“How do you explain the blood on her feet and ankles,” Gary asked.
“I think he raped her and cut her throat over here closer to the clothes where this blood is pooled in one area on the ground,” Axel explained as he walked Gary through it while Ken Beck, the crime scene supervisor, watched and listened from the side of the scene.
“And then I think she somehow stood up and blood spurted out and down onto her ankles and feet until she fell in this area,” Axel continued while Gary followed him through the crime scene listening to his theory.
“Then he positioned her this way with her head facing downhill,” Axel concluded and then looked at Gary and Beck.
“Makes sense to me,” Beck acknowledged.
“I know, and it makes sense to me. I just wanted to be the one to figure it out first,” Gary admitted.
“Well, that’s our working theory for now. I’ll put all the evidence together and see if it fits,” Beck stated.
Chapter 2
While the evidence techs came close to completing their jobs of taking photos and gathering the last bits of evidence from the scene, the two detectives made their way back down the trail to their cars. The sun had begun its slow crawl out of the East into the Colorado morning sky just as Beck caught up with the two of them.
“Based on Axel’s theory and what I’ve seen so far, I believe she’s PPK’s latest victim. I took a quick look at the cut wounds in her throat and chest. They appear to be the same type of injuries the others had,” Beck explained as he opened the rear door of the van and placed his crime scene bag inside.
“What about the ‘X’ mark?”
“It’ll probably be there too.”
“When will you know for sure?” Axel asked.
“I can blow up the photos of the injuries that I just took and then I can make a comparison to the other victim’s photos. I should know sometime later today if they might be the same, but to be honest, I think they will be. Everything else matches. Dr. Ryan will complete the autopsy, and that will help in making a final determination on whether it was the same weapon.”
Beck then turned and walked back toward the floodlights off in the distance carrying more plastic evidence bags. Gary explained to Axel the details that he had gathered so far before Axel’s arrival, which included how a man by the name of Richard Lambert had come to discover Tammy lying in the woods in the middle of the night.
“Lambert claims he was out here alone. Apparently, he said he had a few problems that were keeping him from sleeping, and he wanted to clear his head. He believed a walk up the trail in the middle of the night would do it,” Gary explained with a sarcastic tone.
“Do you think he has any idea how stupid that story really sounds?” Axel asked.
“He didn’t at first, but he does now after speaking to me. But, with that wedding ring on his finger, he knew he had to have a good story to tell his old lady if by some chance his name appeared in this morning’s paper. I’ll interview him later today and find out how long it took him to drop his girlfriend off after they stumbled across poor Tammy in the woods,” Gary explained.
“Do you think he took his girlfriend all the way home before calling us?”
“I don’t know Axel, but if he didn’t, he probably dropped her off at the convenience store on 21st Street and called her a ride from there,” Gary answered.
“Well, call me later,” Axel yelled from his car window as he backed out onto the gravel road once more.
The early morning sun to the east was blinding him as he pulled around a bend where the mountains no longer provided cover from the bright star slowly rising in the distance and bringing in a new day.
Instead of going home and climbing back into bed, where he wished he was now, Axel drove to the Police Operations Center and parked in the four-story parking garage. At his desk, he once again reviewed the previous murders involving the Pikes Peak Killer, a name that was quickly assigned by the media to the current monster running around the Pikes Peak Region, killing young girls. The name was given to him by the local press who, undoubtedly, were filming near Tammy’s crime scene at this very moment. Axel guessed that the name, Pikes Peak Killer or the PPK acronym that some reporters used, could have been worse, but at this moment he didn’t know how it could have been.
He sat at his desk studying the old crime scene photos for about an hour, hoping to see something new that he may have missed the first few thousand times he had looked at them. He guessed he was really into what he was doing, or just tired. Either way, he didn’t see or hear Lieutenant Wilson enter the office. Wilson had been in charge of the homicide division for two years now, and in all fairness, he had done an excellent job so far, at least in Axel’s opinion.
“Good morning, Axel.”
“Good morning, LT.”
“Did you guys find anything helpful out there this morning?” Wilson asked as he stood there with his hands on his hips. Apparently he, like Axel, wasn’t getting much sleep lately and was growing tired of PPK.
“No, but it was him. I’m hoping that Beck and his lab guys will find something we can use.”
“Axel, I need something soon. If you don’t get something in the next few days, I’ll be forced to call in the FBI. This son-of-a-bitch is off the charts and has got to be stopped.”
Axel nodded. He understood that PPK was causing significant problems for everyone involved. He also knew that the FBI’s involvement, in this case, was a possible scenario, no matter what he thought of them. Just the thought of the feds coming into the investigation turned his stomach, and it only added to his building anxiety. He knew if they had a chance they would come in and take over the investigation, probably hampering it more than helping it. Not to mention how bad it would make the department look and how he, the incompetent detective in charge of the investigation would look.
