Evelyn shot Radhauser an I-told-you-so look, but said nothing about the demands her husband put on their son to perform at baseball.
Was the killer here when Landon came home last night? Was the boy’s presence in the apartment the reason the killer aborted his plan to murder Baker in the bedroom? Had he rendered Baker unconscious? Had he waited until Landon was asleep, then installed the lock on the boy’s door and moved his victim to another location? Something didn’t make sense.
“Did you notice anything different about your bedroom door when you got home last night?”
“Nope.”
“Did you see any sawdust on the floor or doorknob?”
“Nope.”
Radhauser turned to Evelyn. “Is Brad ever abusive with your son?”
For a moment, there was no response. She sat with her spine rigid and her arms flattened against her body.
Radhauser kept his gaze fixed on her and waited for a change of expression, but she remained as stone-faced as George Washington on Mount Rushmore.
“When we were in high school, Brad won a baseball scholarship to the University of Oregon. They were the best days of his life. He wanted Landon to be as good and love the sport as much as he does. Brad demands a lot, can get pretty abusive verbally, but he rarely hits.”
“Does that mean he occasionally hits?”
She nodded.
Radhauser addressed his next question to Landon. “Has your dad ever locked you in your room before?”
“Never,” the boy said. “Sometimes he makes me go to my room and stay there, but he never locks the door. Why isn’t my dad here? Did he go to practice without me?”
Before Radhauser could answer, his cell phone rang. It was Officer Corbin. “We’ve found the body. It was padlocked in one of the family-sized portable toilets at Thomas Flannigan Sports Park. I’ve put in a call to Heron. We’re keeping the park closed to anyone who isn’t official and have cordoned off the area.”
“I’m on my way.”
Radhauser hung up, then tucked his phone back into his pocket and turned to Evelyn. “I’m sorry. I’ll probably need to ask you some more questions, maybe Landon, too, but I have to go now. There’s a good chance this apartment is part of a crime scene and I need to secure it for forensics before I leave. Can either of you provide me with a key?”
“Did my dad do something wrong?” Landon, his eyes wide again, took a key from his pants pocket and handed it to Radhauser. Someone, probably his mother, had marked it with a dot of red nail polish.
“Have they found him?” Evelyn asked, a slight tremble in her voice.
“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll talk to you again as soon as I know anything definite.”
She turned to her son. “Pack up your things, honey. We’re going home. I’ll get Rudy’s dog food and dishes from the kitchen.”
“But what about Dad?”
“The police are looking for him. I’m sure they’ll find him soon.”
Landon’s chin trembled. “Is he in some kind of trouble? Will he have to go to jail again?”
She raised her hands as if she could ward off anything bad happening. “I don’t think so. Now hurry up and pack.”
While Landon stuffed clothes, books, and toiletries into his duffel bag, Evelyn retrieved the dog food and dishes from the kitchen.
Radhauser and Landon followed her outside. She put the utensils, along with Rudy, in the back seat of her car.
Landon tossed his bag, his baseball, and glove into the back of the wagon.
Once her son was buckled into the back seat, Evelyn hurried over to Radhauser. “One more question before you go, Detective Radhauser. Do you think that people get what’s coming to them?”
“I’m sorry, Evelyn. I’m not sure what you mean.” Radhauser closed and locked the front door, then stretched crime scene tape across the opening. He also taped the usual sign on the door warning that trespassers would be prosecuted.
She met his gaze, her own cold and steely. “Let’s just put it this way, Brad wasn’t a very nice man.”
An odd statement coming from a woman who just learned the father of her child was likely dead. Or did she already know? “I have one more question for you, Evelyn. Did you know Marsha Parsons?”
“Not really. She came to my door once, holding a Quran and spouting some rubbish about 9-11 and how it had nothing to do with the Islamic faith.”
