An Unkindness of Ravens

by European P. Douglas

  Sarah was too tired for this, but she knew he was most likely right. She looked down at the paper and read the words for the first time. Was this him, she wondered. Was this the handwriting of ‘John the Baptist’? If so, he has stated clearly in this letter that he intends to kill again, but then, that was always a given anyway wasn’t it? Only the third body had been found already and it has nothing to do with this guy. Where was he going to strike next? Surely he would not dump another body in the Whitney State Forest? No one in law enforcement thought so, but it hadn’t stopped them from setting up motion sensor cameras in the forest and also having patrols swing by the roads surrounding the area much more frequently than in the past.

  “So what are you proposing?” Sarah asked Tyler. “Why are you bringing this to me now?”

  “I know your family history,” Tyler said softly, “If this is some sick game aimed towards you, I felt it only fair that you know about it so you can at least be on your guard.” She looked into his eyes and he seemed genuine.

  “What happens next?”

  “We try to figure out who his next victim could be, who he is. What he’s doing this for?” Tyler didn’t really know.

  “You mean wait for his next victim or contact,” Sarah said. Tyler shrugged like he didn’t know what else to do.

  “It’s not an ideal situation,” he admitted, “But we’ll all be working on finding out all we can, and no one, as far as I know, is close to even guessing who he might be.” Sarah felt a pulse of energy shock through her body and she knew he was right. If the police or the FBI knew about this contact with the killer, it would leak to other media straight away and they could lose him for good.

  “Why aren’t you publishing this letter in your paper?” she asked Tyler.

  “Two reasons,” he said, “If I did, I could lose him.”

  “And the second reason?”

  “It won’t help anyone to do it,” he said, and he looked away as though this was something embarrassing to admit. Sarah smiled at this and then thought on it a moment.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said, and Tyler looked back to her. “I’ll go along with this on one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “I need to see the real letter. I know you think there won’t be any evidence on it, and I agree, but I have to be sure. I won’t let anyone else know I have it and can have it back to you in a few days.”

  “How are you going to run any tests without letting anyone else know about it?”

  “I’m trained in forensics myself,” she said, “Didn’t you look into my professional background as well as my family one?” Tyler nodded and looked to be in thought.

  “If I do this, you need to keep me informed,” he said, “I could lose my job over this.”

  “OK,” Sarah said and then asked, “Who knows already that you have this letter?”

  “So far the only people in the world who know about this letter are the two of us and the killer.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Tyler showed up in the office of ‘The Baltimore Echo’ at a little after ten. He was eager to see his post tray, but as he came into the newsroom from the stairway he saw someone was sitting at his desk. Their back was turned and he saw only a crop of black hair, a head he didn’t recognise. His instant thought was that this could be the killer, but he knew at once this was nonsense. He walked towards his desk, glancing around the room as he went.

  Two other reporters, Peters and Surov, were in the small glass-walled meeting room looking at something on the table. They didn’t see him come in. Tyler looked at his post tray and saw it was empty and then looked again at the person sitting down. He could see now that they were not sitting at his desk, but they were close to it and facing out the window. Whoever it was had the look of someone waiting for something.

  “Hey,” Tyler said. The young man turned and stood up in alarm. It was like he’d been doing something wrong.

  “Hi,” he said flustered, “I’m Danny.”

  “Tyler Ford,” he said, holding out a hand. The young man took it and smiled nervously. “Can I help you with anything?” Tyler said.

  “Ah, I see you two have met,” came the voice of Davis as he approached them from his office. The young man nodded, and Tyler looked to Davis for an explanation.

  “This is Danny Kircheck, he won the competition,” Davis said smiling at Danny.

  “What competition?” Tyler asked.

  “The short article competition we ran a while back,” Davis said, “Danny won here and I’ve been so impressed on meeting him that I’ve taken him on as an intern. Correction, your intern.” Tyler looked at Danny and smiled and then said to him,

  “Can you excuse us a moment, Danny,” and he walked a little away nodding to Davis to come with him.

  “What’s the trouble?” Davis asked over by his office door.

  “I don’t want an intern,” Tyler said.

  “Well tough shit, you have one,” Davis said, looking back over at Danny.

  “Why can’t you give him to someone else?”

  “Listen Tyler, you’re the best I have, by a long shot, and I want more like you. I’ve told this kid to do anything you want him to but to learn as much as possible from you along the way. I’m not asking you to teach him how to be a great reporter, I just want you to use him and let him learn as he goes. Hell, you can have him making coffee all day if you want, but I’d like you to get him to do some research for you, or some proofreading- things like that.”

  “Who is he?” Tyler asked. He thought it was probably some nephew of the editor or something like that.

  “I don’t know who he is, but he won the competition and to be honest his article was actually good. I think he may have a talent for this.”

  “Why doesn’t he go to journalism school then?”