With the FBI involved, and whether they solve the case or not, Lt. Wilson and Detective Frost would probably be reassigned to robbery or property crimes, and Gary, well Gary would just tell everyone to “fuck off” and climb into his RV with Carol. He wouldn’t give the department a second thought as he drove toward white beaches, tiny bikinis, and sunny skies.
Axel quickly dismissed the thoughts and brought Wilson up to speed on the newest victim. Wilson got up and walked towards the elevator with his notes in hand. With the latest details, he would make his way upstairs and pass the information on to the brass, which was just now getting to the office. Axel hoped Wilson’s meeting upstairs would go well. Everyone knew Wilson was getting more than his share of pressure from the police chief, who in turn was pressured by the city council, and of course, all of them were pressured by the damned media.
The media. Axel hated the press in town, as they taunted the department in their efforts to catch PPK. By their accounts, PPK lived in the community and at his own discretion, moved about the city at night, killing the innocent while the police department slept.
He looked at the bookshelf in his cubicle that held fifteen three-ring binders, filled with every detail of the murders that he had amassed since the first body was found. In one drawer of his desk sat stacks of high school yearbooks. The victims involved in all of the killings were from the surrounding high schools. Axel had been using the yearbooks to identify friends of the victims before their untimely deaths at the hands of this savage serial killer.
Axel made a note for himself to find a yearbook from Woodland Mountain High School, the school that Tammy had graduated from about three weeks ago. Her student I.D. had been found in her purse with the rest of her belongings at the crime scene.
He then made a second note reminding him to contact the school resource officer at Tammy’s high school. The SRO’s at the high schools had, in the past few years, proven their usefulness. They were considered valuable resources to the community and to other officers who were investigating crimes in which juveniles were thought to have participated. Now, he was using them to help build a victimology for eac
h one of the girls.
He thought for a moment to a few weeks earlier when he had to contact an SRO about PPK. Axel needed a yearbook that would display a picture of one of the victims named Christy Jared. She had been a senior at Mesa High School and was a month from graduation when her body was found on Rampart Range in an open area of the National Forest.
Christy, like Tammy, was also found beaten, with her throat cut, and she had been sexually assaulted. She also, like Tammy, was a popular girl and was making plans to start college somewhere out of state in the fall. But unlike Tammy, PPK had been able to cut Christy’s heart out and take it with him. The killer had six hearts now.
Axel had been sitting at his desk looking at crime scene photos for more than a few hours when he received a phone call from Dr. Ryan, the pathologist completing all the autopsies. He informed him that the parents of Tammy Johnson had come in a few hours ago and had made a positive identification of their daughter. Dr. Ryan also told him that he did not find anything in his first examination of Tammy’s body and that he would need more time to complete a more thorough autopsy.
As Axel reviewed the case file, he glanced over at his inbox. It was overflowing with new memos, faxes, and department information that was circulated to all sections of the department. For the past few weeks, it all had gone unread, and for a second, he almost reached over to clear it out but decided it could wait one more day.
Not that I’m procrastinating or busy with anything else, he thought.
***
“Who was at the door, Richard?” Elaine asked of her husband as he walked back into the living room from the foyer.
Elaine was wearing her customary Sunday white dress that extended below her ankles. Her shoulders were covered with a white sweater, tied along her chest, and she stood with the posture and elegance of a respected lady.
“It was a salesman. I told him that we weren’t interested,” Richard mumbled as he walked toward the couch holding his cell phone in his hand, hoping that there was nothing on the internet with his name in it.
“What was he selling on a Sunday in the middle of the afternoon?” Elaine asked as she followed behind him.
“Elaine, I didn’t bother to discuss anything with him. I told him I wasn’t interested, and he left!” Richard barked as he turned from his phone and looked at his wife.
Elaine moved closer to her husband cautiously as she knew she was already treading on thin ice.
“You were certainly outside with him for a long time, just to tell him that you weren't interested. I mean, was he carrying a bag with merchandise or something in it?” Elaine remarked casually as she bent over and fluffed the pillows on the sofa next to her husband.
“Elaine, are you trying to piss me off?” Richard said, raising his voice louder which was an indication to Elaine that he was tired of her interrogation.
Richard knew he needed to end this discussion. After all, he couldn’t very well tell her who the man at the door really was, and he knew, the louder he became, the quicker his wife would back off.
“Richard, I’m sorry I annoyed you. I just thought it was odd that a salesman would come calling on a Sunday,” Elaine replied in a soft tone as she attempted to calm her husband. At the same time, she reached for his hand.
She had learned from her marriage counselor, whom she often saw without the company of her husband, that affection from one party in a relationship could sometimes put the guard down on the other and deescalate the situation.
“Elaine, I don’t know why he came by on a Sunday!”
“Oh, all right. My dad asked where you were this morning at church. I told him that you got in late from the office last night and you were too tired to come with me,” Elaine stated, trying to change the subject.
“Great. Did you cry on ‘Daddy’s’ shoulder once again? Did you also tell him that I was out on the town partying all night again?” Richard asked sarcastically as he stood up.
