Page 18 of Good Girls Don't Cry

Twenty

The Mine

Isabella so wanted to get away. All she could think about was her mom and dad. Her little sister would be missing her so much and she’d promised to help her buy a dress for her birthday. She needed to go home. There was nothing else left for her. Her boyfriend had died in the limo along with the others. The murderer was playing a cruel game with them. It didn’t take a genius to understand him, really. He’d threaten her and hurt her and then he’d let her go. If he hadn’t planned to set them all free, he wouldn’t have covered his face. Olivia was correct, but if the others had been set free, why were they all still locked in the cells? Unless he blindfolded them and they’d have no idea where he’d taken them. She moved to the front of the cell and stared at him. His smug posture made her want to spew. How could she give herself willingly to this animal? Her little sister’s face loomed across her mind again and she cleared her throat. “I’ll do whatever you say as long as you promise to set me free.”

“I promise, you’ll be sitting outside the old library tonight as soon as it gets dark.” He moved closer to the cell, his breath ragged. “The old library, the one that blew up a few years ago out near the Triple Z Bar. You’d be able to walk to the roadhouse and call your mom. The deal is, if anyone asks, you say you don’t remember anything.”

Confused, Isabella stared at him. “How would you know if I keep my word?”

“I know where you live. I was in the limo when we dropped by to collect you.” He moved so close she could smell his rank sweat. “Say one word and I’ll break into your house and slit your parents’ and little sister’s throats.” His chuckle was low and menacing. “Yeah, I know about your little sister. I know everything about all of you.” He moved closer. “Do we have a deal?”

Terrified and knees trembling, Isabella nodded and waited for him to open the door. She cringed when he chained her to the wall, took out a knife, and sliced off her clothes. Unable to stop shaking, she closed her eyes tight. She couldn’t look at him. He’d become violent when the others screamed, as if it excited him. Her teeth chattered and goosebumps rose on her flesh. She could survive this—she must. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she turned her head away. I’ll never scream.

Twenty-One

Wolfe pulled on gloves and covered his face with a mask. He stepped into the examination room. Webber had prepared the victim for the autopsy and everything he needed had been laid out on silver trays. Cold fluorescent lights cast an unearthly glow on the body lying on the stainless steel table. It should be clinical and yet it never was for him and never had been. Even though the air around him was heavy with the familiar scent of antiseptic that never completely covered the smell of death, he’d learned to deal with it—and did without a problem. He’d never become accustomed to the sight of a young girl whose life had been taken so viciously. He needed to get the evidence to bring her killer to trial and spent the next half an hour collecting samples from under her nails, feet, and various places on her skin. He combed her hair. Even dust particles could be useful in determining where she’d been since she left the limo. Any trace evidence he could find could be valuable.

The preliminary examination of a victim prior to the full autopsy was often long and tedious but it revealed so many important facts in a murder case. He pulled down the microphone to make notes as he went along. He’d noticed bruising on her wrists and on the inside of her thighs. He took photographs of each of the bruises from different angles and then cursed under his breath when he discovered she had been sexually assaulted. He collected swabs and went over her body with a magnifying glass to check for any pubic hairs left by her attacker. He found nothing.

He turned the body over to examine the wound in her back. On arrival he’d used epifluorescence microscopy to take images of the sharp forced trauma to determine what arrow caused the injury. He’d leave the full autopsy until he had the results needed for comparison. The information about the type of arrows used in the previous murders had never been released, so only the killer would know which brand of arrow he used. From the information that Rowley, a keen crossbow hunter, had given him, most bow hunters had a particular favorite and he could use this information to identify the killer. He’d sent Webber to purchase the arrows that Rowley suggested, along with a side of pork to test them. Every weapon used usually left a signature behind and it was no different with arrowheads. Each wound would be microscopically examined in the same way and compared to determine the exact arrowhead used to kill the girl.

From the moment he’d arrived on scene, the murder had brought back memories of a previous case. Jenna had recognized the MO as well. He went to his files and pulled the images from the previous case and went back to look at the body with interest. He glanced back and forth from victim to screen. There was no doubt in his mind that in front of him was a copycat kill of James Earl Stafford, a notorious serial killer. The case they dealt with previously had also been a copycat killer of this famous murderer. Jenna and Jo Wells had gone to the prison to interview him but he hadn’t been very forthcoming, but they had caught the killer. Although it was impossible for this murder to be attributed to him. The copper pennies placed on the eyelids were Stafford’s signature, as was this method of murder. He compared the wounds made from the arrows, placing them side by side on the big screen and then superimposing one over the other. As he suspected, none of the previous cases involving arrows matched this one. This copycat had no knowledge of the arrows used, which made this case unique. He sighed and covered the body with a sheet. He had little doubt that the victim’s name was Samantha Haimes. Her face hadn’t been damaged and he would forgo a DNA match if one of her parents were willing to identify the body.