Before Radhauser could find the words to respond, Evelyn got into her Volvo and drove away. Her use of the past tense didn’t escape Radhauser. If she hadn’t killed her husband, she certainly adjusted quickly to the fact he was now dead.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Radhauser flashed his badge at the state police officer guarding the park entrance.
Officer Corbin lifted the crime scene tape so Radhauser could enter the parking lot.
He rolled down his window.
Corbin stepped up to the car. He held a clipboard with a sign-in sheet. “It appears our perp severed the hand inside the portable toilet this time.”
“Any sign of a murder weapon?”
“Not yet, sir. But we’re still looking.”
“Is Heron here yet?”
“He’s on his way,” Corbin said.
“How about McBride?”
"She's searching the restrooms, sir."
After he dated and signed the entry sheet, Radhauser continued across the lot. He parked in front of the line of portable toilets on the far side of field #5. He got out of his car, slung his backpack with his camera over his shoulder and hurried toward the cordoned-off area. McBride had left about twenty feet all around the structure.
As was his custom, he photographed the entire scene first, then approached the toilet. A cut padlock dangled from the hasp on the closed door. Radhauser slipped on a pair of shoe protectors, then ducked under the crime scene tape and photographed the door and the cubicle from every angle.
He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and removed the lock, then tucked it into an evidence bag labeled with the time, date, and place it was found.
When he opened the door, the victim was seated on the toilet, naked, except for his green baseball cap, and slumped over to his right side. His head rested on the wall just above the toilet paper holder. He appeared to be in his early thirties, slender, with red hair and a beard that was neatly groomed. Radhauser estimated his height to be over six feet. His mouth and nose were duct-taped with sections of a white handkerchief visible beneath the tape.
Radhauser sniffed the edges of the handkerchief. Heron would confirm, but Radhauser was willing to bet it had been soaked in chloroform.
The victim's left hand was severed at the wrist. His eyes were open and opaque. His ankles were duct-taped together in the same manner Marsha Parsons' had been. To the left of the toilet seat, there was about a three-and-a-half-inch long, quarter-inch thick slash. Had it been made by the murder weapon? The size was about right for a hatchet.
This was the man he'd watched berate that little boy beside the snack bar. The man who'd led the Christians For A Safer America protest that ended with the prayer house fire.
Radhauser now knew that Brad Baker had been reprimanding his son, Landon, behind the snack bar. The incident had occurred three weeks ago, just as Radhauser had taken the call from Murphy. A call that led to the discovery of Marsha Parsons’ severed hand and her dead body.
Was it a coincidence this man’s hand was found in the same location where the berating of his son took place? Radhauser made a note. He wasn’t the kind of detective who believed in coincidences. What did it mean? Had the perp witnessed the same rebuke Radhauser had, or another one, and decided to administer his own punishment?
How about Marsha Parsons? Had the murderer watched her slap Junior near the Lithia Park playground? Daria mentioned Marsha hitting Junior and the fact that his face had bled for a long time. Were the severed hands being returned to the exact place where the abuse took place? Was the perp smudging the area or ju
st the hands with sage incense? And if so, why? It had to mean something. But what?
He made a note to get a copy of Coach Baker’s Little League roster and have McBride interview all the parents of his team members. Had Evelyn Baker had enough of her husband’s expectations for Landon and taken matters into her own hands? But why would she have killed Marsha Parsons? What was the connection between the two victims? The line drawings on the hands and the way the bodies were positioned would indicate the same perpetrator. But why take off Baker’s clothes? Was this victim sexually assaulted?
Evelyn Baker didn’t look strong enough to put her husband in that portable restroom or anywhere else he didn’t want to go. Could she have had an accomplice? Maybe. She did have a connection to both victims. But would she have left her son in a locked room all night? Her fear for his safety seemed real. Or if it wasn’t, Evelyn was a damn good actress.
