Profile of Terror (20 page)

"Talked me into it," Gabe placed his folded menu on top of Cameron's.

Robynn said, "It seems we are all ordering the same thing. Thank you."

Once the waitress left, the detective was all business.  "Detective Chase—"

"Cameron."

"Cameron, your brother here tells me that he made some discoveries during his search for Abby Reece that could help the investigation.  I'm sure you'd like to hear what he's found.  I know I would."

She pulled her tape recorder out of her pocket, turned it on to record, and set it in the middle of the table.

To Cameron, Gabe said, "This was what I was trying to tell you when you raced off for that call."  The last thing Gabe wanted was for his brother to think he was holding out on him, and was only prompted to give him this information because a State Police detective asked.

Cameron nodded and said, "Go on."

"You've seen Abby's photos on her Facebook page?"

"Who hasn't?"

"She made herself a target for every sex predator in the country, so it might be a good idea to do a house-to-house sweep of registered sex predators in Shawnee County.  We also might suggest the same be done in Tippecanoe County where she went to Purdue.  Who has an alibi for the night Abby was murdered?  Who doesn't?" 

"I agree," Cameron replied. 

"The email sent by the killers was sent through Abby's laptop at her apartment."

Her left eyebrow rising suspiciously, Robynn asked, "How do you know her laptop was at her apartment?  How do you know that the killers didn't take it?"

"For one thing, her sister, Kaitlyn, told me."  This was a creative twist of the truth, but Kaitlyn
had
seen Abby's laptop in her sister's apartment the day she was watching him download its hard drive from the closet.  Not that Detective Burton was going to get this information from him.  That would put him on the fast track to a tampering with evidence charge, among others.  Not to mention he'd lose his computer forensic certification.

"In addition, when I received the email, I tracked the IP address to Abby's apartment."

"Explain how you did this."

"When tracking computers, we look at the IP address, which identifies the network card in your computer.  That's how I knew the email came from Abby's laptop."

Glancing at Cameron, he said, "You have to get possession of Abby's laptop right away.  The killers may have left prints on it.  In addition, we need a warrant for her Internet Service Provider to get transcripts of her emails."

"I sent an officer with a warrant to Abby's place in West Lafayette this morning."  Cameron checked his watch. "He may be on his way back to Morel with it at this very moment."

Robynn said to Gabe, "I know about your certification and that you consult for the sheriff's office, but you
cannot
touch this laptop.  A good defense attorney could get anything of evidentiary value tossed out by revealing you were once a suspect in the case.  You could severely impact the prosecution's case."

"I realize that," said Gabe.  "That's why another computer forensics expert will be handling the laptop."

"Who?" asked Cameron.

"Anne Mason Brandt.  She got her certification last year and is excellent at what she does.  Anne has done a lot of work for her husband, Michael, who is a prosecuting attorney.  Her examination of a suspect's computer helped crack the serial arson case he had last month."

"I think I've heard of her," said Robynn.  "Didn't she once co-own a computer company in Indianapolis?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't she stalked by a former employee, who murdered customers that complained about him?"

"Yes.  He killed the co-owner, too.  Thank God, that's behind her.  She's happily married with twins, and consults out of her home."

"Back to Abby's murder case," prompted Cameron. "What else do you have?"

"I talked to Emily Smith, one of Abby's friends, and she was supposed to meet Abby at Hoosier Sports Bar and Grill the night she disappeared.  Emily bumped into her boyfriend on the way to the bar and spent the night with him instead of meeting Abby.  She said she tried to call Abby to tell her she couldn't make it, but just got her voicemail."

"So you're assuming Abby went to the bar alone," said Robynn.

"I'm not assuming.  I
know
she did." Gabe pulled out his laptop.  "I have the surveillance tape from the bar."  He set his laptop on the table, and turned it around so they could see the display.  "Here is Abby leaving the bar at closing and walking to her car."

"Okay, we believe she was at the bar," Robynn remarked.

"There's more.  Let me rewind a bit. See these two men in hoodies who leave before Abby?  Watch as they get into a white van and wait there for thirty minutes.  It's a long shot, but what were they waiting for?  Were they waiting for Abby to leave the bar?"

"Did they follow her when she left?" asked Cameron.

"No, they took off before she came out," Gabe replied.

"Then I don't see how they're related to the case.  Two men outside a bar having a conversation before they leave means nothing.  They left before the victim did."

"Cam, Kaitlyn talked to the bartender on duty the night Abby disappeared. He told her that two men were focused on Abby that night, and that they left before she did.  Show him the surveillance tape and see if the two men on the tape are the same ones who danced with Abby."

Cameron paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, "I intend to talk to the bartender anyway.  I'll show him the surveillance tape and ask him about these guys.  Depending on what he shares, I'll get a sketch artist out there."

