Assassination of a Dignitary
Page 36
“There are many cultures, The Korowai tribe of Papua New Guinea, for example, who have been reported to practice cannibalism even in this modern day,” Zachery said. “It can also be involved in religious rituals.”
Maybe my eyes should have been fixed on the freezer, on the horror that transpired underground in Salt Lick of Bath County, Kentucky. Instead, I found my training allowing me to focus, analyze, and be objective. In order to benefit the investigation, it would demand these three things, and I wouldn’t disappoint. My attention was on the size of the table, the size of the meat grinder, and the size of the freezer. “Anyone think to ask how this all got down here in the first place?”
All five of them faced me.
“The opening down here is only, what, two feet square at the most? Now maybe the meat grinder would fit down, hoisted on a rope, but the table and the freezer? No way.”
“What are you saying, Slingshot?”
My eyes darted to Jack’s. “I’m saying there has to be another way in.” I addressed the CSI, “Did you look for any other hidden passageways? I mean the guy obviously had a thing for them.”
“We didn’t find anything.”
“Well, that doesn’t make sense. Where are the burial sites in relation to here?”
“It would be that way.” Zachery pointed at the freezer.
We connected eyes, and both of us moved toward it. It slid easily. As we shoved it to the side, it revealed an opening behind it. I looked down into it. Another light bulb spawned eerie shadows. I rose to full height. This find should at least garner some praise from Jack Harper.
“Nothing like Hogan’s Alley is it, Kid?”
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Chapter 3
HOGAN’S ALLEY ORIGINALLY NAMED AFTER a comic strip from the late 1800s is a mock town used by the FBI in Quantico, Virginia as a training ground for future special agents. Placed on ten plus acres, the government built it with the aid of Hollywood set designers. The fact that Jack mentioned it by comparison rendered me silent.
I latched eyes with him before studying the size of the hole. It was just large enough to fit the freezer through if turned and taken in lengthwise.
“This guy did a lot of planning,” Paige said. She moved closer to the tunnel entrance. “He definitely didn’t want to get caught and probably never thought he would. That could be the elevated thinking of a narcissist.”
Jack watched her speak, and something about the way his eyes fell, tracing to her lips, made me wonder about the nature of their relationship.
“Well, I’d definitely peg him as a psychotic too. Narcissists usually only kill if it’s the result of a personal affront. But this man gutted his victims and grinded their intestines. Who knows if he ate them?” A visible shiver ran through Paige, and for some reason gauging her reaction intensified the severity of the situation.
For the last while, the training had taken over. I had cataloged the victims as fictional, not once living and breathing individuals. With the snap back to reality, I became aware of the presence of death and the way it hung in the air like a suffocating blanket. My stomach tightened and I felt sick.
“Question is, did these people threaten him in some way? Were they random? Or were these planned kills? The patience he seemed to execute with the cutting and burial indicates he was very organized. I’d almost lean to believe that they were planned, not random,” Zachery said.
“It could be they reminded him of one person who wronged him. That’s not uncommon,” Paige offered.
I was frozen in place, unable to move and incapable of thinking clearly.
The CSI hunched over and shone a flashlight into the opening. “It spreads out after a few feet. It almost looks as high as it does in here.”
“I want to know what happened to the intestines.” Jack made the blank statement. “Slingshot, any ideas?”
“The guy knew he was going to prison and had them cleaned up?”
“But why?”
I wanted to say, what do you mean why? I thought the answer was obvious, the question rhetorical. But I reasoned on the two words Jack spoke. There was little risk that this room would be discovered even if the bodies were. And if the bodies were, what was a little ground-up human intestine? Another toss of my stomach brought bile into the back of my throat. “I’m not sure.”
An ominous silence enveloped the room as if we were all absorbed in contemplating our mortality. The human reaction to death and uncertainty, of wanting to know but not wanting the answers, of sympathy for those lost yet relief that it wasn’t us.
The CSI made his way through the opening. His flashlight cast more light in the dimly lit space. I followed and heard the rest of them shuffle in behind me.
After a few feet, I was able to stand to full height.
The CSI looked up at the lit bulb. “The guy thought of everything.”
The electricity that had been run down here was basic and minimal. A band of wire ran from the meat room to here. But it wasn’t so much the electrical that garnered my attention.
To the side of the room, there was a stretcher with metal straps and stirrups. Beside it was a stainless steel tray with a single knife lying on it. Just like the table and meat grinder, light refracted off it. A tube of plastic sheeting stood vertically beside the bed.
