Flowers on Her Grave

by Jennifer Chase

  “This is a type of King’s Gold created in a nursery—not the native plant supposedly coming back in California. There are variations—and anomalies.”

  “What could be so important about this plant?” she said. “My gut tells me that Andrews’ murder wasn’t about the plant, it was more about the circumstances.”

  “You mean like a random thing? Someone who happened to be at the place where she was camping and decided they should kill this student?”

  “As far as we know, she’s picture-perfect. There’s no jilted boyfriend, no issue with her family members, no life insurance. Just a little bit of professional rivalry over a plant?” She let out a breath. “It’s clear that her so-called best friend, Dr. Wills, who still refers to her as ‘Cindy’ had some issues. But to kill her—and kill her in such a brutal way? I’m not buying it unless there is strong evidence to suggest otherwise. Even though there was a set of antique knives in Wills’s drawer—there’s still not a strong enough motive to have that type of outcome.”

  “I know there’s something churning in your profile,” he said.

  “Let’s just look at this, like you said, in a random way, from a different perspective.”

  “Okay. What do you suggest?”

  “Let’s broaden it a bit, do a strategic search of homicide cases, most likely cold, of course, in the three surrounding counties. I’ll look at my database for any case that looks remotely similar.”

  “From what dates?”

  “Any time within the twelve years,” she said. “We’re looking for victims who have been sliced in a systematic way and left in a staged position, not just dumped, similar to Cynthia Andrews’ murder scene.”

  “Got it,” he said, instantly losing himself in the computer.

  When she first started the job, Katie had begun working on a database of all the cold cases so she could easily narrow them down by the crime, event, scene, available evidence, workability and solvability. All of these aspects would help her to choose her next case accordingly or make comparisons. She printed out the several sheets with all the sheriff’s department’s cold cases. They would grow in number each month as old cases from upstairs become cold cases.

  There were four possible cases in the county that might closely replicate the type of injury she was looking for, but none were exact matches. And after searching through boxes and reading more autopsy reports and viewing more crime scene photos than she would have liked, Katie came up with zero possibilities.

  She went back to her office. “No luck,” she said. “What do you have?”

  “Some reports are coming in and I’ve double-checked them with any articles written on the Internet about the crimes. There are two possibilities.”

  It piqued Katie’s interest. She leaned over McGaven’s shoulder to see what information was coming in. The first case was from Washburn County, a case where a young woman, Anna Blake, had disappeared from her home only to be found outside at the creek located on her property. She had been sliced up around the torso and left nude sitting against a tree.

  “Those injuries do look consistent,” he said.

  “Absolutely. How long ago was this?”

  “Nine years ago.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “It’s from Moreno County from about eight years ago. Dillon Masterson was found murdered at his favorite fishing area. His torso was gashed similar to the other victims and his body was left nude and spread-eagle at the edge of the Themes River.”

  “This is the problem with jurisdiction separations. No one shares information or talks to one another,” said Katie, annoyed. “It should be mandatory that anytime there’s a cold case, especially a homicide, it should be followed up with at least surrounding areas or county police departments.”

  “That’s all for now, but look at those wounds on the bodies,” he said, studying crime scene photographs of the long gashes down each side of the torsos.

  “We can’t say with absolute certainty unless Dr. Dean has a look at the wounds, but I’m going to add them to the board.” Katie took her pen and wrote the names of the victims and plotted them on the map in the general area. “Wait a minute,” she said. “What age are they?”

  “Anna Blake was 21 and Dillon Masterson was 22.”

  “Both so young. Do me a favor and see if they were registered at Sacramento.”

  “Excellent idea,” he said and began keying in details furiously.

  “So our killer targets college kid ages?”

  “Wait a minute… I’m getting some preliminary info from the university admissions. It looks like both of the other victims were attending UC Sacramento. You’re right, Katie!”

  Katie felt a twinge of excitement, they were making progress, but she couldn’t stop there. “Okay, we’re still back to square one. Who is the killer?”

  “I’m still waiting for the student list for all the classes that Cynthia Andrews attended.” McGaven said. “It will be interesting to see if the two other victims were in her classes. They would probably be undergrads, but let’s see if there’s any connection.”

  “Are you on patrol tomorrow?”

  “No, I’m here tomorrow and then patrol Friday and Saturday,” he said.

  Katie nodded.

  “What do you think?”

  “About?”

  “What does your board tell you now?”

  Her cell phone chimed with a text from Nick that simply read:

  They are rounding up the troops.

  “We’ll have to wait and see,” she said.

  McGaven wrinkled his forehead and stared at Katie. “I thought we were full steam ahead. We’re finally getting somewhere. As you say, keep fighting until everything shakes out.”

  “Sorry, I’ve got a bit of a headache and I think I might be coming down with something.” She lied, hating it, but it was the only way she could keep him protected. Katie was working out the details for the trap that would begin tomorrow.