“No, Richard, I did not. Why do you speak to me that way? I’ve done nothing to you. When you’re out late, and I call your office, and no one answers, I don’t question where you are. I should, but I don’t. I love you more than you’ll ever know,” Elaine said as she turned toward the window and began to cry quietly.
“I’ve told you, Elaine. I turn the ringer on my phone off because I know you can't get through the day without pissing me off by calling and nagging me and asking me when I’m coming home,” Richard explained as he moved quickly toward his wife clenching his fist.
“I know Richard and I’m sorry,” Elaine answered abruptly as she put her head down while Richard hovered over her.
She would agree with him in the hopes that it would end the argument. Elaine always worried that Richard would leave as he had done in the past. That simply would not do for her family and their reputation in the community. She had come to realize that having him home, not speaking to her, was better than having him gone and not knowing where he was or who he was with.
Richard unclenched his fist, composed himself, and caressed her shoulder. Once again, he had won. He then walked into his office and closed the door behind him.
Chapter 3
Axel was still sitting at his desk. He began asking himself a few questions in his head as he attempted to wrap his mind around PPK.
Why did he cut his victims’ hearts out?
Okay, here’s what I know:
He takes the heart as a souvenir or for some morbid trophy. He took it from each of the previous six victims, but with Tammy, he was likely interrupted by Lambert and his unknown friend.
I think he selects his victims after some careful consideration based on the victim profiles, which leads me to believe he’s a patient man and an organized killer like the FBI profile suggests.
Damn, who is this guy? Why’s he doing this in my city? Why can’t I figure out anything more about this guy? How does he always seem to be giant steps ahead of me?
Maybe the feds should come in and try to stop this guy before he kills another girl… perhaps I’m not the detective that I think I am… maybe I should be working robbery or some bullshit property crimes, and well… just maybe I’m too tired to be working on this now.
Axel was about to leave the office when Gary called with information about their midnight hiker, Richard Lambert.
“Mr. Lambert refused to speak with me at his house. He insisted that I call him in the morning at his office so we can arrange a better time to go over what he saw,” Gary said in the voice he only used when he was agitated or at this moment just pissed off.
Apparently, the first interview with the witness, maybe the only witness, to Tammy’s murder didn’t go over as well as Gary had planned.
Axel listened to Gary rant about how Lambert met him at the front door, closing it behind him, and refused to answer any questions about his or any other person’s involvement in the case until tomorrow when it was more convenient for him.
“I should've charged his arrogant, pompous ass with obstruction!” Gary proclaimed as he unleashed an army of obscenities about people who were rich, self-centered, and just too damn big for their own britches.
When he was finished venting, he told Axel how he had contacted the city’s taxi services as well, and that they had informed him that a driver by the name of Jose Garcia had picked up a fare at the convenient store on 21st Street at around two in the morning.
Gary also told him that he would have to wait until tomorrow to speak with Jose Garcia. Axel was okay with that. Unfortunately, he really wasn’t in the best physical or mental state of mind to take on a proper interview with a witness this afternoon. He was finding it harder to concentrate as the hours without sleep began to take their toll on him.
“Jose Garcia works nights, and he doesn’t have a phone. His boss said you can get in touch with him at their office tomorrow,” Gary added.
He thanked Gary for his help and told him that he would see him sometime tomorrow morning in the office.
; Axel made his way down to the parking garage and pulled out of the police operations center a few minutes later. He soon found himself heading west on Highway 24 towards the city of Woodland Park, where he called home. The trip to work and home was 21miles one way. He enjoyed the daily commute as it afforded him the opportunity to clear his mind from the things he longed to forget.
The morning drive was his favorite because of the view. The rising sun created an unforgettable image. It was a glorious sight to start one’s day. During the spring, the mountains would come to life and sparkle from the rays of the morning sun as it melted the evening dew that had settled along the rolling mountain grass.
The top of Pikes Peak would on many occasions be covered with snow in the early spring. That was the local photographers’ moneymaker, as the mountain itself seemed to be awakening with the rising sun for the one purpose of having its photo taken.
As he drove home, he tried to clear his mind of PPK, the victims, and the whole case in general. He turned the air conditioner on low, in the hopes it would help keep him awake. He was tired, and he noticed that he had begun to drive slower than the posted speed limit. He thought about the previous night and how he had attempted to go to bed early but had just laid there and thought about the case, wondering if or when his cell phone would ring.
In the darkness of the bedroom, surrounded by the large pillows that adorned his bed, he had pondered when and where another innocent girl would fall prey to this elusive monster. He had questioned if there was any way possible, he could be out there stopping him.
Before long the drive was over. Axel found himself pulling into his driveway sooner than he had expected. He quickly determined that the lack of traffic on a Sunday afternoon was probably the reason the drive went by so fast, or maybe he was just so tired that he blacked out most of the way home.
Chapter 4
It was late in the afternoon and after he pulled into his driveway, he slowly got out of his car and stretched for a moment. The sound of children laughing in the distance made him stop and turn toward his neighbor’s home.
Heartbeats of a Killer Page 2