Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1)

by A Wallace

  “Yes,” she said.

  “We’ve had a stakeout at the Floriano’s Pizza Parlor since Lydia was abducted. All the officers were in plain clothes and unmarked cars.”

  His hands dug into his pockets, Murphy stepped towards them, stopping at the side of the body. “Unless the killer is a cop, how would he know?”

  Doobie’s eyebrows rose. “We aren’t dismissing the possibility.”

  With an adamant wave of her hand, Charley shook her head. “No way.”

  “It happens, Char,” Doobie said.

  “This person would have to be on the task force to know.”

  “Not necessarily. Every morning the precincts are briefed.”

  Charley released a frustrated sigh. “Great.” She stepped away, rubbing her eyes. “What actions are you taking regarding this theory?”

  “First, I had to rule out who couldn’t have. Afterwards, I enlisted them as my splinter group to investigate the investigators. Not an easy task.”

  “I hope you’re wrong,” Murphy said.

  “We all do.”

  “Who found the body?” Charley said.

  “The principal Karl Warren. He’s in bad shape. Older man, not sure, but finding her may have caused a heart attack. He’s at the trauma center now.”

  “Who found him?” Murphy said.

  “His secretary, Barbara Foley, he was grabbing his chest and on his knees when she arrived this morning. She called an ambulance and the police.”

  “It’s summer break, why were they here?”

  “Contractors are remodeling the auditorium and the gymnasium. Don’t bother asking about cameras, disconnected while the construction is going on. Plus no children around.”

  “I’m sensing a pattern involving security cameras.” Murphy sneered.

  “Duh.”

  Charley acknowledged his answer with a sarcastic smile. She dropped to her knees next to the victim, regarding their reflections in the oversized glass doors, the four of them captured in this moment of tragedy. Carmichael focused on the body as he held his lower lip tight to keep it from quivering.

  Charley’s head jolted from the heat of the morning sun on her back as the humidity increased to an uncomfortable level. A bead of sweat trickled past her temple. She wiped it away before she placed a pair of exam gloves onto her hands. She peered over her shoulder at Murphy, giving him a nod.

  Crouched on one knee, he joined her in the gloving ritual.

  Carmichael gestured for them to proceed with their environmental analysis of the crime scene.

  “Green flannel blanket,” Murphy said. “Handmade pillow and the flowers in her hands, five mock orange.”

  Charley scrutinized the area. “Honeybees are swarming.”

  “Mock orange produces boatloads of nectar.”

  “The flower represents deceit. Nine white patchouli candles. These are unused. Means he didn’t spend time with Lydia. He brought her here, did his thing, and left.”

  “He placed each candle in a holder. She’s wearing a green dress, gathered at the waist with a pilgrim’s collar. Same yellow bow in her hair.”

  “Her socks are white, same shoes. The laces are the same shade as the dress.”

  “Why didn’t he spend time with her?”

  “He’s getting frustrated. Whatever his goal is, it’s not happening. He’ll go on a rampage, attempt another to ease his failure, or he’ll cave in and quit. I doubt the latter. They never quit.”

  “He kept her the least amount of time, five days,” Doobie said. “Significant?”

  “He’s escalating,” Charley said. “Unconventional. He likes order.”

  “He’s a neat freak.”

  Carmichael turned the body onto its side. “The dress is way too large. He used safety pins to draw it up in the back.”

  “We’ve had dresses too large and small,” Murphy said. “He doesn’t know who the next victim will be. Otherwise he would choose the right size.”

  “Or the order of the dresses is what’s important,” Charley said.

  Officer Mendez approached the three of them. “Agent Dubuclet, we have something here.” Mendez handed Doobie the Halloween mask of Ariel, the Disney Princess from the movie ‘The Little Mermaid’.

  “Where did you find this?” Charley stood.

  Mendez pointed across the lawn. “Flower bed?”

  “It didn’t appear to have been dropped,” Mendez said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It was face up in the petunias.”

