Joe took his cue and stood. Draining the bottle, he handed it to Kent and turned to leave. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear about that search warrant.”
“I’ll have a team ready to go.”
When Joe opened the door to walk out, Dexter shot in past him. The dog raced into the house and stopped at a braided rug in the center of the living room. Shoving his nose to it, he began clawing furiously at the wooden floor.
“Jesus Christ, Oz! How many times do I have to tell you to get control of that goddamn dog? He’s going to scratch my floor! And that rug has been in my family for three generations!”
Joe said nothing in response to Kent’s outburst, giving the ME an inscrutable look, studying him while his attention was focused on the dog. Kent was furious and having a hard time keeping his shit together.
“Dexter, come!” The dog’s head snapped up, they locked eyes, and Dex stood down. He didn’t want to leave, but his training demanded he obey. “I’m sorry about that,” Joe apologized as his K-9 partner sulked toward the door. “He usually has better manners than that.”
“Not from what I’ve seen. Just get him out of here.” Kent grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled something on it, and handed it to Joe. “This is my land line. Call next time before dropping by uninvited.”
“Sure.” Joe pocketed the scrap of paper and opened the door for Dex to walk out. “I’ll call you when I get that warrant for Heinz.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I need another warrant—like right now.” When his response was met with silence, Joe glanced at his cell and cursed. As he wove through the winding back roads, his display vacillated between one and two bars. “You there, Tink? Did you hear me?”
Joe knew how crazy this sounded, but just in case he wasn’t sure, Sam was happy to help him out.
“Yeah, I hear you, Troyer. And just to be clear, you want me to convince a judge to give you a search warrant for Bill Kent, the chief county medical examiner and lead forensic pathologist, because you went to his house and your cadaver dog is telling you that someone’s dead in there? You know what he does for a living, right? He cuts up dead people. The smell is probably on his clothes. You realize how crazy this sounds?”
“Yes, I do.” It was a long shot, but Joe’s cop senses had been tingling ever since he’d read the coroner’s reports from Eau Claire County and found Bill Kent’s signature on the documents. “I’m asking you to trust me on this, Tink.”
“It’s not just your ass you’re putting on the line here, Joe. It’s mine. And I like my ass. It’s a nice ass.”
“It’s a fine ass, Tink, but you gotta listen to me. Dexter searches for the remains of dead people, and he has never been wrong—not once. He didn’t go to Kent’s closet, or to his laundry, or to Kent himself. He went to a rug in the middle of his goddamn living room. I’m telling you that someone is dead in that house. His grandmother could be rotting in the root cellar for all I know. But here are the facts: He didn’t disclose to me that he’s worked a case similar to this one fifteen years ago, and he was cagey as shit when I questioned him about it. My dog is telling me something is wrong, my gut is telling me something is wrong, and I’ve got another missing girl. I’ve also got a guy I’m ready to arrest for murder based on evidence which only Kent has handled. I’m going back inside that house with or without a warrant. It’s up to you how legal you want to do this, and how admissible you want that evidence to be.”
Sam’s sigh came across the line, and Joe knew had her.
“Fine…but don’t do anything until I get you that warrant. You hear me? If you’re right, the last thing we need is a killer going free because you screwed the pooch. Where are you going right now?”
Joe wanted to swing by Hannah’s and let her know he’d be working late, but he needed to get back to the office and keep digging for a connection to Kent, anything that he could give Sam that would help her convince a judge to sign off on a warrant based essentially on nothing but circumstantial evidence and a hunch. A judge would argue Kent was not required to disclose previous cases he’d worked on. He’d also argue Kent was only doing his job. The conviction in Eau Claire was clean and tight—clean enough that Root’s appeal had been denied three times.
He needed more…and something told him he wasn’t going to find it in the present. What had Kent told him? Motivation? The key to breaking this case was understanding the killer’s motives.
Clever fucking prick…he’s been steering my goddamn murder investigation all along. Yeah, well, that was about to end. Somewhere long ago, this sonofabitch had made a mistake. Joe just needed to find it.
“I’m heading back to the station to make a few calls. Have you track down an IP address for Rebecca Fisher yet?”
“Yep, the Lancaster Public Library. Another dead end.”
“I’m not surprised. If it is Kent, he’s been doing this a long damn time. He’s gotten good at covering his tracks, and he’s smart.”
“All right, say I do believe you and it is him. Answer me this… Why? Why is he targeting these girls? He doesn’t fit my profile.”
“Doesn’t he? Think about it. Kent is middle aged, he’s in a position of authority, he can move around undetected because he belongs in the fucking middle of all this. He knows how not to get caught.”
“Shit…”
“Right?”
“Okay, why? Why is he targeting them?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. The bastard just told me the other day that to catch this killer, I needed to discover his motivation. He’s fucking playing with me—and he’s been doing it since the day I got here.”
“There’s got to be something in his past.”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. Call me as soon as you get a go on either of those warrants.”
“Call me if you find something more I can use to convince a judge to sign it.”
