Part 5 (1/2)
Alves had wanted to spare his wife for as long as he could, but the reporters had pounced on the obvious connections. One after another they'd called out the name of the killer linked to six unsolved murders.
”I need you at home. Iris is up in her room. She didn't eat any dinner. She's got her brother all nerved up. Angel, she found that young couple right down the street.”
”Marcy, if it helps any, he didn't murder those kids in our neighborhood. Franklin Park was a secondary crime scene, a dump site.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how bad they sounded. Not comforting to think of a killer using your local park to stage a murder scene.
”What the h.e.l.l does that matter.” Her voice was strained with anger. ”This maniac was in our our neighborhood, where our kids play, where we sleep at night.” neighborhood, where our kids play, where we sleep at night.”
”That's why I need to be here.” Alves tried to talk calmly, but she had a point. His first job was to protect his family. ”The only way I can hope to solve this case is to learn as much as I can from Mooney's old files. Try not to worry. I asked the captain at E-13 to make extra rounds on our street.”
”We'll be fine.”
”Marcy...” He heard the phone click. Alves placed the receiver down. He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing. She was right. He shouldn't be here. He should be home with his family, making his wife and kids feel safe enough to sleep.
He picked up a stack of photos-at the top was one of Courtney at the crime scene. Her face wasn't contorted in terror. He studied the photo, from the gentle wave of her long hair caught back in its braid to the firm line of her chin. He'd seen the look before, on the faces of other victims. A little smile almost, a kind of peace.
CHAPTER 20.
Alves was starved. Mooney finally got back from BC, and he brought pizza. Alves cleared a s.p.a.ce on the conference table and found some paper plates and napkins in a file drawer. pizza. Alves cleared a s.p.a.ce on the conference table and found some paper plates and napkins in a file drawer.
”No football practice tonight?” Mooney said.
”Cancelled for the rest of the week. One of the other parents is taking over for me when they start up again.”
”How are the kids? How's Iris?”
”Not playing anymore. Iris won't go near the field. And Angel has never seen his sister scared before. Let's eat,” he said. He didn't want to think about Marcy getting the kids ready for bed. How he wasn't there to tuck the twins in. He opened the pizza box and took a long, stringy slice. He held the box open while Mooney took one. ”Learn anything about Courtney Steadman and Josh Kipping today?”
”Both decent students. Good kids. Sat.u.r.day night they were pretty drunk. We know that from the autopsy. They were lightweights who got caught up in the tailgating atmosphere. At some point they slipped away.”
”Probably to go fool around,” Alves said.
”They didn't seem the type. They were pretty caught up in the whole Jesuit education thing. Liked to hang out and talk.” Mooney's face flushed with anger. ”Two goofy kids go out and have a few drinks, and this b.a.s.t.a.r.d takes their lives.”
”Did you get a chance to reach out to the parents of the other victims?”
”I did that before I went to BC. I had to let them know what happened and prepare them for the media blitz that is sure to follow. I've kept in touch with them over the years. Six families.”
”Eight now,” Alves said.
Mooney paused. ”I call them every summer on the anniversaries, just to let them know I haven't forgotten. I told them that we're working the cases together, that you'll look at everything with fresh eyes.”
”Where do you think Josh and Courtney went from the game?” Alves asked.
”Either the reservoir or the park at Cleveland Circle.”
”Not one of their rooms?”
”Their friends said that's where they liked to go to be alone. But that night there was no being alone anywhere. On top of the rowdy BC diehards, there were busloads of Seminole fans up from Tallaha.s.see.”
”Sounds like you were there,” Alves said.
”I was. Working a detail. That's what makes it so hard to believe he pulled it off without being seen. He's getting bolder. And better.”
”Did you ever have any real suspects?”
”We had a few guys with bad records but no evidence connecting them. The first vics, Adams and Flowers, were killed where they were found. The others were staged at secondary crime scenes. Where are the photos from the first scene?”
Alves shuffled through the stack and found the manila envelope with the photos and handed it to Mooney. Alves had spent the last couple hours organizing the boxes and looking through the files. ”Reports indicate it was a nice night. Looks like Kelly Adams and Eric Flowers snuck out of their prom at the Sheraton Prudential for a walk that led them to the Fens. Next morning a runner found them dead on the gra.s.s between a park bench and some shrubs.”