  Charley agreed. “Bag and tag, give it to Fleming.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Doobie handed the mask back to Mendez. “Guard this with your life. I want DNA and fingerprint tests done, like yesterday.” Mendez nodded in compliance.

  “Two masks. Annabelle’s was handmade, and now this one. He’s sending a message, but I’m not sure what.”

  “The clothing and the mask, they’re from the eighties,” Murphy said.

  “You think he’s digging in someone’s attic?” Doobie said.

  “How about a little sister who died when she was young?”

  “There’d have to be a trigger for the killer to initiate his mission,” Charley said.

  “All right, how about, he’s responsible for her death, not murder, accidental?”

  “Guilt, loss, we speculated that months ago.”

  “I remember. You said he had experienced great loss, and the guilt was overpowering.”

  “He kills children because his sister died? Wouldn’t the response be reversed?” Carmichael said.

  “Guilt is a terrible feeling each of us handles differently,” Charley said. “From pouring ourselves into work to clinical depression. It perpetuates obsessive-compulsion. He’s projecting, blaming the victim. He’s hostile.”

  “Except for murder, he’s not exhibiting any signs of hostility. He cares for the girls. They’re clean. He doesn’t physically harm them,” Murphy said.

  “The hostility isn’t against the girls, but someone associated with them. That’s how he does it. He lures them outside by showing them the mask. Being little girls, they were excited when they saw it. He tells them he has the dress in the car and offers to show it to them. Out the rear door exit they go and, bam, they’re gone.”

  “All this stuff he does, what the hell does it mean?” Carmichael said.

  “Serial killers are artists.” Charley stood in front of Murphy, tilted her chin, and locked his eyes with hers. “They create through destruction. They’re like little kids. They leave crumbs behind to be traced.”

  Wrapped in her eyes, Murphy stood inches before her. “They want to be caught, but on their terms, hence the crumbs or clues.”

  Their eyes remained tethered. “He hasn’t demanded credit. They like that. This one isn’t ready. He’s waiting for the perfect moment. What’s the point of doing this if there is no prize?”

  Murphy leaned closer to her. “They’re grandiose, within themselves. On the street they are bypassed and nondescript.”

  Charley gazed deeper into his eyes, refusing to falter. “Attention, they strive for it. They kill for it. They need it to survive. It’s a craving which can’t be satisfied.”

  Charley and Murphy maintained eye contact, speaking in unison as if taking a vow. “They’re showboats. They grandstand. It’s what ignites them. It makes them special.”

  “Oh, my gawd, pod people.” Doobie chuckled.

  Murphy’s attention lagged. “Who? Where?”

  Doobie flashed his finger back and forth between them. “You two, that’s who.”

  Murphy and Charley shrugged, and said, “What?”

  “This creep is a fucking asshole.” Carmichael pointed at Murphy and Charley. “The morgue, tomorrow afternoon.”

  Charley nodded as she knelt next to Lydia. Murphy stooped by her side, draping his arm around her shoulders. Charley held Lydia’s hand in both of hers. She closed her eyes and lamented, “You spoke with your heart. You cr
eated with your spirit and now your soul wraps you in the peace you deserve.”

  Chapter 41

  Blame the Pizza

  Manassas, VA - Medical Examiner’s Office

  Friday, 15 July - 5:00PM

  Charley and Murphy entered autopsy room two.

  Hunched over Lydia Edwards’ body, Carmichael clasped the edge of the table with one hand, and his jaw with the other, while his body tensed. He took a moment to compose himself before peering over the rim of his glasses. “Afternoon.”

  “Are you okay, Ansel?” Charley said.

  Carmichael sighed long and deep. “Sometimes, I hate my job. This case hurts.”

  “I agree.”

  “We will catch this guy. Dead or alive, I don’t care,” Charley said.

  Murphy cleared his throat. “What do we have?”

  “Lydia same as the others cared for, clean, no physical signs of abuse. Binding marks on her right wrist. A final meal was a hamburger, fries, and a carbonated soft drink.” Carmichael pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Sprite.”

  “She had a Happy Meal.” Murphy shook his head.

