Page 33 of Pretty Broken Dolls
“Good boy,” she praised. Turning to John, “He led us up to where the ring was located. Back near the food areas, he seemed to get confused, but he was getting cross scents. It means that the scent went back and forth.”
“That was amazing.”
“It does mean something important. It further proves that the killer and the victim walked in here and she was killed on the ride. Otherwise we would see blood in other places and we haven’t, with the exception of the bloody footprints.” She unhooked Cisco and he ran around in glee.
Katie and John walked back to the Jeep where Katie drew Cisco’s track on the map. It became clear what the victim’s last minutes were.
“Wow,” said John. “That tells the story.”
“Part of it, anyway. Not who the killer is…” Katie had a thought. “Do you have another fifteen minutes?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Let’s take the killer’s route and I want to have a look at the area under construction. Some of the rides are being updated as well.” Looking for Cisco, she saw him sniffing areas around the chain-link fencing. “C’mon, Cisco.” The dog looked up and happily followed them.
Katie and John took the walk from the eastern entrance, which led to the Ferris wheel. Then they followed the route from the ride around the eateries and to the livestock area where the ring was found.
“Seems plausible,” she said. “But how did the killer get in? Did they have a key or did someone leave it open?”
“Let’s take a look,” he said.
As they walked back to the eastern gate, Katie noticed that the fencing and surrounding areas were old and worn. It was next to the area under construction.
“Wait,” she said. Walking to the construction zone, she found heavy-duty white-and-blue tarps along with plywood covering the areas where the games would have been.
Cisco seemed to be extremely interested in the smells.
Katie entered underneath a tarp. The smell was oppressive, with a noxious scent of plastic and paint. The tarps helped to block out the light and created a darkened, creepy atmosphere. A slight pressure affected her ears like she was inside a soundproof room.
“John,” she said.
He didn’t respond.
“John!” she yelled.
No response.
She walked back to the entrance and squeezed between the tarp. “John?”
“Yeah,” he said and walked up.
“You didn’t hear me?”
“No.”
“Check this out.” She went back inside the area and was once again hit with the stagnant air.
“Stinks in here,” he said.
Cisco brushed up against her leg.
Katie saw two wooden doors facing toward the parking lots outside. She retrieved her cell phone and popped on the flashlight mode. Aiming the light around the doors, she noticed that one of them had scrape marks.
“What do you make of these?” she said.
“I’ve seen this a million times. This is what is left behind when someone pries open a door or window. I’ve compared my fair share of tools to impression evidence from burglaries. More than I can count.”
Katie turned her attention to the area and searched for something that would make that type of mark. She noticed a few tools lying on the ground in the corner—a long screwdriver and a piece of copper.