Mooney flipped through the photos. ”My first time working a serial murder. I'd seen plenty of domestics, bar fights turned fatal, even mob hits. But nothing like this. The victims were dressed up in their prom clothes. The only victims wearing the clothes they were killed in. After that, the victims were dressed up by the killer. Flowers's s.h.i.+rt had a stel-late pattern, a four-pointed star-shaped tear.” Mooney made a rough diamond with his index fingers and thumbs. ”There was also tattooing, bruising in the shape of an elongated gun barrel opening.”
”A contact shot like the others.”
”Eric Flowers was shot three times in the chest, one entry wound. He may have struggled a little, but he bled out quickly.”
”Belsky found four slugs with one entry wound and similar tattooing on Kipping. I'll have Belsky compare the tattooing on all the male autopsy photos. I took the slugs to Stone. They're a match. That leaves us with the females,” Alves said, holding up a photo of Kelly Adams, lying in the gra.s.s next to her prom date.
”She was strangled,” Mooney said, ”probably with bare hands, just like the other females. The thing is she had a real tattoo of the Tai-ji. After that, he started stamping the symbol on the other girls with a craft store stamper.” Mooney tossed a balled-up napkin on the table. ”This whole Tai-ji thing is bulls.h.i.+t. He's using that because he saw Kelly's tattoo and thought it would throw us off. I bet he doesn't even know what it means. He certainly doesn't know what it should look like. The last two times he's stamped it upside down.”
”Does it matter if the white is on the right or the left?”
”The white side representing heat should be rising and the dark side, the cool side, should be settling. Another thing. Kelly and Eric were dragged from the park bench behind some bushes.” Mooney handed a picture to Alves. ”The killer didn't use any wires, and the staging was simple, but it looked like they were lying next to each other, having a picnic or something. Somewhere along the way he shoves the Chinese fortune in her mouth.”
”The Herald Herald always comes up with a great headline,” Alves read from a cut-and-pasted headline, ” always comes up with a great headline,” Alves read from a cut-and-pasted headline, ”PROM NIGHT, b.l.o.o.d.y PROM NIGHT!”
”The media were ridiculous. The city was. .h.i.tting an all-time low in the homicide rate. Good for the average Joe, bad for newspapers. These first murders gave the press a jump start. They made the killer out to be the next Boston Strangler. I think he killed impulsively the first time. Pure luck he didn't get caught.” Mooney pointed to a gruesome photo of the young lovers, lying in the gra.s.s. ”Then the newspapers make him out to be this super villain. My theory? They gave gave him the idea to keep using the same MO. It turned into a game. He takes more victims, only now there's more work involved. He has to eat enough Chinese takeout to find a good fortune, keep a supply of clothes for his victims, buy some cheap jewelry, stamp the tattoo, transport them to some secluded spot and pose them. Now he's enjoying it. He's getting more sophisticated, using the wire.” him the idea to keep using the same MO. It turned into a game. He takes more victims, only now there's more work involved. He has to eat enough Chinese takeout to find a good fortune, keep a supply of clothes for his victims, buy some cheap jewelry, stamp the tattoo, transport them to some secluded spot and pose them. Now he's enjoying it. He's getting more sophisticated, using the wire.”
Alves remembered the frenzy that summer. At the time he was working last halfs, the midnight s.h.i.+ft. Newly married. Between work and court, he barely had time to read the paper. But he remembered the intense media coverage. ”So you think the media made this guy a serial killer?”
”They encouraged him. So many details of the first case are coincidental. The victims happen to be dressed up. They're killed and then staged in the vicinity. I don't know why he uses the fortunes. But the Tai-ji stamped on the back of Kelly's neck? He didn't bring that to the party.” Mooney dropped the photo in front of Alves. ”He gets a boatload of attention for his crime. Next thing you know he starts killing and recreating that first scene. Where are the pictures from the second crime scene?”
Alves had separated the photos into stacks. He handed Mooney a tightly packed envelope.
Mooney flipped through the photos till he found one that showed a wide angle of the crime scene. ”Daria Markis and David Riley. He left them on the Riverway, not far from the banks of the Muddy River. The scene was hastily put together. Not enough wire. David Riley's body slumped on its side. We were lucky we found him in the overgrown reeds. Daria was wired to a tree, but slouched forward. The killer was nervous someone would see him. He's gotten better at staging. He's gained confidence that he won't get caught.”
Alves nodded. ”Looking at these pictures, I was starting to think we weren't dealing with the same guy. Last night's scene looked like it was orchestrated by a pro. Something you'd see at a wax museum. Nothing like Kelly and Eric.”
Another thing Mooney had taught him. Think of the case in terms of the victims, remember their first names, humanize them. All of it helped him focus.