No Ordinary Killer

by Rita Karnopp

“Please insert four quarters or press one to make a collect call.”

  Cooper pressed 1 and waited. “You have a collect call from … please state your name.”

  “Detective Josh Arnott with the Great Falls Police Department,” he said.

  “Will you accept the charges?”

  “Badge number, please?”

  Cooper gave Dallas a helpless glance and was surprised when she held up fingers for him. “Badge number 13980.”

  “Yes, we will accept the charges.”

  After several clicks, Cooper said, “Please connect me to Captain Vilas Gulchinski.”

  “Is this an emergency, Detective Arnott?”

  “Yes, this is an emergency.” Cooper tipped the phone for Dallas to share. He smiled as she pressed her head into his.

  “Where the hell have you two been?”

  “We’re just fine, thank you, sir. And how did you know it was us?”

  “I’m looking through the window of my office and staring at Arnott sitting at his desk. You mind telling me why you couldn’t say your name?”

  “Is your door closed, Captain?

  “Yes, why?”

  “We are playing dead, sir. Dallas has been shot—“

  “Shot? What the hell happened? She okay?”

  “I’m just fine … well, I’m okay, Captain. To make a long story short, we were driven off the road, I was shot, Cooper was hit over the head … I still think he needs stiches. We were drugged and taken to a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, and then nearly blown up.”

  “What the hell? You sure you didn’t forget anything?”

  “Matter-of-fact,” Cooper said lightly, “she forgot to mention the wolves that came close to eating us for dinner.” He laughed and she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “I’m getting the eagle eye, so I think a few are wondering if I’ve gotten in touch with you. What’s your plan?”

  “Well, we have a truck that’s nearly out of gas at the turn-off at Ulm. We’d like to have it processed. It belongs to a couple of guys that … well they were supposed to kill us. Instead the cabin blew up when they opened the front door. There’s nothing left of them. The guy that hired them might have rigged it … we think he’s our killer.”

  “Uhhhh so that’s why the decision to play dead. Have to say I agree. Cooper, you know where my house is. Molly talked our son into taking a few days off with her and they flew to Wisconsin to watch a Packer game with her family. I was supposed to go, but this case is too involved. I didn’t want to totally disappoint her. Anyway, find the birdhouse on a post, there’s a key in a slot in the back. Let yourself in.”

  “We have no cash, no phones, and no way to get there.”

  “Well, aren’t you two the helpless pair. Pete and his girlfriend are just out of school. I’ll ask him to drive down and pick you up. He’s driving my old navy-blue Jeep. Stay on the low and climb in the back seat preferably without witnesses. I’ll have Pete call me after the pickup, then I’ll send a team to get that truck.”

  “Thanks, Captain. We knew we could count on you. Do one more thing for us. Have Arnott or Maxwell take several photos of the case board for us to study. You might have them join us at the house later tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’m in agreement. Hang tight.”

  “Thanks,” he said just before the dial tone.

  “Who is Pete?”

  “Captain’s youngest son who’s going to the University of Missoula on a full-ride football scholarship next year. I’m surprised Captain hasn’t bent your ear with that one.”

  “He’s been a bit busy with this case or should I say these cases. You don’t happen to have some change in your pocket do you? I could seriously go for a granola bar.”

  “If I had any change, I’d be getting a Snickers … hell with the granola!” Cooper grabbed her hand. “Let’s move to the side of the building so no one sees us waiting or getting into the Jeep. How is your shoulder doing?”

  “I’ll live. Not thrilled with the scar it’ll leave though.”

  “Maybe we should make a quick stop at the hospital and get it looked at.”

  “That’s not exactly low profile. I think we should see if Gulchinski can arrange for a doctor to come to his house and treat us there. You need that head looked at, too.”

  “I’ll admit I have one hell of a headache. There’s the jeep, he flashed the lights.”

  “Good idea. That didn’t take him very long.”