Chapter Seven
     
 

Cameron leaned against the door frame behind Carly and Gabe, who sat in visitor chairs in front of the sheriff's desk.  Cameron was pleased that once Gabe was cleared of any involvement in Abby's murder, Brody hired him back as the computer forensics consultant.  Although Gabe couldn't deal with any of the computer forensics found on Abby's computer, he could advise Anne Brandt, who was handling that work. 

"So tell me why we're meeting with an Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Detective," asked Brody.  "You realize this might be valuable time wasted that we could use to catch our killer."

"Any piece of information, no matter how small, could help us solve Abby's homicide." Carly drummed her fingers on the arms of the chair.

"And stop the killers from adding more victims to their list," added Gabe.

"Let's hear him out." Cameron didn't believe in overlooking even the slightest possibility.  "I wouldn't have let him drive down here from Indianapolis if I didn't think his theory had merit.  If he's right, and our cases are connected, his findings might help us crack our case."

"Sounds like I'm outnumbered," said Brody dryly.  "Cam, while you get our guest from the lobby, the rest of us can head toward the conference room."

<><><> 

Indianapolis Detective Wayne Griffin was a short, stocky man, whose lined face wore the stress of chasing criminals.  He entered the conference room with a thick file folder under his arm, and an evidence bag in his hand, which he slid to the center of the oval table.  It contained a shoe that matched the one worn by Abby Reece.

Cameron introduced the detective to the sheriff.

"I heard you have a profiler working your case," Wayne said to Brody.

"That would be me.  I'm Carly Stone.  Good to meet you," Carly interrupted with an outstretched hand that the detective clasped briefly.

"Glad to meet you, too.  You're one of the reasons I'm here.  I could use your expertise," said the detective.  "We've been chasing our tails for a year.  Every time we think we might be close, another body is found."

"Know the feeling. Got the T-shirt. We had a serial last year."  Brody's jaw tightened.

"Jim Ryder, right?"

Brody nodded. "So you can imagine how happy we were to find the body of a Purdue coed posed naked in an alley near a local bar." Brody paused for a moment and added, "I'll be honest, Detective. I don't see how our cases are connected."  Indicating a seat at the conference table for the detective, Brody sat down.  The others followed suit.

"Cameron filled me in on your homicide," Wayne began.  "I won't argue with you.  The M.O. is different from the prostitute murders we're working.  But the fact is — the shoe found on your body was identified by our fifth victim's mother as belonging to her daughter, Sara Cassity."

"Go on," prompted Brody.

"We've had five prostitutes murdered in a year.   It seems nobody cares if a working girl gets knocked off, except their families.  We hear from most of them every day.  Not much empathy from the public, though.  Most think the girls deserved what they got."

"Unfortunately," Carly began.  "Blaming women working in high-risk occupations for the violence done to them is too common.  What most people don't realize is that many girls enter the sex trade because they're on the street after running away from physical and sexual abuse in their own homes. A lot of them are homeless.  They put themselves in so much danger selling sex to strangers."

The detective nodded in agreement, and then continued.  "When Cameron agreed to let me discuss our murders with all of you, I jumped at the chance."  Wayne took out five photographs.  "Let me introduce you to each of our five victims, and then I'll go through a list of similarities between their murders and Abby Reece's slaying.  You can tell me if you see a stronger connection between our cases than just the shoe."

He tapped on the first photograph, slid it to the center of the table, and said, "This is Darla Green.  She was a meth head who was seventeen-years- old when she died.  A known prostitute, Darla had no police record — at least not yet."

"She looks older than seventeen." Brody studied the photo before he passed it to Gabe.

"Working the streets will do that to a person," Wayne replied dryly.

Pointing to the second photo, which was a mug shot, the detective said, "Meet Sharon Maud.  Sharon's mother reported her missing two days before we found her body.  She was nineteen-years-old, and had been arrested for solicitation and drugs."

"Was Sharon close to her mother?" asked Carly. 

"Yes, they saw each other or talked by phone every day. Her three kids live with her mother."

"What about the others?  Did they have a mother or friends close to them, who they might have shared their activities and whereabouts?" 

"No, not really.  The majority of these girls were loners."

"The next picture is of Val Staley.  She was a runaway from Chicago who lived in the Indianapolis area for six months prior to her murder.  No arrest records. She was only fifteen." 

Wayne referred to the fourth photo. "Marie Engle was an eighteen-year-old stripper who trolled the area truck stops, offering sex for extra money to support her two kids."

"Our last victim is Sara Cassity, also age eighteen.  She used to work around Tenth Street, but friends say she moved to the truck stops because she thought it would be more lucrative.  Like Darla and Sharon, Sara had a drug problem she was feeding."