Radhauser snapped photographs of the victim from every angle he could. Just like in the Parsons’ dining room, a pair of shoe protectors and a hooded plastic raincoat that could fold into a pouch were left at the scene—neatly stacked on the baby changing table. He tucked them into evidence bags. Far less blood marked the scene than was present at the Parsons’ murder. What did that mean? He knew from Heron’s many forensics lectures, that blood flow virtually ceased when a heart stopped beating. Could the victim have already been dead when the hand was amputated? Or did the arteries spasm and cut off the blood flow? But if that were the case, why wasn’t he still alive?
When Radhauser finished with the photographs, he found McBride. “Have you searched all the park trashcans for his clothing?”
“Yes, sir. We found a green Little League shirt, a pair of jeans, underwear, socks and baseball cleats in the garbage can in the men’s restroom. Judging from the size and the fact that the shirt matches his hat, I’m pretty sure they belong to our vic.”
Why hadn’t the perp murdered him in the park restroom? Did he fear someone might walk in on him?
McBride continued, "I bagged everything. Corbin is dropping them off at the lab. A wallet was still in his pants pocket. Money and credit cards in Baker’s name appeared untouched. I mean, if the perp was going to take the victim's cash, why not take all of it? No visible blood on anything we found. The clothes were clean. Looks like the perp undressed the victim before severing his hand."
“Let me know if you find anything more.”
Why did the perp change his routine? Stripping the victim of his clothing and placing him on a toilet was shaming—an extreme form of humiliation. Had the killer stripped him naked before murdering him? Had he intended for Baker to experience some of what he'd dished out so freely, even to his son? One thing was certain. This was even more personal than the Parsons killing.
Was Brad Baker as abusive with the other players on his team as he was with Landon? Could one of the parents have had enough? But, if that were the case, what was the connection to Marsha Parsons? Junior Parsons was too young to play on one of the Little League teams. What was Radhauser missing?
He'd talk to Cooper. Maybe he'd have some insights about his fellow coach. He'd also need to talk with the people Baker worked with in airport security.
When he spotted Heron and two forensics men crossing the parking lot, Radhauser jogged over to meet them.
In the west, a brooding storm was rapidly approaching. The wind came before the rain. It whipped branches, bent the tops of the tall conifers and scattered pine needles and remnants of dried leaves as it swooshed across the baseball fields. The sky west of Thomas Flannigan Sports Park blackened as more storm clouds rolled in. A gash of lightning furrowed the sky, and the downpour began.
If there was any more evidence to be found in the park or its surroundings, the rain was about to destroy it.
Heron pulled an umbrella from the pocket of his raincoat—the ME was always prepared. The wind turned it inside out. He wrestled with it for a few moments, then finally gave up and raised the coat’s hood.
Radhauser gave forensics his list. “Don’t forget to fingerprint the trashcan in the men’s restroom, too. Our perp is careful, so I doubt you’ll find anything useful, but it's worth a try.”
The two men grinned and shot a roll-your-eyes look at each other. But Radhauser knew they were accustomed to his caution, and appreciated the lists he always made for them.
With rain dripping from the brim of his Stetson, Radhauser walked alongside Heron for a few minutes. “Since we never released the detail of the drawing to the media, it looks like I arrested the wrong man.” The weight of this knowledge grew heavier with each passing moment.
Heron put his hand on Radhauser's shoulder. "Mistakes happen, Cowboy. The big question is: what are you going to do about it?"
“As soon as you tell me what you think, I plan to call Costco and see if I can talk them into giving Parsons his job back. Then I’m checking with Services to Children and Families to find out where his kids are.”
Heron put on gloves and opened the door into the portable toilet. He spent about ten minutes bending over and studying the victim from every angle. Heavy droplets of rain hammered the metal roof. “I won’t be positive until I get him on the table, but at this point, I’d guess your victim was dead before he ever saw this toilet.”
Radhauser mentioned he'd noticed the lack of blood, both in the toilet stall and on the raincoat he'd tucked into an evidence bag. “I think the hand was severed here, postmortem."
