Caching Out (8 page)

“It
won’t be long now,” Gavin stood to go inside. “Better get inside Gav, because
you’re going to want a good seat once the show begins.” As he’d predicted, it
wasn’t long at all. He stared at his laptop screen and heard the barking dog
and people calling the kid’s name through his computer speaker. He encouraged
them as if it were a sporting event, “Just a little further. You’re almost
there.”  He got the primo seat to watch it all in living, or dying as the case
was, color. Gavin knew the exact instant that the boy had been found.

Eyes
glued to the screen, Gavin watched the old sheriff lead the boy’s father over
to ID the body then saw the man nod his head and turn away to walk back to his
wife who stood at the edge of the clearing. The man leaned in close and said something
to her. The woman’s scream filled the small cabin and sent an excited chill
down Gavin’s back as she pulled away from the man and pushed her way past two
county officers. She fell on the ground at her son’s side, her cries tearing
into the still night.

Gavin
gasped, mocking compassion. “How touching.” Two deputies pulled the woman up
and away from the boy’s small body and lead her back to her husband. One deputy
stood with the couple while a second deputy stepped away, pulled a roll of
yellow tape from his jacket, and then roped the crime scene off. The search
team was forced out of the clearing by one of the deputies and out of Gavin’s
limited camera view. That left only the old sheriff standing near the body, solemnly
guarding the lifeless child.

In
the upper right corner of the computer screen, Gavin saw the man still trying
to console his wife. Reaching over to his keyboard and pushing a button Gavin
centered on and enlarged the couple on his screen. He stared at the woman, “Not
so happy now, huh?  Sorry about that, but he did take my coin.” 

The
woman bent at the waist and rocked back and forth, one hand clasped over her
mouth, the other covered her belly. The man leaned over, said something to her
and she shook her head at him. He pulled his wife upward and wrapped her in his
arms, turning so that she was no longer facing the mutilated body of their
young son. The man closed his eyes as tears ran freely down his face. Gavin forced
the computer screen back to full view and sat back on the worn couch, “There
you have it folks. A classic Hollywood moment.”  

With
a deputies’ help, the man pulled his wife out of the clearing and toward the
trail, away from the crime scene. As they made their exit, three people, two
men and a woman, all wearing dark-colored windbreakers stepped into the
camera’s range

Gavin
studied them with interest. “Ah, the Crime Scene Unit has arrived!”  He grabbed
another beer without taking his eyes off the screen. “Now, they’re a busy group,”
he mumbled as the three member team split and went to work. Moving to the
perimeter of the clearing, a tall, lanky man set up spotlights in various
locations, turning each one on as he went. The area brightened with each light he
positioned, their focused beams illuminating the entire clearing.

Lifting
his beer in salute, Gavin smiled, “My stage, my play and I directed it all.” 

One
of them knelt on the ground away from the body and pulled a digital camera from
a bag. He snapped shot after shot of the scene and body. He then stood near the
middle of the clearing, his camera aimed and focused at the surrounding area. Turning
his body, he snapped each shot not missing one inch of the forest.

“Panoramic,”
Gavin hooted. “Now that’s cool!  Of course, there’s still nothing like a live
video to make the show! Too bad you guys only get stills.” 

Zooming
in on the sheriff, still standing a few feet behind the boy, Gavin brought the
officer’s face full screen. Pointing at the man on his computer Gavin laughed,
not a snicker but a full throaty, belly shaking laugh. “The old guy’s about to
cry. Now, that’s rich. A cop with feelings!” 

Adjusting
the screen back to its normal size, Gavin looked on as the CSU woman pulled on
a pair of latex gloves and stepped forward, kneeling next to the boy’s body. Carefully
picking up the little hand, she ran a small scalpel under each nail then dropped
her findings into a plastic bag.

Gavin
snorted with disgust. “Lady, you are so wasting your time.” By the time that
kid woke all the way up he was so far into the K-hole that he didn’t care what
happened to him. It hit him so hard he puked. “Hell, he was so little that it
was almost a waste of twenty five bucks to put him there.” 