  “It’s only three miles, doesn’t take long.” Cooper slipped his arm around Dallas’s back and pulled her against him. They remained still as Pete stopped in front of the convenience store. His girlfriend jumped out of the rig and headed inside. Pete spun off and turned around, stopping next to them.

  “You sure that’s Gulchinski’s son?”

  “Yep.” He opened the passenger door and helped Dallas into the seat and closed it quickly. He ran around the rig, opened the door, jumped in and was leaning low beside her within seconds.

  Cooper was impressed that Pete made no glance or action that revealed he’d just picked up a passenger. Instead, he slowly drove forward, then stopped and waited as his girlfriend ran toward them with a couple of drinks, hotdogs and potato chips.

  Pete leaned over and popped the door open for her. She handed over the drinks and climbed into the rig. They kissed before he popped the rig into first and they sped off.

  “Nice job, guys. It looked so natural you would have even fooled me. You didn’t by chance buy that food for us, did you? We haven’t eaten in about two days.”

  “Actually, dad told us what to do.”

  “Captain Gulchinski is a genius. I’ll have to remember to thank him. I could eat a horse,” Dallas said, adjusting her shoulder into a more comfortable position.

  “Hey, Cooper. This here is my girlfriend, Jamie Winslow.”

  “Hi, Jamie, nice to meet you. This here is my friend, Dallas Fortune,” Cooper said, reaching for the hotdogs. “My God, these smell like steak.” Dallas laughed and reached for hers.

  “Didn’t know what you’d want, but we thought it would look stupid to drive in and out without a reason. Dad wanted me to fill up the tire with air, but I didn’t want to stick around that long. So Jamie came up with the food idea.”

  “Jamie, I like you already.” Cooper took a big bite and moaned his pleasure.

  She handed back the drinks and the bags of chips without turning around. “You two look like crap. You want to come to my house first? My mom is an emergency nurse at Deaconess East.”

  “Good idea. The less attention we draw at the Gulchinski house the better.” Cooper stuffed the last bit of hotdog into his mouth. A quick glance at Dallas told him she’d fallen asleep already. He reached over and took her half-eaten hotdog. He’d deal with her later.

  * * *

  Megan pushed the send button and breathed a sigh of relief. No doubt Jessica would be pleased. One more murder to go. Megan stared at the empty page, waiting to begin the final brutal murder. She moved her fingers over the keyboard.

  What possesses one to take the life of another? To brutalize them and leave them as a clue of something more sinister to uncover? More upsetting than the murders and the stories they tell … the cops never get it right. It never means enough to them to make sure the guilty man or woman is found.

  He’d fallen in love with Dianna Holmes when he was a senior in high school. Every boy wanted her. She was sweet and friendly. She didn’t seem to notice that the guys couldn’t keep their eyes off her firm, bouncy breasts. She was shy and innocent and that alone was exciting to all the boys, including him. She went with her family to church every Sunday. They sat two pews ahead of him and his mother. He’d stare at Dianna the whole hour, and no one ever knew.

  He wanted her. He wanted to be her first and her last. He’d had a few girls by now and knew he liked fucking. Not one of them meant anything to him. It was something to do …and it felt good. He liked the game, the an
ticipation, the practice he got at getting to first base, second base, third base, then finally the home run. Girls would say no, and all the while they were saying yes with their body. He wanted them to say no … he wanted them to fight him off … the struggle made the conquest even sweeter. But in the end, they still gave it up. It was those few that wanted more after the sex that annoyed him. They called and left him notes in his locker. They wanted a relationship and he wanted nothing to do with them.

  That was when he realized he was different. Guys said stupid things like they were finally in love. A guy gave a girl a ring to go steady and all he wanted was to get in her pants. Why couldn’t he just be honest and go for it? They talked about feelings and that was the one thing he didn’t have.

  Studying serial killers in school created enlightenment and an understanding of himself. He didn’t know if he was a killer. But he was void of understanding an emotional bonding or a need to form an attachment to another person. The fact pure and simple, he just didn’t care. It didn’t affect him. He needed no one but himself. He had made one exception … Dianna.