Trying to keep busy and convince himself that Emily would be in Raven’s safe hands, Wolfe went back to his files. Having no remains to examine for the first victim, he compared the writing on the torso of the dismembered remains with the same message he found on Samantha. They appeared to be identical from the photographs Emily had uploaded onto the server—the writing being the only evidence that connected the two murders—but he had no doubt the way the T on the “not mine” message was angled down, making it resemble an X, was a match. The first murder was another copycat and resembled the same MO of a serial killer who decorated trees with frozen body parts during winter. Apart from the message, there was nothing else to link these two murders. In both previous cases Jenna had solved the crimes. It should be case closed. He removed his gloves and mask, tossed them into the garbage, and then headed to his office. Jenna had asked Jo Wells, the FBI behavioral analyst, for assistance, and knowing Jo, she would have the answers they needed. He made the call and she picked up right away. “Hey, Jo. How are things in Snakeskin Gully?”

“It’s quiet here without Carter.” Jo sighed. “I’m guessing you’re calling about the recent cases in Black Rock Falls?”

Wolfe put his phone on speaker, went to the coffee machine, and pushed in a pod. “I am. I’ve just finished my preliminary examination of the second female victim. It’s tragic. Raped and then shot in the back by what I believe is an arrow. It’s a copycat for sure and so is the first victim, from what I can tell without a body, but Em did a fine job making notes and taking images. She took swabs as well. When we can rescue her from the mountain, I’ll know more, but the messages carved into the torsos are identical.”

“Since Jenna contacted me for my opinion, I’ve looked over the old case files and I agree with you this is definitely copycat murders. The message ‘not mine’ would make me believe that he intends to leave a body with ‘mine’ written on it.”

Wolfe stirred sugar and cream into his coffee and frowned. “How so?”

“There is only one explanation, Shane, and that is one of the victims who was attributed to another killer over the last few years or so was his.” She blew out a long breath. “This is the thing with serial killers: they like to own their kills. In fact, they don’t suffer remorse. They’re proud of them. If they’re attributed to somebody else, I’d say they’d want to put things right. I would be looking at any violent criminals who have been let out of prison recently. They might not have been imprisoned for attacking someone, but for some reason, they were unable to put this misconception right. He may have done this type of murder previously in a different state, for instance. If he’s been away for a long time, it could have happened way before Jenna took office. Maybe he’d just got out of prison, committed his first murder, and then been arrested for something else. Maybe seeing his murder triggered the guy who you arrested. In all likelihood, he committed the others. It’s a very unusual situation, but I don’t believe his focus is on Jenna. I figure it’s on you.”

A cold shiver went down Wolfe’s spine. “Me? Why on earth would he blame me?” He thought for a beat and then ran a hand down his face. “I do recall there was very little evidence in both the cases, but I meticulously check every detail before I make a decision. For instance, the second killer couldn’t possibly know what arrowheads the first killer used. I’ve proved the arrowheads are different.”

“It seems he’s sticking close to the original murders.” The chair squeaked as she slid it across the floor in a familiar sound. “I figure he is taking his information from the newspapers or internet. But I can tell you one thing: he’s trying to prove a point. He won’t leave any evidence for you to follow. You didn’t catch him the first time, so he’s well aware of forensics. The problem is, how many girls will he murder before he informs you which one is his?”

Wolfe leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. “I have faith in our team. Every killer makes a mistake sooner or later and it won’t slip by Jenna or Kane.”

Twenty-Two

As they made their way back to town, Jenna made all the calls necessary to get the chopper into the air as soon as possible. She listened with interest as Wolfe brought her up to date with what Jo had told him about the killer. It made a lot of sense. “These monsters have been trying to outwit us for years and we still get them in the end. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You don’t make mistakes. We’ve all discussed the previous cases and none of the killers who we’ve sent to prison have ever mentioned that one of the kills wasn’t theirs. As their egos are so big, you would imagine they would kick up a stink if we tried to convict them of a murder they didn’t commit.” She pushed hair from her face. “Once we have Raven and Emily safe, I’ll go back through my files and check on any recent releases from prisons throughout Montana. I’ll also see if I can discover any similar cases to ones that we’ve been involved in in Black Rock Falls.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Rio is working on a list of possible suspects, and we’ll talk again to the parents of the kids in the limo. Someone must have seen a second person in the vehicle or noticed something wasn’t right with the driver.

“Don’t worry too much. I’ll get to the bottom of it.” Wolfe’s chair creaked as he moved. “Carter is doing the final preflight check. We’ll be ready to head out the moment Kane arrives.”

“We’re five minutes away.” Kane accelerated along Stanton. “You should be able to hear us by now.”

“Copy that.” Wolfe disconnected.

Wanting time to move faster and see the chopper in the air, Jenna flipped a glance at Kane. “I’ll call Rowley to give me a ride to Glacial Heights Ski Resort. I should be able to watch the rescue mission from there.”

“I’ve no reason to believe the shooter has left the area, Jenna.” Kane frowned at her. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Determined to be there for Emily, Jenna waved away his concern. “We’ve no reason to believe the shooter is involved with the murder. They could easily have been stray shots from the other side of the resort.”

“With a scope rifle?” Kane frowned. “No way, and hunting season is over until fall. I doubt the killer is hanging around shooting at people, but this means we might have another crazy in the mountains.” He drove around back of the morgue and stared at her. “Do you really want to take the risk?”

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