by Peggy Dulle
“I see their pictures, there,” Tom pointed to Kathy Mitchell and Miranda Carter.
“We both thought it was strange that in each case, something was added to the crime scene.”
“I don’t get it.”
“My bracelet was on Kathy’s wrist and Miranda wore an Egyptian necklace that didn’t belonged to her.”
“How’d you find that out?”
I lowered my eyes and said, “Justin looked at the police files and watched the witness interviews.”
“I’ve got to talk to that boy,” Tom sighed. “What about all these other people?”
“We expanded our search, it was Kenny’s idea, by the way, and we found that there were lots of deaths where things were left at the crime scene that didn’t belong to the victim.”
“Kenny’s working with you and Justin on this?” Tom asked, that note of irritation in his voice, I knew so well. It came across when he felt left out of something.
“No, I was just talking to him and he made a suggestion and Justin and I went with it. He hasn’t seen this, either. How long have you been staring at this?”
“Long enough to realize that someone is killing people and leaving them with these trinkets, I need to call this in. You said Justin found all of this?”
“Yes.”
“That boy needs to work for the FBI. These killings have been going on for years and nobody suspected anything.”
“Does that mean I don’t get to work on them?”
“That is exactly what it means.” Tom’s voice was clipped and terse again. “You already have one crazy person out to hurt you, you don’t need another.”
“But Justin and I have been working on this for days. We’ve run several different scenarios and pattern analysis. We’ve even done some crime mapping.” I said, crossing my hand over my chest. I didn’t want another crazy person out to get me, either, but we had done a lot of work already on the case.
“You watch too much television, Liza.”
“Why?”
“Scenario and pattern analysis and crime mapping?”
“Isn’t that what it’s called?”
“Yes it is and I didn’t say they won’t want your input, but they need to give this to the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit or assign a task force to work these deaths. I don’t know which, but this is bigger than a teacher and a high school graduate can handle.”
“A teacher and a high school graduate are the ones that found these,” I pointed to the thirty pictures on the board.
“Let me let Ryder take a look at this,” Tom suggested.
“The new FBI guy, why?”
“He used to work at the BAU.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but then he got married and his wife wanted to live in California and didn’t want him working in the FBI. Doing these protective custody details is a compromise.”
“Okay.”
Tom called over at Kenny’s house. “Ryder, can you come over to Liza’s house for a minute? We’re in her office. Thanks.”
He set the phone down, turned to me and pointed to himself and then me. “I thought you and I weren’t going to have any more secrets?”
I pointed to the board. “This isn’t a secret. It’s on a huge board in my office.”
Tom scowled.
“Okay, it was kind of a secret. I did deliberately put it on the back of the wedding stuff. But that was to keep the FBI guys from coming in and using the office. None of them want to stare at my wedding information. It wasn’t specifically to keep you from seeing it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me you were doing it?” Tom raised his eyebrows at me.
“Okay, let’s say I called you a few nights ago and said Justin and I are going to look into the two women’s deaths. What would you have said?”
“Leave it for the Anaheim PD.”
I nodded, then continued “and if I’d have called later and told you that we were looking into several deaths where the killer or killers left trinkets on the bodies. What would you have said?”
“Don’t, leave it alone.” Tom let out a huge sigh, as if he were holding his breath since he turned the board.
“Tom, it’s like working a puzzle. Justin and I come up with an idea, we start investigating. We don’t have any idea who the killer is or why they are killing. We’re just working the puzzle.”
“Can I be specific here?”
“Sure,” I shrugged.
“I want to be in on the puzzle,” Tom used his fingers to put the word in quotes, then continued, “from the very beginning.”
“You won’t tell us not to investigate?”
Tom closed his eyes and sighed. Then he opened them up and said, “No.”
“Great,” I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. The kiss deepened, always a good decoy with Tom, but when he slipped his hands under my shirt, someone tapped on the door.
He pulled his hands out, just as Ryder stuck his head in, “What do you need Chief?”
“Come in and look at Liza’s board. Tell me what you think.”
Ryder came in and looked at each picture and the card underneath.
“Is there more?”
I pulled out the pushpin from a picture and turned it over. Attached was the information Justin found on each victim. He began at the first picture and worked his way through the entire board.
When he was finished, he said, “God, I miss this stuff, especially this old way of doing it. Now it’s all iPads and virtual charts. I like the feel of the paper.”
“What do you think?” Tom asked.
“I’d say you’ve got a serial killer whose been killing for almost a decade. I don’t think you have all the deaths. There are months missing and a killer wouldn’t quit for a month unless they were incarcerated or sick and there isn’t a pattern to the missing months. And it probably goes back further than six years, unless there was some kind of stressor at that point that started the killing spree. I like the suicides the best.”