  Bundy, his hero since he represented the epitome of serial killers, often talked about the spiritual oneness he felt with his victims.

  He often envisioned having a spiritual oneness with Dianna’s pure, innocent body beneath him. Hopefully it lasted … before the image of her legs wrapped around Donald Whipler’s waist while he held her bare buttock and slammed into her intruded. His sweet, innocent Dianna fucking the popular, totem jock in the boy’s locker room. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Their moans of pleasure. She pulled him into her … she cried out … more … more … harder. He couldn’t believe she was doing this to him. After they had finished, he despised how Don remained inside her, kissing her neck, her lips, touching her breasts. Lingering the union, all the while stabbing him in the heart. That was the moment his plan began to form.

  He followed her after religious instructions, where they both went on Wednesday nights. He’d overheard her telling friends she was going over to Don’s house to study.

  He had a conscious detailed plan. First he’d gotten Don’s laptop and ordered Rohyphol and had it delivered to a PO Box that he used to get Playboy and other kinky shit. Don was always bragging about it to the guys. It wasn’t hard to get the key from his pants pocket in the guy’s locker room.

  The following day he had to drive his mother to Missoula for a doctor’s appointment. While she thought he waited in the car for her, it had been easy to have a duplicate key made. He casually dropped Don’s key ring into his gym bag. When Don announced to everyone he couldn’t believe he’d found his keys in the side pocket, he nearly shit his pants. How’d they get there? Duh?

  In time Don would also have to explain how his pubic hair was found mingled with the pubic hairs of the dead, angelic, untouched, Christian girl, Dianna Holmes. Did other students know the two were fucking? If they did, it would only add to the vindicating evidence. Hadn’t he ordered the date rape drug? It was rumored Dianna’s father hated Don and all he stood for. The boy didn’t even go to church.

  As usual, he offered to walk Dianna the eight blocks toward Don’s house. It was a hot night, over eighty degrees and he offered her a water bottle laced with roofies. She smiled in her soft, innocent way and took the liquid and drank nearly half before they reached the first block. He suggested they take a short cut across the park and she giggled and leaned into him in agreement. By the time they reached his parked car on the far side of the park, nicely hidden behind a grove of trees, he nearly had to hold her up. Just touching her caused him to get hard. He had to be quick before anyone saw them.

  He drove them to an isolated spot near the Missouri River. He often fantasized making love to her on a blanket on this very spot, and now that dream was going to come true. Dianna was all relaxed and easy. He turned the car radio on and led her to the blankets he’d previously arranged. Her laughter caused his jeans to tighten. He stretched out on the blanket and asked her to dance and take her clothes off, as he had fantasied.

  She was a goddess as she swayed her hip. She took the water bottle and poured it across her shoulders, then moved her hands across her bare breasts trailing her fingers lower and lower until she slipped them into herself. He panted in want of her as she stood over him naked and ready.

  He pulled her down to the blanket and slowly kissed every inch of her. She purred and moaned. “You’re driving me crazy. Take me. Come on, lover, give me what I want and need.”

  That’s when he drove into her. She pulled him into her and gave it all. He ejaculated on the spot.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’re done. Come on,” she taunted. “I need more than just a poke.”

  Fury like nothing he’d ever experienced came over him. Her laughter and ridicule filled him with rage. How dare the slut make fun of him? She had tricked him. He gripped her neck with both his hands and squeezed … and squeezed … and squeezed. She lay limp beneath him.

  Bundy had said, “You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You’re looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God. You then possess them and they shall forever be a part of you. And the grounds where you kill them or leave them become sacred to you, and you will always be drawn back to them.”

  He had possessed Dianna … she was his first. The experience was nothing he had expected … it was so much more. Every fiber of his being was alive.

  He had it all planned out … and that was twenty years ago.

  Megan sat back, shocked at what she’d just written. She snapped the book Practical Homicide Investigation by Vernon J. Geberth closed. It had given her more than enough information to reach into the mind of the serial killer. She had to admit, it scared the hell out of her.