“I’d say you’re right.” Heron looked over at Radhauser and smiled. “Way to go, Cowboy. You’re getting to be a pretty good forensics man.” Heron measured the slash on the bench to the left side of the body.
"What do you think caused his death?"
Just as Radhauser had done, Heron sniffed at the duct tape covering Baker’s mouth and nose. “Possibly a heart attack. Or maybe too much chloroform. It’s extremely toxic when inhaled in high concentrations over a period of time. Duct tape doesn’t breathe, so your killer wasn’t taking any chances his victim would wake up during transport.”
Radhauser told Heron about the scene he’d observed at Baker’s apartment and how he thought the murderer might have been interrupted by Landon returning home last night.
Heron said nothing, merely nodded.
“Call me when you’ve got Baker cleaned up and ready for viewing. I’ll call his wife to come over and make a positive ID.”
Radhauser started toward his car, then turned back. “When you’re finished, let the security guy know he can have someone get that portable john over to the lab and reopen the park. With any luck, the sun will come out and the seniors can play.” Hope lightened his voice, but when he looked up at the dark sky, the knot between his shoulders hardened. He dreaded his next job.
Sherman Parsons had spent the last three weeks in jail. He probably had no idea where his children were and who was taking care of them. And there was a good chance Costco hadn’t held his job either. All because Radhauser gave in to Murphy’s orders and didn’t trust his gut to insist on waiting before making the arrest.
* * *
Radhauser parked near the Plaza and was on his way to his office when he spotted the cluster of newspaper and television reporters. They gathered on the sidewalk and spilled onto the road in front of the Ashland Police Department.
A small group of Muslim protestors lined the Plaza in front of the station. They chanted softly. “Justice for Ahmed. Justice for Ahmed.” They must have gotten a permit this time because two uniforms watched from strategic positions. He could only imagine what was going on in front of the Grants Pass police station.
The rain had softened to a drizzle as Captain Murphy stood in front of the doorway and gave a statement to the press. He was dressed in the brown, pinstriped suit, with the light blue shirt and brown and blue striped tie he always wore for press conferences. The boss's hairline had receded over the last couple of years. What hair was left had grown thin and was more gray than dark. He now kept the top lon
g so he could comb it over his shiny forehead. Murphy had recently shaved off his mustache, and the rumor around the station was he had a girlfriend. Something they all welcomed as a sign he was finally getting over his wife, Naomi, leaving him.
Radhauser stood on the pavement behind the reporters to listen.
“Early this morning, another severed hand was found, this one at Thomas Flannigan Sports Park. A maintenance man made the discovery. A few hours later, one of my detectives discovered the body in one of the portable restrooms set up at the park.” He slipped his right hand in his pocket, like those attorneys you see on television about to give a closing argument.
Radhauser smiled to himself. Murphy was trying to show how confident he was that the case would be solved quickly.
"My detectives have confirmed that the victim, whose identity will not be released until his family is notified and positive identification is made, was male and about thirty years old. Dr. Steven Heron, Medical Examiner for Jackson and Josephine Counties, will conduct an autopsy to determine the exact cause of death. At this point, he believes it to be a homicide. The autopsy is expected to begin as early as this afternoon.”
An eager reporter in the front row raised his hand.
Murphy ignored him. “It has been twenty-two days since the body of Marsha Parsons was found in her home on Vista. Dozens of family members, friends, and colleagues of the victims are being interviewed in connection with the case. We are not prepared at this time to make a statement regarding any correlation between the two deaths. We are stunned by both murders. And our highest priority is to protect the residents and visitors in Ashland.
“The best thing the public can do is to cooperate in any way possible with our investigation so that we can apprehend this violent individual and make Ashland safe again. It now appears the suspect we have in custody for the Parsons murder is innocent. I take full responsibility for his wrongful arrest and am making every effort to ensure a speedy release. Thank you.”
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