  “He will be, in September. He’s only finished high school last year and didn't know what to do with himself.”

  “Let me guess,” Tyler rolled his eyes, “He used to work on the school newspaper?”

  “Got in one,” Davis smiled, “But that doesn’t mean shit. He has the potential to be good, on practically zero training so far.” Tyler looked over at Danny again, who had sense enough not to watch them while they were talking about him.

  “Alright,” Tyler said, “But I'm not teaching him anything. He’ll do what I say no matter what it is.”

  “Agreed,” Davis said, and he walked back into his office without another word.

  Tyler walked back over to Danny Kircheck.

  “So, the boss tells me you’ve got some good writing chops,” he said.

  “He’s only seen the article I entered in the competition,” Danny said.

  “Have you got a copy of that on you?”

  “No, but I have one in the cloud. I can email it to you right now if you want to see it?”

  “Why don’t you do that while I have a look into a few things here,” Tyler said, sitting down at his desk.

  As Tyler was looking through his emails, one came in from Danny. Without saying anything, he opened up the attachment and read the article. It was short and focused on a case of a robbery of a liquor store in Baltimore a few months back. Though it was doubtful the kid had gotten any first-hand information, Tyler had to admit that the writing showed promise. He felt there was something a little familiar to it too and wondered was it close to his own style and he just wasn’t able to see it just yet? Tyler was impressed enough, however, to throw young Danny in at the deep end.

  “OK Danny, I read your article and I can see why you won the competition,” he said, turning to him.

  “Thanks,” Danny said, smiling.

  “So I’m going to let you in a big secret in the world of journalism. There’s a lot more reading than there is writing involved.” Danny had pulled a notebook and pen from his bag and was waiting eagerly for instructions.

  “OK, what do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “I want you to rea
d everything you can find, from any source, on the killer who has been dumping bodies in Whitney State Forest. It could be from anywhere, any newspaper, online site, blog, Facebook posts, Tweets, anything, got it?”

  “Yes,” Danny said, scribbling it down furiously. “Am I looking for anything in particular?” he asked. Tyler was impressed.

  “I want you to note all the similarities on one page, all the differences on another. Any theories at all you find, and any people’s names who have spoken or posted publicly about this case. Literally everything you can find should be catalogued in lists for me.” It sounded like a lot of work, in fact, it was a lot of work, but Danny didn’t bat an eyelid as he took it all down. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all, Tyler thought. There was no way he was going to be able to find the time to do all of this himself at the moment. Who knew what the kid might turn up without even knowing it. This reminded him of the letter from the killer.

  “Also, can you make sure everything you find is dated as best you can? If you can’t find an original date for something put the date you do find in brackets in the file next to that entry.”

  “When do you want all this by?” Danny asked, his face bore a look of intense excitement and he looked eager to begin.

  “By the end of today,” Tyler said and then he smiled when Danny looked at him in shock. “I’m only kidding, just keep working on it until it’s done. We’ll share a drive on it so I have access to it too and I’ll look in as you update it.”

  “Can I ask you something, Mr Ford?” Danny asked.

  “Only if you never call me Mr Ford again,” Tyler smiled. Danny did too and then tried out his first name,

  “Can I ask you something, Tyler?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Are you actually going to be using this on a story?”

  “You bet,” Tyler said, “This is the biggest story in this part of the country right now, and I’m working on it day and night. What you’ll be doing could turn out to be something that changes the whole scope of my investigation on this one.”

  “Jeez,” Danny exhaled, “That sounds important.”

  “It is important,” Tyler assured him. “You think you can handle this for me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Danny said, and Tyler was glad to hear the confidence in his voice.

  “Excellent,” Tyler said, “You are now officially part of the biggest story this newspaper has running at the moment!” Danny smiled broadly and then got straight to work.

  Chapter 10

  For two nights, Sarah had gone into the labs in the FBI Academy and run tests on the letter Tyler had given her. As they’d both expected, there was no evidence to be found, and there was nothing special about either the paper or the ink. It was frustrating but had been worth trying. She did think about handwriting analysis, but she didn’t hold all that much stock in this process unless the perp was already in custody and there was something to compare it to. This was also something she wasn’t able to do herself so would mean she would have to bring someone in on her secret, and she couldn’t do that. First there was no one she knew with that skill here, no one she could trust, and second Tyler would be pissed at her and be much less likely to share anything that came his way in the future.

  Now Sarah was sitting at home going over the case in the living area of her apartment. Marcus wasn’t home yet, and she promised herself she would pack it all up for the night once she heard his key in the lock. He was out playing basketball with his friends this evening. She needed a night with her boyfriend; their relationship needed it, she felt. She knew it was hard on him being with an FBI agent who just didn’t stop working and she told herself she had to do better... just as soon as this case was over.