  Carmichael tightened his lips. “Yeah.”

  “Distilled water?” Charley said.

  “Uh, huh,” Carmichael grunted.

  “Cause of death?”

  “Helium.” Carmichael glimpsed at the ceiling and sighed. “His favorite form of murder.”

  “Was she bathed?”

  “Yes, and he brushed and flossed her teeth. He went a little further and trimmed the ends of her hair.”

  “That’s new.”

  Charley swirled her hand around Lydia’s hair. “The photos her parents submitted to the police her hair is in a ponytail or bun. He left it natural.”

  “All the girls’ hair was.” Murphy pointed at Lydia’s curls. “Robin was the only one whose hair was down when abducted. Is it significant?”

  “True. Interesting observation.”

  Carmichael stared at the body. “Lydia cried a lot during captivity.”

  “Explain?” Murphy said.

  “Her tear ducts are infected, irritated and swollen. Also, the throat tissue is raw and chafed.”

  “The candles weren’t lit, he didn’t spend time with her after placing her at rest.” Charley folded her arms. “Her emotional state was inconsequential. He’s smoldering.”

  “Any trace on the clothing?” Murphy said.

  “None. He laundered the dress and the socks before he dressed her. We determined the brand of laundry detergent.”

  “He didn’t wash the other dresses,” Charley said.

  “Nope. What would be the explanation?”

  “Mothballs,” Murphy said, “to remove the odor.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” Carmichael shook his head. “I’ll ask forensics to test for it.”

  “It shows he collected the girls’ clothing.” Charley folded her hands, tapping her mouth with her knuckle. “Somehow, a child from his past is associated with the killings.”

  “His trigger,” Murphy said.

  “Someone he was close to died, left, or something,” Charley said.

  “What time did she eat dinner?”

  “Around nine in the evening, close to the same time as the others. He may have bought the meal near where he’s holding them.”

  Charley tilted her head, her eyes narrowed. “Maybe they keep their video security maintained.”

  “Too much to ask,” Murphy said.

  With a gradual turn of her head, Charley’s mouth gaped as she looked at him. “He knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “When the cams are inoperable or their taping schedule.”

  Murphy smacked his forehead. “That’s how he decides where to abduct them.”

  “He’s doing his homework, knows where, not who.”

  “He could follow them, learn their patterns.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean he followed the Edwards around for a while? They hadn’t been to Floriano’s for a month, the night they went to the movies.”

  “If he spotted Lydia at Floriano’s, how did he know who she was, and where she would be?” Carmichael said.

  “All the victims are familiar with the killer,” Charley said. “They do not fear him.”

  “No connection between the girls,” Murphy said.

  “But are parents aware of every person their child knows?” Charley said. “At school, alone, I’ll bet there are five to ten people who parents have no idea their children know.”

  “But it would have to be someone associated with all the girls, there’s no one.”

  She stared at the floor. “That we’ve found.”

  “Charley’s right,” Carmichael said. “I recall my daughter would point at someone I’d never seen, and she had known them since grade school.”

  “Children also hold secrets, even if to the average adult the secrets have no value, but to the kid, they do. It gives them a sense of power and control. It’s part of the learning process.”

  Murphy pulled back the corner of his mouth. “Such as Olivia and Erin’s secret hideout?”

  “What about medical issues? The others had them, what about Lydia?”

  “None.” Carmichael said.

  She placed her hand on Murphy’s upper arm. “Let’s go home.”

  Murphy smiled. “Home?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chapter 42

  Two Brains, One Idea

  Lorton, VA - Faraday Farms

  Friday, 22 July – 11:40 PM

  Charley ripped her cap from her head and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. The evening included barbeque ribs and a Washington Nationals Major League baseball game. Murphy grabbed a beer and a bottle of white wine from the cooler. He jiggled them in the air for her approval. With an exhausted nod, she sat on a bar chair. He poured her a glass and sat it in front of her. After he twisted the cap from the bottle, he gulped the suds as he stepped around the counter and took a seat next to her.