  Forty

  Thursday 0745 hours

  Katie had been preparing everything she would need since 4 a.m. and was just about finished. Making sure her uncle was asleep, she had packed food, water, her laptop, remote cameras, weapons and extra ammunition in two duffle bags and loaded them quietly into her police sedan. Cisco followed about as she worked, knowing instinctively that he was coming along for the ride. When she returned to the living room, her uncle had appeared and was making himself a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, honey,” he said sleepily. “Busy day?”

  “Yes, we’re running down some leads and checking more statements,” she said, hating the lie but knowing that after everything was over, and her uncle was free, she would explain everything to everyone.

  She headed back towards her bedroom, but took a b-line to the spare room where her uncle slept to swipe the keys to his large SUV and drop them in her pocket. Back in the living room with Cisco in tow she said, “Bye, Uncle Wayne. We’ll be back late.”

  “Oh, you’re taking Cisco?” There was some sadness in his voice and he looked disappointed.

  “Yeah, I’m going to a rural location so thought he might enjoy exercise.”

  “Okay. Bye,” he said.

  Cisco jumped in the back seat alert and ready to go, as Katie got in and started up the engine. She waited a minute before backing out of her driveway contemplating if she was doing the right thing. A twinge of guilt for not telling McGaven or Chad niggled at her, but she pushed on, wanting to free her uncle more. As she drove to her uncle’s house to switch vehicles, she left a message for McGaven explaining that she wasn’t feeling well and she might be in later.

  It took her twenty minutes to get to her uncle’s house. Now when she arrived it represented something horrible and traumatic instead of all the wonderful memories that had been shared there. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she pulled up and parked. It took her less than ten minutes to transfer what she needed into her uncle’s SUV. She quickly took inventory
and found that he had stocked the car with quite a few things that might prove useful such as tools and some camping equipment.

  Before Katie climbed into the driver’s seat, she slipped on a few more layers over her tank top and cargo pants and switched out of her boots to hiking shoes. She had a jacket if she needed it.

  The large vehicle felt a bit strange to begin with, but she needed a four-wheel drive where she was going.

  “You ready, big guy?” she said to Cisco, glancing into the rearview view mirror and seeing his eager face with his ears pointed forward.

  It was time to set the trap.

  * * *

  She pulled up to Everything Outdoors at 9 a.m., just as they were opening up the store. It was a good time to shop and there wouldn’t be many customers—making it highly unlikely that anyone would recognize her. Inside her pocket, she found the folded piece of paper with four names and corresponding phone numbers. She dialed the first number and waited. “Yes, hello, may I speak with Dr. Brandon Wills?”

  The assistant, by the name of Gina, said, “I’m sorry but he’s in class at the moment. May I take a message?”

  “Yes, please. This is very important. My name is Detective Scott from the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department. Please relay to Dr. Wills that I’m about to make an arrest on the Cynthia Andrews case. I’m going up to the crime scene area now to recover something that Andrews hid and revealed in her journal.”

  “Okay.”

  “Could you read that back to me?” Katie asked.

  The assistant read it back to her verbatim.

  “Thank you,” she said and ended the call.

  Katie took a deep breath, expecting to smell gunpowder and hear the sound of gunfire deep inside her head, but was surprised to find just the odor of the leather seats and Cisco’s breath. For the first time, her debilitating symptoms were strangely absent.

  She dialed the second number, not expecting anyone to answer. Katie waited for the beep and said, “Dr. Harper, this is Detective Scott from the sheriff’s department. I thought you’d like to know that I’m about to make an arrest. I found Cynthia Andrews’ journal and she made a note about where she’d hidden some evidence. I’m going back to the scene of the crime right now to retrieve it. Thanks so much for your help.” She ended the call.

  She dialed the next number and waited as a couple of cars passed by. The cell phone was abruptly picked up, “This is Paul,” retired detective Patton said.

  “This is Katie Scott, did I catch you at a bad time?” She tried to sound like there was nothing wrong.

  “Ah, Detective, what can I do for you?” he said.

  “First, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for answering questions about the Stiles case. It really helped and I probably wouldn’t have been able to find the trail of evidence without your input.”

  “Of course. Glad I could help.”

  “I just had another question,” she said, looking at the sporting goods store, remembering seeing him buying camping gear. “I read the notes you wrote about ideas for a book. And it reminded me of a new cold case I’m working on.”

  “Oh?”

  “You talked about how killers take journals and keepsakes from their victims. Well, I’m working on a homicide case from twelve years ago. I won’t bore you with details, but what you wrote got me to thinking about a victim’s journal I found, one that the killer left behind. It led me to an important clue about the killer, a clue she says she hid. Can you believe it? I wouldn’t have given the journal another look if it wasn’t for your notes. I just had to thank you.”

  “Well, I’m glad that I could help. Just curious, which homicide was it?”