“What?” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a nice touch. We never look at a definite suicide and think homicide. There was powder residue on this gunshot suicide’s hands and the blood spatter pattern is consistent with the suicide. It was a definite suicide. How’d he get the guy to shoot himself? And the snow globe is priceless. It’s my favorite trinket.”
“What now?” Tom asked.
“You better turn this over to the BAU. This is right up their alley. You need to send this to ViCAP.”
“Vicap?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. They’re one of the four components of the NCAVC,” Ryder answered.
“What’s with the FBI and all their acronyms? What’s the NCAVC?” I asked.
“It’s the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime.” Tom answered, then continued, “It’s the group you call when you got an unusual or repetitive violent crime. The BAU makes up three of the components, the ViCAP is the fourth.”
I waved my hand in the air, done with acronyms. “Basically you’re taking this away from Justin and me and giving it to them.”
Tom nodded.
“Who’s Justin?” Ryder asked.
“He’s the one who found all of this and does all my research.”
Ryder’s eyebrows went up, “How does that work? He works for you? And what are you exactly?”
“A very inquisitive woman,” Tom grumbled.
An hour later the board was blank. An agent took all the information, cleaned out my hard drive and erased all the information from Justin’s too.
Ryder told Justin he should work for the FBI and gave him his card. “When you decide what college you’re going to, call me. I’ll get a hold of the local FBI office and get you working with them.”
This wasn’t the first time the FBI offered Justin a job. One of these days, he just might take it.
When they all left, Tom fixed me a waffle for breakfast, then finally took some pills and went
into the bedroom to lie down for a while.
Justin and I sat in my back yard and watched Zoie and Shelby run around my yard, through the open fence and into Kenny’s yard.
“So that’s that. We’re done investigating,” I told Justin.
He laughed and handed me his iPad.
“What?”
“Everything is out on the cloud now, Teach. I can get all of the information back anytime I want it. We just shouldn’t print it out again. The idiot who wiped my hard drive wasn’t that good. I have a backdoor shield that is invisible. I keep all my information behind it. He never saw it. I can go in there and link into a different cloud account and get everything back.”
I smiled. “I don’t know exactly what you just said, but I’m glad. Can you send all the information to my iPad?”
“Already done,” he said. “It’s in your Dropbox.”
“I have a Dropbox?” I asked
“You do now,” Justin chuckled.
“What exactly is a Dropbox?”
“It’s a storage place. You’ll find an icon on your iPad. Just click on it and files will open. I’ve labeled one, Trinkets to Buy. When you first open it you will see files labeled: Jewelry, Knick-knacks, and Others. Anyone going in will see it and think you’re keeping a file on things you want to buy.”
“What happens when I open the files?”
“Jewelry is the victim’s photos, Knick-knacks is the information about all the victims, and Others is the different scenario and pattern analysis that we did and the crime mappings. Does Tom know the password to your iPad?”
“No,”
“Good, keep it that way and he won’t be able to get into those files. I downloaded and installed a program on your computer called Cloudfogger. It will encrypt your files, so anyone going on your computer can’t access your Dropbox either.”
“Again, I say, I don’t have a clue as to what you just said, but thank you.”
Justin laughed. “Use your iPad when you want to review the files. Don’t worry about what is on your PC. I just wanted a backup copy if somehow mine is lost.”
“The chances of that are slimmer than Armageddon, Justin.”
“I still like to be extra careful,” he said, “Go get your iPad and I’ll show you how to get to the files.”
I nodded and got up slowly.
“Stiffening up?” Justin asked.
I nodded.
“That happens when you’re in a head-on collision with a FBI sedan, they’re built like tanks.”
“It was better than the alternative,” I reminded him. I had already told him all about what happened on the road from Sonora.
“That’s true.”
I got my iPad from the kitchen counter and took it to Justin. He showed me how to access my Dropbox and how to switch between two different programs.
“If you just use four fingers and push up on the screen the programs that you are using will pop up as icons on the bottom, then you can click on another one and go between the two programs.”
I practiced sliding between Dropbox and Pinterest. I looked at Justin and said, “I can look at victim’s photos and then pin something for my classroom. There is something really wrong about that.”
Justin chuckled. “Okay, I’ve got to go and you need to rest. What are your plans for later?”
“Buy a new car,” I said, then added, “again.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve heard that before.”
I walked Justin out, closing the door behind him. Then I took another muscle relaxer and pain pill and climbed into bed with Tom. He never stirred. I’d like to say I fell asleep, but it was more like I slipped into unconsciousness.
Several hours later, I woke up with Tom still lying next to me. He normally never took naps.
I turned and poked him in the shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” Tom groaned.
“What?”
“My body feels like it was run over by a truck, no, make that a convoy of trucks.”
“Finally!” I said.
He opened his eyes and said, “What?”
“After the accident, last night and this morning, I felt like a wreck and you were running around doing your cop thing, and then working. I couldn’t figure out how you were still standing.”
“Practice and adrenaline,” he said, closing his eyes again.
