Eleven (16 page)

The one CSI sat on the bed with a hand cradling his jaw. His gaze on me. “Just keep him away from me.”

Jack’s eyes filtered to me for an instant, a barely measurable amount of time. “How close were the two of you to the vic?”

“You mean the man you shot.” The younger CSI, who had been flattened to the floor when I had left, was now leaned against the far wall.

Jack didn’t say a thing.

“Earl and I were close.”

“I asked how close.”

Zachery brushed between Jack and me to leave the room. He mumbled something to Jack on the way by about how he was going to look at the computer with Paige and see what else he could find.

“We go back to sc-school years.” The CSI’s arms crossed.

With the motion, my mind went to the evidence collected in the case. These men were part of the forensic investigative team. If they knew of Earl’s involvement or were even involved themselves, everything would be compromised. “Did you know he was working with Lance Bingham?”

All three pairs of eyes, including Jack’s, shot to me. Again, the younger CSI spoke, “Hell no.”

“Are you saying that to protect a memory, or yourself?”

“Is this guy for real?” He shared scoffed laughter with the other CSI.

“Answer his question,” Jack said, cutting their mockery short.

“Kev,” he nodded to the CSI sitting on the bed, rubbing his jaw. “Earl and I, none of us was involved in no murder.”

 “You didn’t know that your best friend was working with a serial killer?”

Kevin made eye contact with the younger CSI. “Charlie, maybe we should say something—”

“Damn right you should say something!” Jack took a few steps forward. The anger radiating off him now paled by comparison to the wrath he projected when he verbally lashed me.

Charlie pushed off the wall with his leg. “It’s not like we know something. He’s just been different for a while. But I mean that’s to be expected.”

“To be expected,” I said, hoping he’d continue.

“Well, his younger brother went missing a while ago now.”

“So you think he suspected Bingham of something and got close to him?”

Charlie placed a hand on his hip, flexed his hand, and then tapped his fingers there. “Six years ago Robert, that was Earl’s brother left for work but didn’t return home. When police followed up, his workplace hadn’t even seen him that day.”

“Somewhere between home and work, he went missing.”

Charlie glared at me. “Very good.” He continued. “We all did what we could for Earl, but it was hard on him. Robert was the only family Earl had left. We all have families,” he gestured a hand between him and Kevin. “Kevin has a wife and kids. I have older parents I care for. Things are busy in life even here in the country.” He looked between Jack and me as if ready to defend his statement. “Lance was there for him when the rest of us couldn’t be. He didn’t have family responsibilities.”

I recalled the body Jones had shown us in the cellar. It was a male and dated back about six years. Maybe that had been Robert Royster.

“Oh good God.” Kevin’s face paled. His eyes weren’t focused on anything for seconds as we waited for an elaboration. “Lance told Earl that wherever Robert was, he was at peace.”

There was a rap of knuckles on the doorframe. Zachery stood there. “You’re going to want to come see this.”

Paige looked up from behind the desk in the office. “Wait until you see all this for yourselves.”

Earl’s office was organized. No stray paper littered the surface of the desk, filing cabinet or bookshelf. I traced a hand over his collection of fiction and recognized some of the authors. Earl Royster had a fascination with science fiction. I noticed the void where the book on the coinherence symbol must have been.

“These were found in a folder called miscellaneous,” Paige said as she moved over to make room for Jack and me behind the desk. Zachery was already there.

The images that filled the screen were familiar, but only in a vague manner. There was a picture of a circular grave, but it had stakes in the ground. The last one left empty didn’t have them. “These were taken before a victim was placed inside?”

Paige faced me. “Yep.”

We had held eye contact for a second before I turned to Jack. “He was in on this.”

“Hmm.”

I took it mostly based on facial expression, the downward curvature of his mouth, that my response didn’t impress him.

“We need a little more than this, Pending,” Zachery said. “Maybe there’s another explanation. What if he thought Bingham had his brother? He snoops into the guy’s house when he’s helping a farmer and finds this.”

“Still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t report it.”

“Earl was a submissive person. Bingham would have easily overpowered him mentally.”

“So, you’re suggesting that he found out Bingham killed his brother and was okay with it?” Paige straightened out, crossed her arms. “I’m not buying it.”

I got involved in the debate. “The guy isn’t exactly an innocent. He shot at us. He risked not only my life but his neighbor’s. Heck, he pulled a gun on you—,” I gestured to Zachery, “—or have you forgotten already?”

