Page 21 of Pretty Broken Dolls
Katie knew that look the sheriff gave when he wasn’t going to answer any more questions and it was time to get to work.
“It’s this way,” said McGaven.
It was a relief to Katie to hear her partner’s voice—something pulling her into reality and making her feel grounded.
Katie and McGaven walked past John Blackburn, the forensics manager, who was getting ready to work the scene when they were done. He nodded to them.
They reached the ride and approached the Ferris wheel—where two deputies were erecting a cordon—for a closer look.
“You ready?” Katie said softly to McGaven.
“As I’ll ever be…”
“Turn the lights on like it was when we arrived,” said a loud voice behind them. It was Agent Campbell, hanging back far enough from the crime area but close enough to see it. He was accompanied by rookie Agent Haley.
Katie walked up to the ride, remembering all the times she had ridden it during her childhood. Each car was painted a different color and was attached to a large wheel that would take the cars around in a full revolution. When you were at the top, you could see for miles. It had been one of her favorite rides as a child.
Another deputy went to the controls, turned the main emergency switch clockwise, and then pulled a lever. Instantly, the ride roared to life with bright colorful lights and irritating fairy-tale music, the jolly melody mocking the seriousness of the murder scene. The cars came around in turn, all empty—except for one where a solitary rider remained frozen in her seat.
“Stop!” yelled Katie. She raised her hands to halt the ride.
As it drew to a halt, she approached the car. The blaring music continued, which she found distracting. Reaching into her pockets, she retrieved a pair of exam gloves and slipped them on. As she came closer, she could see that the car held a woman, with long blonde hair, sitting up straight. It was eerie and surreal, and Katie was reminded of the feeling of walking into a carnival funhouse, half expecting something to jump out at her.
Her pulse raced and familiar heavy anxiety invaded her stomach, the feeling changing to a nervous energy.
Closer still, she could see the gaping hole across the woman’s neck. Her head was positioned facing directly forward and her dead gaze fell directly on Katie. It was one of those looks that seemed to follow you around—almost as if the lifeless girl was condemning everyone at the location. It stopped Katie cold. She shook off the unnerving feeling and focused on the rest of the body inside the small car.
“Hey, could someone turn off the music?” said Katie. “And we need some lighting over here.” McGaven handed her a flashlight and she flipped it on, beginning with the examination of the victim’s face.
The exaggerated lipstick, rouge, and eye shadow created the same creepy appearance of the other victims, indicating the same MO. It didn’t relate to the cause of death, but added the visual drama the killer wanted. The poor young woman obviously went through hell and ended up a killer’s prize.
The music finally stopped, leaving a welcome silence.
Katie leaned closer. It was difficult to see at first under the greasy makeup, but her skin was grossly pale, almost translucent. This time the bright blood-red lipstick wasn’t just an exaggeration around the natural lips, but was drawn in a downward curve that resembled a sad clown. The dark purple eye shadow went completely around her eyes, making her look like she had been punched in the face. The blush was a hot pink and smudged down her cheekbones in no special technique—but almost as an afterthought. Her forearms were sliced in a crisscross pattern that indicated defense wounds and several of her fingers appeared broken—disjointed and bluish. The victim had undoubtedly fought for her life.
Who are you?
How did you cross paths with this killer?
“This time the makeup doesn’t make her look like a creepy doll, but as if she was beaten up,” said Katie, trying to maintain her professionalism in the face of the heinous crime in front of her. “The killer possibly wants to draw attention to abuse?” She thought about the reality of the killer escalating.
McGaven studied the victim’s face as well. “A warning of some kind?”
“Of things to come…” she said in a quiet tone.
Three construction lights on tripods went up and immediately illuminated far beyond the crime scene. It looked like daylight until you saw the dark edges just out of view.
Katie felt more conspicuous after the bright lights went on, as if she were on a stage—the killer’s stage. There were many people watching the investigation unfold—specifically, watching Katie examine the victim and the surrounding area. She caught sight of John waiting patiently in the darkness to begin documenting and collecting evidence.
“Who was the first officer at the scene?” she asked McGaven. “And who called it in?”
McGaven left her side to gather information.
Focusing back on the Ferris wheel car, Katie noticed the victim’s hair had been triple knotted and secured to the metal bar.
Unusual technique.
Why?
