about the morgue and about these cases that unnerved her.
* * *
Katie had just spoken to two carpenters who specialized in miniatures and wooden toys, but hadn’t learned anything new about the coffin construction. Both men had confirmed that the work had been done painstakingly. She wasn’t going to give up yet, though—there was more to learn.
Her phone buzzed with a message, and she pulled to the side of the road to read it. Denise had sent her the details of other carpenters who might be able to help. “Here’s someone I know,” she said. “Charles Rey. Let’s go see what he has to say about the construction.” She nosed the SUV back into traffic. She knew the address where they were headed and didn’t need a GPS to guide her.
With a possible serial killer on the loose, local people were uncomfortable, distrustful, and scared, but Katie was determined to find and bring that killer to justice. Sifting through her notes, she had seen from many of the comments that the general theme of the town was fear, though it was difficult to decipher and read between the lines.
McGaven broke into her thoughts. “You thinking about the Toymaker?”
“Don’t call him that,” she said flatly.
“I forgot. Sorry,” he said.
She rolled her shoulders a couple of times and tried to shake off her unease from the morgue. She decided to explain further. “When the media gives a killer a clever name, it makes them seem important, when in fact it’s the victims we need to be talking about. Plain and simple.”
McGaven turned his attention back to the road. It wasn’t clear if he agreed with her or not, but he didn’t argue.
Katie navigated onto a narrow gravel track, the big SUV taking the bumpy and uneven terrain with ease. Charles lived at the end of a long road that opened into a farm. From what Katie remembered, his family had owned the twenty acres through three generations.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been out here,” said McGaven.
“I think I was a kid the last time I was here. He helped us build a tree house and fixed our bicycles.”
“I was here about five years ago.”
“What do you mean?” Katie asked.
“When his wife passed away. So sad…” McGaven’s voice drifted off.
“There’s no other family?”
“I think he has a son and a couple of grandkids who visit about once a year, but they live in New York.”
The narrow drive opened into a large area in front of the farmhouse. It was a spacious and well-kept yellow house with two stories of balconies. There were two barns further away on the property.
Katie parked to one side of the area and turned off the engine. She sat for a moment, then grabbed a file folder before exiting the vehicle.
Charles walked out of the house and hurried to greet them. “Hello,” he said. He shook McGaven’s hand—“It’s nice to see you, Deputy.”—then turned and smiled at Katie. It reminded her of the many times she’d seen him when she was a teenager; he still appeared warm and friendly. “Katie, it’s always a pleasure.”
“Thank you for seeing us,” she said.
“Anything I can do,” he replied. “C’mon in.”
Katie and McGaven followed him toward the house.
“Mr. Rey…” She corrected herself. “Charles, we have some photos that we need your opinion on.”
“Oh?” he said.
“It’s about evidence from a couple of cases we’re working,” she explained.
“You’ve got my interest. Well, why don’t we go to the barn?”
“Sure. That would probably be best.”
&nb
sp; Charles changed direction and followed a well-maintained path along to the workshop. There were all types of equipment stored neatly to one side, everything from small tools to pickers and backhoes. The path was lined with carefully tended flowers.
When they reached the large barn, he opened the big doors, the hinges squeaking. Immediately Katie thought about the barn at the Haven farm. She glanced at McGaven and noticed he had a frown on his face; most likely he was thinking the same thing.
Inside was a typical farm barn with bales of hay, tools, and a large workstation.
“So what do you have for me?” asked Charles.
“What I’m going to show you needs to be in confidence because of the ongoing case,” Katie said. “Please don’t share with anyone what you’re about to see.”
“Of course,” he replied.
In the file folder there were several eight-by-ten photographs of the coffins from various angles, close-up pictures as well as overall depictions. Katie took each photo and laid them out on the flat surface.
Charles put on his reading glasses and examined them. One in particular seemed to catch his interest.
“Is there anything that stands out to you?” said Katie. “Anything unusual?”
“These are coffins?” he said with a tightness to his voice.
Katie nodded. “I’m sorry, is this too much for you?”
“Uh, no, it’s okay. Anything to help.”
“Please take a look.”
“Why in the world would anyone… Those poor girls.” He picked up the photo showing the end pieces. “Whoever made this is a master craftsman. See here.” He indicated the detail. “This is dovetailing, and it’s some of the best I’ve seen. This isn’t just a carpenter, but an artisan.”
“So someone who built houses wouldn’t be this skilled?”
“Not in my experience. This person deals with specialty items, custom-made would be my guess.”
Katie thought about it for a moment. In her mind, she skimmed through all the people she had spoken with. None of them had seemed especially gifted in woodworking specialties.
“What are you thinking?” asked McGaven.
“It never occurred to me that someone might have ordered the coffins from an experienced business. They could have bought them online or from a company or individual in any other state.”
Charles pointed at another photo. “If you look closely here, the grain matches up perfectly. So I doubt this was made on an assembly line, but rather, from a special section of wood.”
Katie looked at him. “Would you know of anyone who could do this type of woodworking with such precision or attention to detail?” She watched his response and body language as he appeared to be searching his recollection.
“Of course, there are many people in town who could make a coffin, but that extra care and craftsmanship is something else.” He looked at the photograph again. “There’s this wood workshop and store just west as you go toward the town of Stewart.”
McGaven nodded. “I know it.”
“It’s a place where people who might create something like this congregate,” said Charles.