“Cool it. All of you. None of this is getting us anywhere.” Jack’s words reprimanded us.

“No, there’s more than just this. He was watching Bingham.” Paige glared at Zachery and based on the intensity, I couldn’t help but think better him than me. She moved back, placing a hand on the mouse again, and clicked on another photo. “Bingham outside his house. See the fields, I recognize those.”

“You recognize fields out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Enough you two,” Jack said. “Focus on the case.”

“The corner of the building matches the board exterior of Bingham’s house, as well,” Paige defended herself. “But there areall sorts of these pictures.” She kept clicking, and images showcased on the screen. “In all of these, Bingham didn’t have any idea the photos were taken. But, this one…” she straightened up. “In this one, well it’s obvious he did.”

The two men were in front of Lakeview Community Church. Bingham was taller than Earl by about four inches and had his arm around Earl’s shoulders. Both men were smiling.

“They look like the best of friends. How can you be friends with the man you suspect of killing your brother?” I said. “Maybe he just got too close. Bingham started having control over him?”

Zachery headed for the door. “I’ll be back in just a second.”

“I know that look anywhere. He believes he’s on to something,” Paige said.

The image remained on the screen—the smiling faces, the presence of the church. The portrayal cast a drastic contrast between life and death, righteousness and evil.

“Okay, so I’m Earl. I found the burial sites years ago yet I don’t say anything to the Sheriff. Why?” I attempted to run through the scenario aloud.

“Because he became involved.” Paige’s eyes lit, and she tapped her head as if to say,
duh.

I cocked my head to the side. “It just seems like we’re making a lot of excuses for him. Bingham held power over him; Bingham made him do it even if that meant his silence. I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t have reported it. We’re talking about his brother.”

“Maybe he stayed close because he wanted to take care of Bingham in his own way,” Paige offered.

“Or he knew there was something a lot larger going on.”

Both of us looked at Jack, who had said that.

I picked up on his thought, “What if all his snooping brought him to that discovery? I mean he obviously found an empty grave.” I gestured to the monitor referencing back to the photo we had seen there. “But he could have been so close with Bingham by that point, he never even realized he was being brainwashed to keep quiet.”

“Brainwashed? Huh, Kid, that’s the best you got?”

“You know what I mean. Bingham exerted an influence.”

“Okay, how and why?”

“Narcissists only accompany themselves with those who empower them, and make them feel a sense of elevated importance.” They both kept watching me. “Bingham benefited from the relationship. Earl allowed himself to be manipulated until he could get a handle on what he discovered.”

“So before he knew it, he was Bingham’s apprentice,” Jack said.

“Let’s just rephrase the entire thing. Bingham has named himself The Redeemer; let’s officially call his
apprentice
, The Follower.”

“You distanced your phrase from Royster, why?”

My eyes went back to the screen. “Because I don’t think he is The Follower.”

“He shot at you, at all of us. Why then?”

It didn’t take any time for me to calculate the answer. I was staring at it. “He knew we were going to find all this and his life would be over anyway. It’s pretty clear to conclude he knew what was going on, but was he actually involved? We’ll have to prove that.”

“Hmm.”

Something told me Jack was impressed this time.

Zachery sprung around the doorframe holding a picture frame. “I thought I remembered seeing Royster smiling in another photograph. Paige, bring up that one of him with Bingham again.”

“It’s still up.”

Zachery shoved in between Jack and me and held the photo out toward the screen. “Just as I thought. Compare the two pictures, focus on Royster’s smile.”

The framed photo was of Royster with a man who had similar features. This must have been his brother. Both men held up a beer to the cameraman who took it at the perfect moment. Each of them had sharp eyes and bright smiles. By comparison to the one with Bingham, it was simple to see the difference.

“Royster’s smile is forced in the photo with Bingham.”

“So, the question still is, why hang around with a man you suspect of killing your brother?” Paige asked.

“Well, two reasons that I see. One, to gather enough evidence to bring him in—”

“He had that. Remember the picture of the grave,” I interrupted Zachery.

“Bingham convinced him it wasn’t anything, or threatened him in some way. It doesn’t mean he saw any victims. Maybe Bingham didn’t know that Royster was onto his little operation. Or possibly Royster was planning on taking revenge himself but was waiting for the perfect time.”

CHAPTER 17

Paige pushed Zachery closer to me, pretty much checking him with her shoulder.