The
woman placed her scalpel into its case and pulled out what appeared to be a
mini-vacuum cleaner, and ran it over the boy’s clothes in a methodical pattern.
Slipping the filter off the vacuum, she slid the entire thing into a separate
bag and placed it in her duffle.

Gavin
reached forward to increase the volume and chuckled, “Wonder what’s next in her
bag of tricks?”

Stone-faced,
the old Sheriff watched the investigative team work the site. Looking up he
spotted a man pushing through the brush into the clearing, the sheriff raised
his hand and said, “Daniel, over here.”

Nursing
his second beer, Gavin saw a large and probably Native American man step into
the clearing and watched the younger man walk toward the sheriff. He had a jacket
that said ME on it. “Coroner didn’t take long on this one,” Gavin whispered.

The
man stepped over to the sheriff and shook his hand. Gavin strained to hear the
sheriff say, “Hell of a thing to happen to a kid, Daniel. I stopped you before
you saw the body to let you know that I want to keep the details quiet for now.
You’ll know what I mean when you see the boy.” 

The
younger man glanced over his shoulder to where the female CSU agent bent over
the child’s body and nodded.

The
sheriff continued, “I don’t have a lot of details yet, but Mr. Babcock, the father,
called 911 almost two hours ago and said his eight-year-old son was missing. Said
that he and the Missus had taken a walk down to the pier and that both boys
were sound asleep when they left the cabin. When the call came in, I expected
maybe the kid fell into the lake or got lost, but it only took a minute for the
dog to pick up a scent and lead us here.” 

Gavin
grinned, “Now I had to make it easy for you to find didn’t I? It’s not like you
guys are the sharpest tools in the shed.”

Nodding
again, the ME moved to the child’s side, kneeling down next to the tiny body
and gently examining the child for any signs of life. He shook his head and
checked his watch before he quietly spoke with the woman.

Too
quietly for Gavin to hear. “Damn it!” he said, trying once again to boost the
volume on his computer.

The
ME stepped back to allow the investigator to finish her job. There was nothing
that he could do except wait. Gavin watched as the ME moved to stand at the
sheriff’s side and for a while neither man spoke. The two CSU men moved in a grid
search pattern covering the entire clearing. They moved back and forth across
the area methodically, each sweeping the ground with portable lights.

 “I’m
guessing that you noticed that the M.O. is the same as the Parker murder,” the
ME said, his voice low but still audible to Gavin.

 “Yeah,
I noticed.” The sheriff’s voice was gruff and hard-edged, and he shook his head
as if to clear it. “What I don’t get is why?  Why this little boy?  A serial
killer usually sticks to a certain type and the only similarity that I can come
up with on this one is that Parker was an elementary teacher and this kid was
damn sure still in elementary school.”

“You
already let Tate know?”

“Yeah,
he’s on his way to the courthouse now. This one is a county investigation, but
we’re working them both together. I’ll be taking the Babcocks back to town for
the night. The boy’s mother doesn’t want to stay here anymore. I’ve got two
deputies out now talking with the other guests who had cabins on the lakeshore
and those that have rentals from the lake up to here. Need to see if anyone saw
or heard anything and we need statements tonight while it’s still fresh. Let me
know when you’re ready to move the body, okay?”

The
ME nodded,  took a look at the kid then turned to say something to the old
sheriff that Gavin didn’t catch before he disappeared off the screen. “They’re
wrapping it up, Gav. Show’s about over for tonight, but it
has
been a
good one.” 

The
CSU lady finally stood and zipped her duffle bag, moving away from the body to talk
with the two men on her team. Gavin watched the sheriff reach into his pants pocket
and pull something out. “Hmm, wonder what he’s up to now?” Resting his elbows  on
his knees, Gavin saw the old guy bend and use a pocket knife to cut the boys
hands free of the red cording that they’d been tied with. Movement on the
corner of the screen caught his eye and Gavin muttered, “Here comes that Indian
dude again.”   