  “One would think, born with a bat and two balls men would know how to play baseball.”

  Murphy snickered. “Yeah, the Pirates took the Nats toys and tossed them into the Potomac. Maybe they need more practice on how to slide into home plate.”

  Charley huffed. “Maybe, they’ve trained so much, they’ve become complacent.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  Charley sighed and gripped the rim of her glass and swiveled it back and forth.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  She crimped the edge of her mouth. “I wonder if any of the girls went to a pro game. They enjoyed sports.”

  “Not sure, but I would take my daughter.”

  “You would.” She patted him on the shoulder. Her gazed searched the kitchen. “Each victim had a different flower. What else?”

  “Dinner.” Murphy propped his chin into his palm.

  “You’re hungry?” Charley stood. “I’ll make you a tuna sandwich. I have red grapes. Salad. Would you like a salad? How about pasta with pesto? You love my pesto.”

  A warm smile formed on Murphy’s face. He took her hand and pulled her back into the chair. “No, I meant the girls, the meals were different.”

  “Oh, okay, but if you want something to eat, I’ll make it for you.”

  Murphy released her fingers as she settled into the seat. “I’m good, Char. Let’s continue.”

  “All right, well, Robin’s stomach contents contained grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and milk,” Charley said. “Olivia ate fish, mixed veggies, and skim milk. Natalie had roast beef, boiled potatoes, peas, and milk. Annabelle had pepperoni pizza and soda. Lydia, a hamburger, fries, and a Sprite.”

  “It’s as if they were on death row and whatever they requested was their last meal.” Murphy rubbed his eyes.

  “He kept Robin fourteen days, Olivia thirteen, Natalie, and Annabelle eight days, and Lydia five.”

  “All the girls are active in the arts and sports. Well-rounded, sm
art, plenty of friends, good students.” He tipped the bottle to his lips.

  “I can’t think anymore, everything repeats. I can’t find a connection, a purpose, nothing. This one may beat me.” Charley pulled the Velcro from her pants pocket and removed her tablet. “Let’s review the abduction map. We have Reston, Great Falls, Herndon, Burke, and Oakton. I gave each abduction location a red dot and connected them with a blue line in the order of the kidnappings. The diagram is shaped like a greater than symbol. After Oakton, he jumps south-southeast to Burke. Forms a hook. He heads northwest again to Oakton.”

  “The square root symbol.”

  “Where will he go next?”

  “Back to Reston. The path would be similar to the number eight turned onto its side.”

  “He won’t return to Reston.”

  “Why not? He went back to Bennett Elementary, knowing Floriano’s was under surveillance. He did it on purpose to create confusion. A trite move of superiority. There’s a good reason he returned to where Annabelle went to school. It’s a message.”

  Charley folded her arms on the counter. Her body stiffened, she gasped. “I got it. The Ariel mask.”

  “What about it?” Murphy swiveled his chair to face her.

  “This may sound crazy, but listen. Robin’s dress was blue, Olivia’s dress was pink, and Natalie’s was green and off-white, cream. Annabelle’s was yellow, and Lydia’s was sea green and there’s a mask. I’m a girl. The dresses are iconic of the Disney Princesses.”

  “You mean like Snow White?”

  “Yes. Robin’s dress was blue, Cinderella. Olivia’s was pink, Aurora. Green and cream was Tiana, and Tiana was African American as was Natalie. Belle, as in Annabelle, her dress was yellow. Ariel’s dress, sea-green, Lydia.”

  “Wow.”

  “The Ariel mask made my head spin out of control. Maybe I’m wrong.”

  “Is it possible he has an accomplice? I assume he has a job. Who’s watching the girls while he’s away?”

  “All had rope burns on their right wrist. They’re bound but left enough slack to use the bathroom and eating. Children aren’t strong enough to break a rope or cord. Tied to a bed and not be able to free themselves.”

  “Or the room where they’re held has a bathroom such as a master bedroom.”

  “The windows would be boarded or barred. No objects left in the room that would aid the child to escape. He leaves them finger food.”