Adoption Page 5

  Before I could say another word, Ken looked right into my eyes and said, “There is the probability you will find at least four more bodies buried out at Meadow Pond. There have been four girls reported missing in a one hundred mile radius of Sutton, and all of them have disappeared within the last two years. Am I correct?” It was obvious Ken’s investigators were reviewing past records just as we were. I would rather have two agencies investigating the same information to reduce the possibility of missing some important piece of information that might be critical to solving this crime.

  “Well, I see we are on the same track with this Ken, and you’re absolutely right. The first two abductions occurred in Worcester. The next one happened in Northbridge and the last one in Oxford. All young women in their late teens to mid-twenties, each disappearing without a trace and no witnesses. These girls just vanished. Vehicles from two of the abductions were recovered without so much as grain of sand in the carpeting. Is this the same information your guys came up with?” I asked leaning forward in my chair, putting my hands to my face and elbows onto my desktop.

  “Pretty damned close Ron. But, to go a little further: none of the victims’ families ever received any type of ransom note or phone call regarding their daughters. There was no attempt at all to contact them asking for any sort of ransom. None of the parents, family members, relatives, neighbors or co-workers interviewed have any ideas or suggestions as to why these girls would have gone missing or why they would be targeted and abducted. We know most perps have a motive for their actions. Very seldom do these people act on a whim or spur-of-the-moment impulse. Offenders at this level are directed by thought processes that drive them to perform unspeakable acts, sometimes with no control over their own actions. So, in this case, my gut instinct is telling me the same thing yours is telling you. We may, in fact, have a serial killer on our hands. His body count just went up to five, and he will continue to abduct and kill young women until we stop him!”

  Ken and I looked at one another both knowing, without saying a single word, that this case was the type of case every law enforcement officer prays they will never have to work… this type of investigation takes its toll on everyone. The victims, victim’s families, law enforcement personnel working the leads and clues, medical personnel and even the spouses and families of all those involved who would suffer during the weeks and months ahead.

  Just as Ken was standing up to leave, Derek came charging into my office. His face looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights as he spoke: “The Staties at the crime scene over at Meadow…,” he hesitated, caught his breath, and continued in broken, short words. “They…just…found ...another…body!”

  13

  When I arrived at Meadow Pond, the crime scene buzzed like a bee hive with a dozen or so investigators and officers combing the surrounding brush, small trees and pond’s embankment. Although the Staties were in control of the crime scene, Todd and Kim were the ones who actually located the second body. Both looked like the last eighteen hours were starting to catch up with them. They had been searching the embankment about one hundred feet from where the boys first stumbled upon Christine’s body earlier in the day. Kim was pulling dead leaves and small branches away from the embankment when she saw the tips of three fingers sticking out of the dirt. She immediately called over to Todd and the two of them cleared away just enough of the soil to expose the entire left hand of the victim. The original crime scene immediately quadrupled in size.

  A silent hush hung over everyone like a fog bank blanketing an inlet harbor. The discovery of the second victim, combined with the knowledge that four other young women were known to have disappeared within a one hundred mile radius of Sutton, told us we were standing at the burial site of a serial killer. My mind was racing at the thought of finding four more bodies buried out here. So far, other than the two bodies, no other items or clues had been found that would help our investigation. Whoever our killer was, he or she was as meticulous with the burial of the victims as he or she was with the detailing of Christine’s car.

  The thought crossed my mind that it would be easier on our small police force if the other victims were found outside of our jurisdiction. This investigation was certain to be an emotional drain on our police force as well as a financial drain on our town. I kept thinking that I should be ashamed of myself for thinking about economics at a time like this, but this was the reality of a small town police force.

  Approaching Todd and Kim, I could see they were visibly shaken by the discovery of the second body. Sutton has never experienced multiple murders like those of this event. We have had the usual domestic disputes that sometimes turn very violent, but to my knowledge, there had only been one homicide in the town’s history. The husband of the murdered woman left a note saying that his wife was dead because government agents were watching him through his television set. He knew she was part of the conspiracy, so he shot her and then turned the gun on himself taking his own life. Surreal as that murder suicide was, it was not even close to what we were dealing with here.

  “Where is the second body?” I asked as Kim looked up to meet my eyes.

  “Right over here Chief,” she said pointing down the embankment about fifty feet away. “We haven’t moved anything else since we exposed the hand. The Staties have kept their distance, too, waiting for you to get here before they dig her out the rest of the way.”

  Todd was looking out across the ice-covered pond as Kim and I spoke. He turned slowly, looking at me with a knowing sense and said, “There are more victims buried out here aren’t there, Chief?”