The
two men lifted the body onto an open body bag, zipped it closed and lifted the
boy    onto a waiting gurney.

“Okay,
show’s over.” Gavin hit ‘save’ on the video file and with a few additional
keystrokes he remotely disconnected the camera, erasing any link to his
computer. “Damn I love those little mini-cams! I’m going to watch this one
again and again.” Gavin closed the laptop, and moved back to the chair on the
porch just in time to see the ambulance leave the park followed closely by a
Shannon County police car with the parents and brother of the boy huddled in
the backseat.

Gavin
scanned the park and noticed people gathered in small clusters speaking quietly
to each other. He stepped off of the porch and moved to the closest group. He
made eye contact with a small brunette, smiled and asked, “What’s going on?”

CHAPTER 12

In
his patrol car, now parked on Park Road One, Martin Crawley bent, his hands and
head resting on the steering wheel of his cruiser as rain drummed a slow, sad
song on the metal roof of his car. Sitting up, he used the back of one hand to
wipe warm salty tears from his face and cursed, “Dammit to hell….why?” 
Fumbling for his cell phone, Martin dialed Tate’s number.

Tate
was waiting when Martin pulled his cruiser into the empty parking lot of the
courthouse. Watching from his office window he saw Martin get out of his patrol
car and slip the hood of his rain jacket up over his head. Before Martin reached
his office door, Tate filled two mugs from the coffee pot and placed them on
his desk. From a lower drawer, he pulled out an amber-tinted bottle. Tate splashed
a generous amount of the dark liquid into both cups. It was Sunday and he was
off duty and even if Martin wasn’t, he figured his friend needed something more
than plain, black coffee.

Martin
pulled the door to Tate’s office closed behind him and slipped off his yellow
rain slicker and his hat, hanging them both on hooks inside the door. Taking
the chair across from Tate he slammed a manila folder on the desk then took a
sip from the waiting cup. “What the hell is going on here Tate? First an
elementary teacher is cut to ribbons and now an eight year old kid?  I can’t
understand how something like this could be happening in Pine Ridge. Hell,
except for the summer tourist trade, this is a dying town and we can’t be home
to a sick bastard that would do something like this.”

Tate
flipped the folder open and reached for the small flash drive bagged inside. He
pulled it free and slipped the portable device into his computer. Tate waited
for the photos to load while Martin continued to talk.

“It’s
the same guy. There are too many similarities for it to be anyone else.” 

Pressing
the computer keys that would start the slide show, Tate dreaded the harsh
reality of what he was about to see. Pulling the bottle out again, Tate
splashed a good amount into Martin’s cup as the slides flashed on his monitor. Martin
hadn’t said much on the phone, but Tate had known from his strained tone and
terse replies that the situation was bad. The slides moved from one grizzly
scene to the next and Tate remained silent, allowing Martin to ramble. He knew
the older man needed to talk.

“It
can’t be a copycat—we never released the details on the Parker case. This kid
was marked identically to Parker. He had the rings on his right forearm just
like Saralyn and his face, God, Tate, his face! Can you imagine what his mother
felt when she saw him? I know that the father did the ID, but there was no
keeping that woman back once she knew it was her kid. No stopping her . . .” Martin’s
voice trailed off as he pressed the cup to his lips.

Tate
adjusted his computer, enlarging the slides. As the screen moved from frame to
frame Tate made mental notes of the similarities in the two cases. In all of
the shots, the child’s hands were bound with the same red cording. He was
dressed only in his underwear and a pair of Spiderman pajama bottoms that were
twisted and ripped. Tate asked, “Was this kid sexually assaulted on top of
everything else?” 

“Yeah,
he was,” Martin locked eyes with Tate. “The bastard raped an eight-year-old
boy.” 

Tate
slapped the folder closed and grabbed his hat. “Come on, buddy, I’ll drive you
home. We can talk about this after you’ve gotten some rest.”