  A knock sent her nerves on edge as she headed for the door. She stopped dead in her tracks in the parlor. A lovely tray with an assortment of finger sandwiches, potato salad, lemonade, and a small veggy dish awaited her. Megan smiled until her gaze settled on a familiar manila envelope. Her heart pounded in her chest. She read the sticky note attached;

  Megan, love, you made this one hard on me. I had to do some real searching before I could find a case that would reflect the beginning of the third book. Do me proud. Consider shedding suspicion on others or are you going to keep calling the villain ‘he’ throughout the book? Enjoy your lunch and get back to work—we have a schedule to beat. P.S. Change Dianna Holmes to Michelle Rice. You have no clue how very close to the truth you’ve come. Hugs and sloppy kisses, your mentor.

  How could he possibly know … good God. Could he see everything she wrote? Could he see everything she did? Did he watch her and Dennis making love? The thought made her skin crawl. Megan grabbed a sandwich and leaned back on the sofa. She stared at the manila envelope for several minutes before reaching for it.

  The seventeen-year-old victim stared back at Megan. The girl had an innocence about her, a freshness. The crime scene photos exposed a gruesome murder that took place twenty years ago. The coincidence was unnerving.

  Megan snatched up the horrifying pictures, grabbed the food tray and headed back to the work room and set it down. She munched on carrot sticks and studied the pictures. “Who are you Michelle Rice? How did you end up like this? Did a total stranger kidnap you or was he your boyfriend?

  She reviewed the crime scene sketches and the autopsy report. Scanning the crime scene log, Megan paused at the names Elton Reynolds and Harry Maxwell. They were partners twenty years ago. Did the killer want her to notice that Cooper’s father was lead on this investigation? If so, what did it mean? Where did Michelle Rice fit in all this?

  She wished she had the courtroom transcripts. Michelle’s boyfriend, Neil Sands, was found guilty for the crime and sent to life in prison, without the possibility of parole. Evidence showed they had the boy’s pubic hair, date rape vial in his coat pocket, and even admitted she was pregnant with his baby.

  A gulp of lemonade brought tears to Megan�
�s eyes. “Michelle was pregnant?” Megan mumbled to herself. “Who really was the father of your baby, Michelle?” A spark of intrigue energized Megan.

  What type of event would it take for a shy, rather innocent girl to suddenly start sleeping around? If the police were convinced Neil killed his girlfriend, then did they looked for other possibilities? Megan had the uncanny feeling that Neil Sands had spent twenty years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. And with that thought, Megan discovered the connecting thread. Another murder the cops got wrong.

  The last page of the report revealed a startling fact highlighted in bright yellow and circled in red. Detectives Elton Reynolds and Harry Maxwell received commendations for their handling of the investigation. This information seemed important to the killer. Why?

  Did the killer have a connection with Cooper’s father? Or was the killer pointing a finger at the seasoned member of Cooper’s team, Harry Maxwell? Did one or both detectives plant the evidence on young Neil?

  What about Michelle’s father. He hated Neil dating his daughter. He wasn’t Catholic and was a near failing student who paved his way with good looks and sports. Yet, she couldn’t believe the father would have access to plant the necessary evidence. But a detective on the case would.

  Devouring the tasty potato salad, Megan ran scenario after scenario. What she did know … the wrong man … a boy twenty years ago … went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.

  An epiphany caused goose bumps across her arms. If she could prove Neil Sands innocent, and reveal the real killer, she could be a millionaire. Hell, she’d get an exclusive interview with the kid and write his story. Megan smiled to herself and snapped a carrot in half. This third story was going to be a killer.

  * * *

  “We’re here,” Pete said, turning into the drive.

  “Stop,” Jamie said. “That’s really strange.”

  “What’s really strange, Jamie?” Cooper stayed low in the back seat.

  “Mom never leaves the garage door open or parks in the middle like that.”