“Do you want some of my pain meds?”
He shook his head, then grimaced.
“How about half of each?”
Tom nodded slowly and I got the medicine containers, cut each of the pills in half and brought them to him, along with a glass of water. He took them and then closed his eyes.
“I’ll fix some lunch,” I told him.
“Don’t burn down the kitchen,” he said without even opening his eyes, then said, “I don’t have the energy to get out of the house if it is on fire.”
“Okay,” I told him and walked to the kitchen. Maury left his ham and cheese frittata recipe in the kitchen drawer. Sure, I never really cooked anything that didn’t come out of a pre-made package, but even I could mix eggs and ham together. If it was good breakfast food – it would be good for lunch, too. The recipe was easy and soon the kitchen was filled with a wonderful aroma.
I looked up and saw Tom coming down the hallway. “Something smells great. Did you get take-out?”
“No, I cooked it myself.” I frowned at him.
“It smells wonderful and I’m starving.”
“That’s usually my line,” I told him, dishing up a plate with the frittata.
Tom chuckled and then slowly lowered himself so he could sit at the table. I knew from my own experiences this morning that getting up would be even more painful.
The door opened and Kenny, Ryder, and George came into the house.
“I smelled food,” Kenny said.
“I cooked it,” I told him.
Kenny stopped and put his arms out stopping the other man. “Let’s go to Denny’s.”
“What?”
“You don’t cook, Stretch. You open boxes.”
“I cooked it.”
“And it’s great. So if you’re not eating I’m going to finish the rest of it,” Tom said, holding up his plate for more.
“No, I’m eating,” Kenny sat down at the table and I dished up helpings for all of the men.
“This is wonderful, Stretch. It’s as good as Maury’s frittata,” Kenny said as he put another bite in his mouth.
After lunch, Ryder and George went back to Kenny’s house. Kenny stayed.
“What are we doing today, Stretch?” Kenny settled himself on the couch.
“After yesterday’s excursion, I think we all should just stay home,” Tom said, pushing on the table to help himself stand, grimacing.
“Well, he’s finally sore?”
I nodded.
“I guess even Supercops feel pain eventually.”
Tom scowled at Kenny and sat down in my recliner, pulled up the handle, and settled in. “I think there’s a baseball game on and I’m going to sit here and watch it, maybe take another nap, and not move.” Before Kenny or I could make any suggestions for the day, Tom continued, “And nobody else is moving, either.”
Kenny and I looked at each other and shrugged.
“He did save our life yesterday, I guess we can listen to him for once,” Kenny suggested.
“Okay, what do you want to do around this house today?”
“Game day?” Kenny suggested.
“Okay, I’ll get the games.”
Kenny and I spent the day playing games while Tom dozed and watched a baseball game. Kenny mostly cheated and I mostly let him. His worst game was Battleship. He kept moving his ships around.
“Your battleship can’t be there, Kenny. I already called several of those numbers and you said it was a miss.”
“Okay, I’ll move it someplace else,” he said.
“You’re not supposed to move it after you put it down in the
beginning of the game,” I told him.
“That doesn’t seem right. You should be able to keep moving it. A real ship would move all of the time.”
I laughed and sank all his ships, eventually.
Kenny’s best game was Clue, he always knew who the killer was, what weapon was used, and where the murder took place long before I ever did. We played four times and each time he won.
“I don’t want to play this game again. You always win.”
“You always win the other games. This is the only one I do win.”
I frowned at him and said, “And you don’t even cheat on this game.”
“I don’t cheat,” he put his hand on his chest.
I glared at him.
“Okay, maybe a little, but I never cheat on Clue,” he said.
“That’s because you win without cheating,” I told him.
“I have the mind of a detective,” Kenny said.
“More like the mind of a killer,” I told him.
He laughed and I joined him.
“Let’s bother Tom for a while,” he suggested.
“Okay,” We went into the living room and watched the game with Tom. He was mostly dozing and not watching the game.
Kenny started asking questions about the game, each ball thrown, the players, and every call the umpire made.
A few minutes later, Tom eased himself out of the chair and said, “I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“Okay,” I told him.
Tom turned and frowned at us both, “You two stay here, no leaving the house while I’m resting.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” I told him.
Tom actually laughed. “Promise me, you’ll stay in the house.”
I held up my hand. “I promise.”
Kenny held up his hand and said, “I promise, too.”
As soon as Tom left, Kenny said, “Where do you want to go?’
“I promised him,” I said.
“My fingers were crossed,” Kenny said.
“Mine too, but we’re still not going anywhere. What do you want to watch?”
“Not your choice in movies. How about we find something both of us want to watch?”
“That ain’t going to happen. You like those stupid comedies where people pee in the street. I find them ridiculous.”
“You like the movies where people get killed in every scene, cars get blown up, and worlds come to an end. I find them horrific.”