“No reason to be so pushy.”

She ignored his protest and moved the mouse on the screen. “There is another folder that I haven’t been able to get into—” Her words hung out there as she found the folder, hovered the mouse over it, and then double-clicked. A window came up prompting for a password. She addressed me, “I can’t break it.”

“Why are you looking at him,” Zachery intercepted.

“You seriously have to ask. You might be a genius when it comes to what you’ve read in a textbook from twenty years ago, but you don’t know your way around a computer.”

I shoved between the two of them. “Can I?”

Paige let go of the mouse.

I entered into the source code for the folder and found the password. Seconds later, the folder was open.

“Impressive, Pending.” Zachery smiled at Jack. “He knows what he’s doing. Sometimes. How did you know how to do that any—” Zachery’s words died on his lips as the first picture filled the screen.

A young girl we all knew as Sally Windermere was tied to the stretcher in the
kill room
. Her eyes were blindfolded, but the shape of her jaw and the upward turn of her nose made her identity unmistakable.

“He was there,” Paige said.

Zachery leaned in toward the monitor. “Forget that he was there, he was the one who killed her. Bingham was in prison.”

I stepped to the side, and Paige brought up the next photo. It was a picture of the ground and the tips of two boots. It was a lower resolution when compared to the other photos. “Taken with a cell phone? And why a picture of his feet?”

I glanced over at Jack to get an idea where he was in all of this. He had retracted into the far corner of the room. When I glanced at him, he directed my attention back to the screen with a pointed finger. At first, I didn’t know what he was trying to communicate, but as I studied the picture, it became apparent. The toe showing on the left was a right foot, the one on the right, a left.

“So Bingham has two followers who kill for him?” The realization caused internal panic. If Bingham wanted me dead, he still had someone else to carry out that wish.

“Someone else was definitely there with him, and he took a picture of the feet to prove it. So was Royster involved with the torture and killing, or did he just get in too deep? Maybe it was keep Bingham’s secrets or become victim number eleven,” Paige offered.

 “At this point hard to know,” Zachery said. “It is possible that Bingham had that much power and influence. And as for two followers it wouldn’t be the first time a serial killer had that much control. Look at Robin Gecht. He led three other men in the brutal murders of at least seventeen women.” He glanced at Paige. “I won’t go into the details of the mutilation. But they were known as the Ripper Crew or Chicago Rippers.”

“I know it has to be bad when you don’t go into details.” Paige’s eyes made the daring request for Zachery to continue.

“Not getting into it. But the thing is when it comes to killings involving more than one accomplice they feed off each other. What one might not do if they were alone, they’re not afraid to do with an audience. Both the participant in the murder and the spectator experience power and excitement.”

“I know we keep mentioning that maybe Royster kept quiet because Bingham threatened him, myself included, but if Bingham wanted to he would have killed him,” Paige said.

“Not necessarily.”

“I know that serial killers normally have a certain type of person they go after. And maybe Royster didn’t fit that bill. But, still a narcissist isn’t going to have their plans ruined or exposed by anyone. They would do anything to stop that from happening.”

Jack pulled out a cigarette and perched it in his lips. “Also at the time Bingham’s next victim was slated to be a woman. Based on this pattern, he wouldn’t deviate from that.”

Zachery straightened out. “Bingham demonstrates compulsive traits, such as his fascination with the number eleven. Once something is set in his mind, that is the path he follows. One extremely organized and controlled killer.”

“We know that Bingham assaulted his neighbor, but who ratted him out for killing cows?” Jack took the cigarette out of his mouth, pointed it toward Paige and Zachery, before placing it back.

“We’ll get right on that.” Paige left the room with Zachery.

Jack and I worked our way through about fifty photographs. Some of them were out of focus, blurred as if taken while moving. Others were too dark to distinguish anything. But one thing was certain, there were no more of any victims. Most of them focused on Bingham or his property.

Jack stepped forward, closer to the monitor. The cigarette from at least thirty minutes ago remained pressed in his lips. I imagined the tip must have been soggy. “Stop there. Enlarge it.”

It was a photo of Bingham dumping the contents of a white plastic bag into a pig’s feeding trough. “That doesn’t look like it came from any feed store.” My stating the obvious earned me a glance from Jack and a
Hmm
. Somehow his exhalation reinforced the dark reality. “He fed the intestines of his victims to livestock.”

Jack didn’t say anything. His eyes were fixed on the screen.