“This just keeps getting creepier.” Paige took up position beside me.
“Say that again,” Deputy White said. “’Cuse me.” A hand snapped up to cover his mouth.
Jack was the last to come through the tunnel. I swear even he paused when his eyes settled on the items in the room. “What do you make of it, Kid?”
I put both hands on my hips. The one near the gun wanted to pull it on the man, but my control won out. Why was it only me who needed to provide the answers?
“He killed them here.” I pointed back to where we came from. “Ground up their intestines in there.” I felt sick.
“Whoa nicely put, Pending,” Zachery said.
“And how did he get them down here?”
“Well, there’s got to be another way in. The freezer alone discloses that, and I mean obviously he wouldn’t be able to make the victims go down the ladder, past the meat grinder.” I took a deep breath. Tell me this is the worst we will ever have to deal with. I wanted to say the words audibly but knew it would be construed as a weakness. “There has to be another way in here, a passageway that connects to the burial sites.”
Paige said, “Bingham—”
“You assume,” Jack corrected her. “Maybe he worked with someone from the start. They picked the victims and brought them here.”
She disregarded him. “Bingham brought them down through the passageway that comes off the cellar. Maybe he drugged them or held them at gunpoint—”
“Or knife point.”
Paige rolled her eyes.
I looked forward to the day I could express myself in that manner to the Supervisory Special Agent.
“Whatever. The point is he had a system worked out. Bring them down, bring them in here, cut them, kill them, gut them—”
“You’re assuming he didn’t gut them while alive.”
The deputy tightened the placement of his hand over his mouth and swiveled his hips to the right.
“You said kill them, and then gut them?” Jack asked.
“Either way.” A large exhale moved her hair briefly upward. “Gut them to kill them. There you happy? He’s one sick son of a bitch either way.”
“And he just went away on a fluke charge, killing cows and assaulting a neighbor.” I knew once the words came out I should have thought them through. Deputy White looked capable of hauling me to the field and flogging me.
“Cattle are a v-very important investment ’round here. Farmin’ is what we people do. It’s to be respected an’ so is the livestock.”
The hin
t of a smirk dusted Jack’s lips. My discomfort brought him happiness. I felt my earlobes heat with anger.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean?” Both the Kentucky-bred deputy and the local CSI kept their eyes on me.
“He has ten bodies buried underneath his property. Ten human bodies. There’s a freezer which seems to have been used to hold the unspeakable.” My arms pointed in both directions. “Numerous passageways, all the secrecy. Who was this guy really? And don’t say a killer. Because I think he was more than that.”
“What are you saying, Slingshot?”
“He didn’t kill them like this for no reason.” I gestured toward Zachery. “Maybe it’s something to do with that coinherence symbol of his, or maybe it has something to do with the health profession, but whatever it is, it was for a reason. This guy had something to say.”
Zachery stepped toward me. I moved back. He said, “The killers always have something to say.”
“Well, I believe this one has more to say than most.” All of them watched me as if I were about to shed light on the case. I wish I were
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Overview of Assassination of a Dignitary
The Italian Mafia never forgets...
Raymond Hunter’s dark past has returned and demands one final favor. Now fifteen years later, settled as an accountant and family man, he assumed life would be calm. He thought wrong. The Italian mafia wants him back.
The directions were simple: Kill Governor Behler and be out for good.
Despite the odd request since the mafia typically respects dignitaries, in order to protect his family, he has no choice but to accept the job. He picks the date and location Niagara Falls, New York two hundred and forty miles away. But by the time he returns home, he finds out the assassination attempt failed, his family has been kidnapped, and he has twenty-four hours to set things right if he wants to see them again.
With time running out, Raymond discovers the real reason they wanted Behler dead and finds out he’s placed himself and his family right in the middle of a mafia power struggle. What he doesn’t realize is that law enforcement is also closing in.
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About the Author
CAROLYN ARNOLD is the international best-selling and award-winning author of the Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher, and McKinley Mystery series. She is the only author with POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT.™
Carolyn was born in a small town, but that doesn’t keep her from dreaming big. And on par with her large dreams is her overactive imagination that conjures up killers and cases to solve. She currently lives in a city near Toronto with her husband and two beagles, Max and Chelsea. She is also a member of Crime Writers of Canada.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Epilogue
Note to Readers
Newsletter
Preview of Eleven
Overview of Assassination of a Dignitary
About the Author