…
Consciousness dawned like a heavy fog slowly lifting. Her body ached, limbs heavy. Hearing was the first of her senses to come back online. Scratching sounded above her…frenzied, incessant digging. A sharp muffled command and then the noise stopped. Confusion clouded her mind. She couldn’t think. Where was she? What happened?
The last thing she remembered was heading to the barn. But this place did not smell like a barn—damp stale air and pungent earth assaulted her nose. Panic sent a rush of adrenaline flooding her veins, burning through her cloud of disorientation. She blinked several times to clear her vision and tried to open her mouth to call for help but couldn’t part her lips. She went to reach for her face, but something sharp bit into her wrists. Restrained…
Springs from an old mattress poked her back. Chains rattled above her as she fought to wrestle her arms free of her bonds, the skin on her wrists tearing as she struggled. The protesting squeak of bedsprings cried out when her voice failed her—a muffled scream. Her nostrils flared as she tried again, drawing the sodden stench deeper into her lungs.
Footsteps sounded above her, then stopped. A squeak of rusted hinges, footsteps echoing on the stairs, coming closer… A lantern glowed in the small, dimly lit room. As the footsteps approached, she turned her head to the side and met Ruth King’s sightless stare. The girl was naked, her body lying at an unnatural angle on the floor as if carelessly tossed aside. Terror seized her like an invisible hand gripping her throat, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. Noooo…her mind screamed. The cry of her heart was deafening. This can’t be happening…
The steps grew louder, muffled thuds on the dirt-packed floor, but she could barely hear them over the thundering of her heart. A man stepped around the corner then paused, and she met the eyes of a killer.
“Oh, you’re awake… I thought you’d be out longer. I was hoping to have her finished before you woke. But, unfortunately, I was detained.” He walked over to the dead girl, knelt at her head, and began gathering her long, snarled hair.
She watched in horror, unable to look away
as he fastened a rubber binder at her nape. After twisting the length around his fist, he pulled up, yanking the girl’s head forward, then took a scissors from his pocket and began cutting it above the binder. The moment he was through, her hair came off in his hand and her head smacked loudly on the ground. The sickening thud sent a surge of bile up her throat, and she began to cough, choking on vomit.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave you so soon. But I have something pressing I must take care of before we can be together.” He stood and placed the length of hair carefully, almost lovingly, on top of the small dresser in the corner. Then he turned and reached for Ruth. Grabbing her by the arm, he yanked her up and carelessly tossed her over his shoulder. Her lifeless body draped over him as he turned to look at her. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you like this very long. I’ll be back soon.”
She stared in shock as he walked away. The heavy fall of ascending footsteps echoed from the stairs.
No one will ever find me here… I’m going to die just like all the others…
…
Joe made it two steps into the office when his name was called from across the department. Awesome. Deputy Mills. “What do you need, Mills? I’m kinda in a hurry here.” He didn’t slow his determined stride as the deputy jogged to catch up with him. He cut Dexter off, and Joe clamped his jaw shut to keep from asking the guy if he was always that unaware of his surroundings or just that big of an asshole. “Come here, Dex…” Joe patted his left leg and the dog came up beside him.
“I wanted to ask you… Can I be on the team to search Heinz’s house?”
“I don’t know if I’ll need you. It’s mostly going to be forensics.” Joe stopped outside the office door, shoved the key into the lock, then eyed Mills. “Why do you want to go?” He opened the door and gestured for Dex to enter.
“Are you kidding? When this case hits the news, it’s going to be the biggest thing to ever happen in Lancaster County. Think about it…an Amish serial killer? This has got to be a first. The press is going to go ape-shit over it.”
Wrong answer. “Sorry. I think you’re going to be sitting this one out.” Joe stepped into his office and closed the door in Mills’ face. “What an asshole…” he grumbled, heading over to his desk, and Dex let out a woof of agreement. He opened the Wisconsin files and reread through them. Something about this case wasn’t sitting right. Maybe it was nothing, but every angle needed to be explored. Joe wished he could do this in person, but time was one thing he didn’t have. Picking up the phone, he placed a call to the Wisconsin Department of Corrections.
After explaining who he was, the case he was working on, and what he wanted, Joe sat on hold for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually the connections were made, and after a series of transfers and repeatedly getting placed on hold, he finally heard, “Hello?”
“Thomas Root?”
“Yeah…”
“I’m Detective Josiah Troyer. Thank you for taking my call.”
A long pause of silence came across the line.
“I’m not sure I should be talking to you without my lawyer.”
“I understand your concern, but I’d like you to hear me out before you make that decision.”
“Why would I possibly want do that?”
“Because you’re the only one who can help me. And I don’t think you killed those girls.”
“Forgive me for being skeptical, Detective, but why would you believe me when no one else does?”
“Because I’m in Pennsylvania working a case very similar to yours, and the guy I’m about to arrest for it is claiming he was set up. Sound familiar?”
“Shit…” A long, exhaled sigh came across the line.
“I’ve been going over your case. You claim you’re innocent and that you were set up. But not once do you offer up any supposition as to why. Why you? Who would hate you enough to do something like that?”