  Going over everything she had so far, starting with rereading the letter from the suspected killer, Sarah tried to make new connections between snippets of information. Hers was the kind of mind that instead of thinking there was nothing more to be found, would assume she’d missed something. As she looked over things, she started to wonder at some of the names the press had associated with this killer. They all had to do with the cleaning of the bodies and Sarah agreed that this was the key thing about the murders. The act of killing was swift, a sharp blade across the throat, most likely from behind. The amputation of the finger was important but not so much as the cleaning, she felt. The fingers could simply be trophies for the killer, something that was common in multiple murderers.

  An idea struck her then, and as it so often had in the past, she couldn’t believe she’d not thought of it up to now. The cleaning, the ritual of it, the symbolism and care taken in it. It was something religious, but not in the mainstream. Something the killer felt was religious and that was key. What kind of person were they looking for? Someone close to a church but not a minister, priest or preacher. They wanted someone who worked alongside these people, the volunteers and laymen who assisted in running the church buildings and charity side of things.

  Almost at the same moment Sarah had these thoughts, Marcus’ keys scratched into the keyhole outside. She looked up and glanced back at the papers on the table. She had a moment to start closing folders or gathering up papers, but she didn’t take it. When he came in, she was sitting on the sofa and there was no room around her for anything else.

  “Hey,” she said like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Hey,” Marcus said and he half smiled, trying not to let her see his disappointment as he saw all the work laid out before her. “I’m so beat after that game, I’m just going to go straight to bed,” he said, walking over to her. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She knew she should say no, that she would tidy up now and come in with him, but she couldn’t. She had something and she had to work on it now.

  “OK baby, I’ll be in soon,” she said, gently rubbing his hand on the side of her head.

  “OK,” he said, and he shuffled off along the hallway.

  Sarah felt a pang in her heart as she looked at this, and she wanted to jump up and chase him down to their bedroom and just hold him. Something held her back though, and then the moment was gone. The bedroom door clicked shut and that was that. She felt sadness, but when her head dropped she saw the case files before her and she knew there was work to be done right now.

  She called a few of the FBI field offices in the States within the focus area radius around Warrenton and asked for new lines of investigation to be proceeded with that night. Local PD and FBI workers were to direct some resources to checking out laymen attached to any religious establishment in their jurisdictions. FBI would also conduct online searches on religious sites with mentions of ritualistic cleansing of bodies before or after death.

  More than an hour passed before she finally hung up on what would be her last call of the night. She sighed and felt relieved that this work had started. It would begin in earnest in the morning when all officers were in for the day shift. Could this be the thing to reel him in? Only time would tell. Now it was back to her most hated of occupational hazards - waiting.

  Sarah conducted her own online search for what the clerks at FBI would by now be working on. She knew she wouldn’t find anything close to what they did, but it felt better to be doing something. She focused her search in her own locale, thinking she could go to some of the places in the morning before she went to visit Malick.

  He was still in a coma, but he’d come through surgery, and though he wasn’t getting better for now, at least he wasn’t getting any worse either. She’d called the hospital a few times a day for updates and each time the answer was the same - no change. Sarah had wanted to call Tara, but she didn’t think it would be a welcome call. Instead, last night, Sarah had taken the chickenshit way out and sent Tara a text message. There had been no reply.

  Sarah had wondered in the past about Tara. They’d met only twice before Malick was in hospital, and each time Tara had been, if not frosty, then certainly lukewarm. She had to wonder if Tara thought
something had ever happened between Sarah and Malick - it hadn’t, or perhaps she saw Sarah as a threat. Either way, Sarah didn’t think it was justified.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning Sarah drove around Woodbridge, the area in which she lived. She had no solid plan, but she intended to swing by some of the places she’d seen online last night to check them out. Who knew, she could get lucky. Her home was well within the radius of Warrenton and the dumping of the bodies. She knew her own local police would be looking into this from today as well, but she felt it was no harm to add to this. It was most likely they wouldn’t get to it until later in the day anyway.

  She visited three houses of worship of various denominations, stepping in at the back for two services for a few minutes each. She watched the people who moved around in the periphery as the services went on, looking for some clue into the psyche of these assistants. In each place she went to, there was a mix of gender but certainly a bias for males - that was hardly surprising given some of the religion’s views on women. There was no one who set off her radar in these places thus far, and they would all be interviewed later anyway.

  The next place she checked out was a soup kitchen she’d read about run by the local Catholic Church in a shitty community centre they owned. She parked a couple of blocks away and started walking towards the building in the fine late morning sunshine.

  As she walked, she fell behind two homeless men who came out an alley in front of her. She assumed at once that they were going to the soup kitchen. They were heading in the right direction at least.

  “What do you think they’ll have today?” the younger of the two men asked.

  “Most of the time it’s just a vegetable mixture,” the older one answered, his voice jaded. “They don’t often worry about the mixture of vegetables either, so don’t get too excited. It could be onions and garlic with turnips if they are the vegetables that were donated.”