Brody spoke up.  "So far I'm not seeing much in the way of similarities by comparing your murders to ours.  Our victim was in her twenties, and an attractive university student.  She wasn't involved in drugs, or a high-risk trade like prostitution."

"Let me continue.  I think you'll find my team's analysis of the murders interesting," Wayne said.  "Our victims were all prostitutes who worked the area truck stops selling sex from cab-to-cab as the trucks lined up for rest or fuel breaks." 

Gabe turned his open laptop around to show the others an online news headline.  "Are these killings referred to by the media as the 'Truck Stop Murders'?'"

"Yeah.  All of the victims were hitting the area truck stops to sell sex to the truckers."

"What time frame are we talking about?" asked Cameron.

"We started finding bodies last January.  The latest victim, Sara Cassity, was found in June," said Wayne. 

"And then Abby Reece was found this month," Brody noted.

"Do you think you have
one
killer?" Gabe asked.

"There's a possibility there are two.  We tried to track down a white bakery van seen on a couple of the truck stops' surveillance tapes.  It turned out to be a dead end because the bakery listed on the sign had one of their magnetic van signs stolen, and we couldn't make out the license plate in the tape.  We did talk to a clerk who remembers two men got out of the van wearing baker's uniforms underneath black hoodies.  They came inside and bought Cokes.  He didn't offer much of an I.D.  He only got a quick look at one of the men.  He said the one who paid for their items looked young, maybe even a teenager."

"Gabe spotted a white van on one of our surveillance tapes."  Cameron said.

"Was it a white 2012 Chevrolet 1500 utility van?"  Wayne asked Gabe.

"Yes." Gabe nodded.

"That's the problem," Wayne remarked, scratching his head. "Do you realize how many white utility vans there are in the Indianapolis area alone?  It will take forever to track them all down."

"Where were your bodies found?" asked Brody.

"The bodies were found dumped in rural areas.  We found one on a creek bed, another in a ravine, and the rest in wooded areas not far from a road.  Every one of them was naked.  No personal belongings to be found."

"Since you found them near a road, it sounds like your killer wanted the bodies to be found sooner rather than later," said Carly.  "This may go back to the killers' need for recognition."  She paused for a moment, then went on.  "However, your killers didn't want you to identify the victims right away.  That's why they stripped each of their belongings."

Cameron spoke up.  "No rural dump site for our victim.  Her body was found in an alley near a local bar.  Her body was posed, not just dumped."

Carly shrugged her shoulders.  "Cam, there is still our killers' craving for recognition that may be escalating, since now they are notifying the press."

"That's true, Carly."  He turned to the Indy detective.  "What was the cause of death?  Were the five women killed in the same way?"

"One of our victims was severely beaten, but like the rest, the cause of death was suffocation.  Each was found with a plastic bag secured around her neck. No fingerprints.  No DNA from the doer." 

Brody leaned forward, his elbows on the table.  "Interesting. Abby Reece had a plastic bag over her head that her killers used to smother her.  However, she was not beaten."

"Don't forget the shoe Abby Reece was wearing," the detective said. "Except for Darla Green, our victims were nude, and wearing a piece of jewelry, shoe or another personal item that belonged to one of the other victims."

"Seriously?  Now we're getting into similarities!"  Gabe said.

Carly paused a moment before speaking. Glancing at Brody, then at Wayne, she said, "I think the murders
are
connected, and our killers have purposely changed their mode of operation. They've even changed their victim preference by moving from prostitutes to a coed. That's unusual for serial killers, but I think that is exactly what they are doing.  They placed Sara Cassity's shoe on Abby Reece's foot to make sure they got credit for killing the five prostitutes in Indianapolis.  They want us to know they've killed before.  They're proud of the fact the Indy police haven't caught them, but on the other hand, they crave recognition."

<><><> 

Destiny Cooke parked her new crimson pearl Honda Civic outside the First Baptist Church on U.S. Route 136, south of Morel city limits.  Scanning the parking lot, she spotted her parents' Lincoln and Justin's Indiana State Police car.  This was the second best day of her life.  The first best day was when Justin asked her to marry him; the second was tonight's rehearsal and dinner, and the third would be their wedding day on Saturday.  She was the luckiest girl in the entire universe, and she'd gladly debate anyone who thought differently.

Pulling down the visor to check her look in the mirror, she applied some lip gloss and powdered her nose.  After all, she had to look her best for her fiancé, who was the hottest and most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on.  Destiny made that decision the first time she saw him sitting on her school bus her freshman year.  By her sophomore year, they only had eyes for each other, and despite her parents' objections, they were going steady.  It wasn't just that he was white and she was African-American.  They said she was too young to be focused on just one boy.  But they didn't know Justin like she did.  He was her soul mate in every way.