“I don’t know…”
“Now that is where I think you’re lying. I can sense it, and so would any other cop worth half a shit, so that, my friend, is why they stopped listening to you—why they won’t believe you now, and why your appeal has been denied three times and is about to be denied a fourth. If I didn’t have four dead girls and one missing, I wouldn’t have believed you, either. But I’m pretty damn confident that if I can catch the bastard that’s killing them, I can also prove he killed your girls, which would then prove that you’re innocent. See how that works? You help me and I help you. So, let’s try this again. What are you hiding?”
“I don’t know who’s doing this.”
“I believe that. Now, what aren’t you telling me.”
“It will only make me look guiltier.”
“Hey, I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that things often aren’t the way they appear. Now, help me help you.”
There was a long, silent pause, and Joe held his breath, waiting for the guy to decide whether to trust him.
“I had a girlfriend, a long time ago. Her name was Mary Rabine.”
Ho-ly shit… “Go on…” he prompted, taking care to temper his voice.
“She was an Amish girl I was seeing in secret. I never told anyone about her, and she never told anyone about me. I met up with her one day when her family was away at the market. We were up in the loft of her barn…you know…getting it on. Someone or something hit me in the back of the head, and I blacked out. When I came to, Mary was dead. There was bruising around her neck and her hair had been cut off. I panicked and ran away. I was afraid if I told the police, they would blame me for it, and I was right. Because of the similarities to Michelle York and Chelsea Peters, the cops tried to pin Mary’s death on me, too, but they had no evidence.”
…
“How are those warrants coming, Tink?”
“I got the one for Heinz signed. He lawyered up, and the guy tried to derail it. That’s what’s been taking so long. You can send an officer over to pick it up from the courthouse. I’m still working on Kent’s. The first judge refused to sign it, and I’m taking it to a second. I’m waiting for him to get out of court right now.”
“I’ll send Deputy Frisk over right away. You’ll never guess who I just got off the phone with.”
“Who?”
“Thomas Root.”
“No shit?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle every time she swore. “Yep, and get this… Thomas Root was secretly seeing Mary Rabine when she was killed. He claims he was with her in the barn at her parent’s home, getting it on, when they were attacked. The family was supposedly gone. He said he was knocked unconscious, and when he came to, she was dead. He never told anyone what happened because he was afraid of being accused of killing her. Then fifteen years later, the same thing happens to Chelsea Peters and Michelle York. That’s no fucking coincidence.”
“No, definitely not. Thomas Root is the connection here—the piece that’s going to fit this puzzle together. But how…?” Contemplative silence filled the line. “All right let’s talk it out. Mary sneaks an English boy into her barn, and they get caught. Who sees them?”
“Father? Brother? Boyfriend? Those are the three people most likely to be enraged enough to commit murder. According to her file she’s survived by her mother, father, and a brother. There’s no mention of a boyfriend.”
“Okay, that eliminates one. Now the father and brother…”
“Father’s too old to still be killing these girls,” Joe pointed out.
“True. That leaves the brother. Do you know anything about him?”
“Only that his name is William Rabine, and when the police questioned him, he said he was at the market. His parents corroborated his story. He was never a suspect.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t off his dear sis in a fit of rage when he caught her shagging an outsider in the hayloft. I’ll run a search on William Rabine as soon as I get back to the office and see what turns up.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to get the team together to
search Heinz’s house and head over there now. Let me know if you get something. Oh, hey, thanks again for all your help, Tink.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
They were waiting for the entire forensics team to assemble before going in, and they were losing daylight fast. The team was waiting on Kent and Joe was starting to wonder if he was going to show. Fuck it. They were moving on this now. He popped the trunk and pulled out Dexter’s dark blue vest with bright yellow SPPD lettering.
“Five minutes, and we’re going in,” he called to the team. “Be ready to move, we won’t have a lot of time before it’s dark.”
Joe knelt beside Dex and began fastening the vest when a car pulled into the driveway. Someone mumbled a comment about Kent finally showing. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted to do was say anything to tip Kent off.
Dexter took his position at Joe’s side. His relaxed, easy going partner was now on point and ready to get to work. At attention, he scented the air before putting his nose to the ground, waiting for Joe’s command to search.
“All right, everybody,” Joe addressed the team. “I’m not sure if any of you guys have worked with a cadaver dog before, but this is how it’s going to work. Dexter and I will go in first, you guys follow behind us. We’re not just looking for a body. He can detect the scent of blood and human remains, even if the body has been removed. We’ll do a systematic sweep of the house. Once we’ve cleared it, I want you guys going through it with a fine-tooth comb, looking for any evidence that these girls have been here. While you’re doing that, Dexter and I will do a search of the grounds.”
“Nice of you to join us, Kent.” As he moved past the ME, Joe noticed his hair was damp, and he smelled of cologne. “I interrupt a hot date?”
Kent gave him a surprised look. “Why would you think that?” he asked, falling into line beside Joe as they headed to the house together.
“You’re late. And you showered, shaved, and put on cologne to go to a potential crime scene?”
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