  “Oh, a young woman, Cynthia Andrews,” she said.

  There was a silence on the line.

  “Paul, did I lose you?” she said lightheartedly.

  “No, I’m still here. So you found a journal?”

  “Yes, she was able to leave a clue about the killer, which she says in her journal she hid back at the original crime scene. I’m heading up there in a little while to retrieve it. I should be making an arrest shortly.”

  “Well good for you. Sounds like you’re closing some difficult cold cases.”

  Katie forced a laugh. “That’s the whole idea. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for letting me see your notes.”

  “Anytime. Good luck,” he said, but his voice wasn’t as cheerful as at the beginning of the conversation.

  “Thank you,” she said and ended the call.

  Katie leaned back against the seat thinking she may have made a huge mistake. If her plan didn’t work she would have quite a lot of explaining to do.

  She dialed the last phone number and waited.

  “Hello?” said a man’s voice, strong and clear.

  “Hi, Mr. Teagen?” she said.

  There was a pause before he answered. “Yes.”

  “This is Detective Katie Scott from the sheriff’s department.”

  “Hello, Detective. What can I do for you?”

  “Thank you for seeing me the other day to discuss the Cynthia Andrews homicide,” she said.

  “Of course,” he coughed.

  “I just wanted to thank you for your insight.”

  “Insight?”

  “I agree with you on your instincts about it possibly being a serial killer.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, it got me thinking about how I had found the victim’s journal and it referred to evidence she had hidden right before she was killed.”

  “Really?”

  “I can’t go into detail until there’s an arrest, of course, but I’m on my way back to the crime scene to retrieve the evidence,” she said and paid close attention to his response.

  “I’m glad that you’re able to close the case.”

  “I feel confident. Again, I just wanted to thank you for seeing me.”

  “My pleasure,” he forced and he ended the call.

  Katie sat for another moment before exiting the vehicle. She had set the bait, but there was one more piece to put into play before she would drive up to Dodge Ridge and then hike more than three miles to where Andrews had camped.

  The bell jangled as she entered the shop. Within a few seconds, a tall thin man with glasses came out from behind the counter. “Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, are you Mr. Robert Harding?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s me. And you are?”

  “I’m Detective Katie Scott with the sheriff’s department. I head up the cold case unit and I’m currently working on the Cynthia Andrews case,” she said and watched his reaction closely.

  “I wasn’t aware that anyone was working the case anymore.”

  “I’ve been reviewing it and following up on leads.”

  “I see,” he said. “I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

  “Oh no, I’m sorry, that’s not why I’m here.” Katie moved closer to him. “I’m here to buy some camping gear.”

  “What type of gear?” he said, a little frostily.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been camping, so I need…” Katie looked around. “I need a tent, sleeping bag, and a good hiking backpack for starters.”

  “Come this way, I can show you some items that would be appropriate. Where are you going to be camping?”

  “Oh, I’m going to the Dodge Ridge area where your niece camped.”

  Mr. Harding turned to her in surprise. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’m following up on a lead. I’m quite confident that it will lead to an arrest.”

  “Really? May I ask who it was from?”

  “Your niece,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

  “Well, it happens that I found her field journal and she left a clue to her killer’s identity—a clue she hid up at her campsite before she was killed.”

  Mr. Harding’s face paled and he couldn’t
look Katie directly in the eye.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you, but I would hope you and the family would want closure.”

  “Of course. It’s… just a surprise, that’s all.”

  “It’s the best lead I’ve had and I’ll be heading up there today to retrieve it. It may take some time, so I wanted to be prepared in case I needed to spend the night before hiking back down.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She was in the store for about half an hour as Mr. Harding helped her to pick out everything she needed. She paid and thanked him.

  Katie was back behind the wheel of her uncle’s SUV and on her way to Dodge Ridge. She hoped that it wouldn’t prove to be her biggest mistake—or a fatal one.

  Forty-One

  Thursday 1145 hours

  McGaven worked alone in the office as he waited for backgrounds and miscellaneous reports to come back. He studied the investigation board tracking the information that they had so far against Katie’s preliminary profile. Something about the board bothered him. There was something that they were missing.

  He glanced back at the computer and noticed he had received several new emails, including one from the university admissions with the list of Cynthia’s peers. Sitting down, he opened the file and clicked download. “Let’s see what we have…”

  He quickly scrolled through the roster of names, which were for five classes that Cynthia Andrews had taken. There was also a free lab and students up for doctoral assistance. It wasn’t in alphabetical order, so it took a bit more time to read through.

  “What? It couldn’t be,” he muttered.

  McGaven pulled a file and looked for the name, but it didn’t give him what he needed. He used the police database and entered the name to find out who it was…

  John burst into the office holding a printout.

  McGaven looked up.

  “Where’s Katie?” John asked. He was clearly agitated.

  “She wasn’t feeling well and was taking some time today to rest at home,” McGaven answered. “What’s up?”