“We’ll take that under advisement,” said Katie. “Is there anything else you can tell us from these photographs?”
He paused, and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, nothing else comes to mind.”
“Thank you, Charles, it’s appreciated,” Katie said.
* * *
As Katie and McGaven sat in the SUV, Katie’s phone alerted with a text. It was from the forensic supervisor, with some information about the fabric from inside the coffins: The silk is specially dyed that shade of pink and three textiles companies carry it: Colors Fabrics, Chinese Silk Company, and Fabric by the Yard. Hope this helps.
McGaven read the message over her shoulder. “Are we going to visit those warehouses?”
“Two are in Sacramento and the other is located in San Jose. Let’s see if we can get some information from them about anyone ordering that fabric. I’ll ask Denise to call them and then take it from there,” Katie said. She was completely exhausted and thought she would cut out of work early. She wanted to pick apart everything the investigation had yielded to date.
She quickly replied to the text with a thank you.
“That’s it?” said McGaven.
“What?”
“You should say something a little bit nicer. You know… make it sound like you’re approachable and not this hard-ass ex-military homicide detective.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“Well, you are a bit difficult to get to know. I would say, guarded.”
Katie turned the key and the SUV roared to life. She backed up and then made a three-point turn heading back down the long driveway. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The deputy stared at her, trying not to smile.
She laughed. “I promise. I’m just not one of those soft, cuddly kitten girls.”
“Wow, now I can’t get that image out of my mind,” said McGaven. “Hey, you know you look tired.”
“Thanks. Is that another compliment? That makes how many today?” she said, good- humoredly.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, breaking down those boot-camp walls.”
“How much do I owe you, Doc?”
“I’m hungry. Buy me lunch,” he said.
“You got it.”
“And then you need a nap,” he added.
Katie drove to a local diner, where they ate together, comparing notes and theories about the case. Afterwards, she dropped him back at the sheriff’s department on her way home.
Forty-One
Detective Rory Templeton left Judge Wade Jeffries’ chambers after a long and interesting conversation in the early hours. Dressed in casual clothes—jeans, flannel shirt, and work boots—he hurried to his truck.
The morning sun peeked through the tall trees and made an appearance just above the surrounding rooftops. The energizing yellow-orange sky helped to lift Templeton’s mood, especially now that he had received the green light to move forward.
A perfect plan.
As he jumped into the driver’s seat, the detective couldn’t wipe the smug expression off his face. The Chelsea Compton case would soon be closed once and for all. No one, absolutely no one, was going to make him look bad. The final outcome would be up to a jury, and frankly, he didn’t care about the conclusion because he’d done his job and closed the case.
He started his truck, giving it extra gas, and hastily backed out of the county building’s parking lot, tools rattling in the back. He knew that no one would see him; he wasn’t as recognizable in his casual clothes and he’d made sure to take one of his other vehicles.
His recollection of the conversation with Judge Jeffries kept him company as he drove home to get ready for work. He had a knack for finding out anything unethical or dirty where county employees were concerned. The bonus this time was the explicit photographs he’d managed to obtain of the judge and several sexual partners who didn’t include his wife. It didn’t take much after he had explained that he needed a search warrant based on circumstantial evidence because it was necessary to close the cases and to make the community, as well as the police department, content.
Everything was falling into place.
As Templeton thought about Katie Scott, he clenched his jaw. Soon she would fall off her high horse and everyone would see who she really was—a fraud, a poser, and a wannabe in the law-enforcement world. He would make sure her career at the department ended as soon as an arrest was made in the Compton and Myers cases. She had no business being promoted to detective over much more qualified officers and given a high-profile serial case.
He flipped on the radio and cranked the music loud. The beat infused his body as he thought about finally bringing this case to an end. He sped down the main road and took a sharp right, merging onto a country road. There were a few things he needed to do before arriving at the sheriff’s office.
For
ty-Two
The ringing of Katie’s cell phone ousted her from a pleasant dream at 7.15 a.m. She blindly reached for the phone on her nightstand and looked at the incoming number—it was Chad.
“Hel-lo,” she said, managing to pick up in the moment before her phone went to voicemail.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She sat up, trying to focus her eyes. Cisco was lying on the other side of her bed.
“I’m surprised.”
“About what?” she said, trying to clear the grogginess from her voice.
“I thought you’d be working hard on the case. Hammering out more details.”
“I was up until two a.m. doing just that.”
“That’s why I’m calling. What are you doing this morning?” he asked.
“Working,” she said.
“At home or in the office?”
“The crime scene.”
“What?”
“I’m heading back up to the graveyard crime scene.”
There was a pause, and Katie could hear Chad breathing evenly into the phone. Finally he said, “Want some company? Is the site signed off?”
Katie thought for a moment. She knew McGaven had other duties and was meeting with the supervisor of the K9 unit. “Yeah, company would be nice. Everything has been collected and it’s not officially a crime scene anymore.”
“I’ll pick you up,” he said.
“No, I’ll meet you at Highland Park, near the baseball field, in half an hour.”
“See you there.” He hung up.
Katie turned to Cisco. “I think I’ll leave you here to guard the house. Sound good?” She sat for a few moments petting the dog before she jumped up to take a quick shower.
* * *
Thirty-five minutes later, Katie parked her Jeep next to the baseball diamond at Highland Park. Chad was already there; this time he was driving his truck instead of the Jeep.
Little Girls Sleeping: An absolutely gripping crime thriller Page 21