“He’d grind them up.” Saying this made my stomach tighten and toss further. “And put them in the freezer until he could feed them to the animals. The freezer would keep the smell down.”

Paige walked into the office, Zachery trailing behind her. She spoke, “Royster reported the dead cows. The call came in on a tip line—”

“For murdered livestock.” Jack’s sarcasm got a smile from Zachery.

“For crimes in the county. Anyway, the call came in as anonymous, but the operator knew Royster. The rumor got around he was the one who squealed on Bingham.”

“And no doubt that got back to Bingham. It couldn’t have made him too happy, but it would have reestablished control,” Zachery offered.

“Reestablished control?” I asked.

Zachery gave me a look that said,
I don’t have time to elaborate on everything I say
. “Yeah, his power over Royster slipped, but this gave Bingham an opportunity to remind him of what he was capable of. A realigning if you would.”

“We need to find out a connection between the victims, establish a time line.” Jack looked at Paige. “We need you to get access to the records from that crime stoppers line. Maybe dead cattle weren’t the only thing Royster called in about. But before you go, take a look at this. Either of you recognize it from speaking with the neighbors?” Jack directed their attention to the monitor.

Both Paige and Zachery shook their heads.

A knock on the doorframe had us all looking up. It was the younger CSI, Charlie. His face was pale. “You guys are going to want to see this.”

He led us downstairs to the laundry room. Dirty clothes were strewn on the floor, and clean ones overfilled a basket on the dryer. The dryer was pulled out and the CSI, named Kevin, the one I had hit in the jaw, was hunched behind it.

“You told us to search the entire place. Still never expected to find something like this. I find it hard to believe that Royster was involved.”

Eleven photographs were taped to the cinder blocks of the basement wall. They were laid out in order of mutilation. The first picture showed one slice in the torso, the next one to the right, two and so on. The victim was Sally Windermere.

“How could someone be pressured into doing this?” Paige’s voice was near a whisper.

Jack flicked his lighter but never lit his cigarette. Instead, he tucked it into his shirt pocket. “We’re going to need to give notification to Sally’s mother.” He paused and glanced at me, “And since you made the promise, you can do the job.”

The academy had trained me for situations like that, but I never looked forward to putting that knowledge to use. I nodded.

“What’s going on down here?” Sheriff Harris came into the room.

“Nice of you to show up,” Jack said.

Deputy White had come by when Jones was here but had left in search of coffee. He said something about not sleeping much at all after witnessing what he had yesterday.

We filled the Sheriff in on what we’d learned up to this point. On our way in from Quantico Jack went over how important it was to cooperate with local law enforcement but added the stipulation,
if it would benefit the investigation.
Jack didn’t share the fact we believed another unsub was roaming free.

Harris rubbed his jaw and placed his other hand on his rounded belly where he moved it in a circular motion. “I find all this hard to believe. Earl took it real hard when his brother went missin’. I just don’t see him being this kind of person.”

“Usually the ones we’d least expect are the really sick ones.”

Harris shrugged in response to Jack’s statement. “It’s just you think you know somebody. Do you think he took part out of fear for his own life?”

“Hard to say, but what might have started off as finding justice for his brother turned hellish quickly. We do believe that he suspected Bingham of killing his brother—”

“Oh yeah, that’s not a real surprise. Earl talked about Bingham all the time.”

“All the time? And you only think to mention this now?”

“Honestly never thought anything of it. But yeah, we’d have drinks sometimes down at the Pig Sty.” He must have noticed our expression. “Just a small bar. Anyway, he’d say that something wasn’t right with the man. But then, after a while, he stopped saying things like that. He started praisin’ the man, saying that he was a hard worker, focused. Guess you guys will be headed out now seeing as you know your unsub is dead.”

“Not yet. There are still questions we need answers to. There are also numerous photos on Royster’s computer. One I’d like you to see.”

I wondered if Jack was going to show him the one of the two work boots, and the fact we suspected another killer. Instead, he showed him the one of the pig trough.

“That’s old Gord’s place. I only know ’cause of the marking on the trough.”

There was painted lettering that had worn from exposure to weather, but it looked like it read
Maggie.

“That’s the name the missus gives all their sows. Anyways, Gord lives a couple miles down the road from Bi-Bingham’s property. He’s the largest pig farmer in the area. He sells the meat to some big fancy food producer.”

“And Bingham worked for him?” I asked.