  “Yeah,” I spoke softly. “There could be up to four more victims that we know about right now. I just met with Ken Garber at the station, and while we were talking, Derick came into my office and showed us what his investigation turned up. We don’t have much to go on right now, so please, keep this under your hats until we can develop a base of information to work from. We don’t want any information leaking out to the press that we don’t personally release ourselves. Ken agrees and will instruct his staff to keep the lid on this as well. Right now we do not want our killer to know who we have found or what we know, which right now, by the way, is damned little and very frustrating. Kim, I want you to tag team the Statie who is in charge here at the scene. I don’t care how much OT you have to put in. I want to know what they know, when they know it. Todd, I need you to get back to the station and give Derek a hand going through the information on our other four victims. We need to compare the files on each of these girls and try to find a connection linking them to our killer. Let me know whatever you find, whenever you find it. I don’t care if I am eating a god-damned York Peppermint Patty with the President of the United States, you find me and let me know.”

  Neither Kim nor Todd said a word. They knew me well enough to know I was shifting into my “take no prisoners” mode and would be increasingly more demanding of everyone on our team as the hours and days went on. I walked over to the spot where the second body was buried and saw the exposed hand sticking out of the dirt. It did not look real to me as I stood looking at the ground in direct proximity to the beckoning fingers. A solitary hand, reaching. I felt as if she wanted me to grab her hand and pull her out of this dirt grave back into the world of the living, or perhaps she wanted me to get closer so she could whisper something into my ear to help me trap her tormentor.

  Looking over to my right, I could see the opened hole in the dirt embankment - Christine’s earthen sarcophagus these past months. As the State Police began removing our second victim, I wondered how long our second Jane Doe had slept silently by the water’s edge and how long it would be before we found yet another grave. I took out my cell phone and called Doc Cavanaugh to tell him about our second victim. Because the State Police investigators were already at the scene, I asked Doc to stay at the hospital until we could extricate our newest Jane Doe and transport her there for his initial examination
. I also asked Doc if Jerry Bickford was still there, and if so, to please let him know his assistance with the additional post mortem would speed up the process and get the information to both local and state police that much quicker.

  “Chief Kosciak,” I heard one of the officers, who was part of the team removing our Jane Doe from the winter ground, call out. “We have her pretty much freed up here. Do you want to take a look before we put her into the bag for transport?”

  I didn’t say anything, but motioned with a wave of my hand and nod of my head that I did want to look. Walking toward the body I felt a tightness grow in my stomach. The kind of cramp you get when you are anxious and really do not want to do something, but know you have no choice. I did not want to look at another young, beautiful girl lying dead on the ground, the victim of some perverted maniac. But, there she was, about the same age as Christine. I put her at about twenty-two to twenty-five years old. Her brownish- blond hair was the same color as Christine’s. She was about the same height and weight, but, there was one marked difference between the two girls. Our Jane Doe still had both of her eyes and her lips. Instead, the killer cut off both her ears!

  14

  The winter moonlight fell across leafless hills, silhouetting fingers of trees reaching toward the sky. Skeletal branches moved slightly with the cold breeze of winter giving them an eerie rhythm. As I was driving back to the station from Meadow Pond, the second young woman was on her way to the morgue. Christine’s autopsy would be just finishing up when our Jane Doe arrived. We knew Christine’s death was caused by the injection of the three drugs into her carotid artery, and that the circular brand mark on her neck was meant to camouflage the injection points. The brand mark we found on Christine’s neck was also found on the neck of our Jane Doe and therefore I was theorizing the killer used the lethal injection procedure on this victim as well. Christine was not sexually assaulted during her ordeal, and if the second victim was not as well, we could be pretty sure that this was not part of our killer’s m.o. Though, by removing Christine’s eyes and lips and cutting off Jane Doe’s ears, the killer was obviously taking trophies as keepsakes. The second autopsy would tell us if the killer worked with any other sort of pattern other than the mutilation. If there was no sexual assault on the second victim, we could be pretty sure the remaining three missing women were also not sexually assaulted. The murder victims and other missing women share the same age bracket and were all enrolled in local colleges. Two were Caucasian, two were Black, and one Asian. All of this information was beginning to give us a picture of our killer. My only problem now, that this picture came in the form of a jig-saw puzzle with pieces scattered from here to Hades.

  Turning onto West Main Street, I decided to stop at the twenty-four hour doughnut shop for a coffee. After losing eight pounds in a month, I was finding it more than difficult to stay away from their sugar-coated, jelly doughnuts. Jelly doughnuts were designed by a very sadistic baker to taunt people like me. Sometimes I gave in to my craving, but lately, I had been holding out steadfastly against devouring one of those little culinary beauties – that is, until tonight.

  Opening the door of the Explorer, I saw my brother Paul talking with one of our Highway Department workers. I was not surprised to see him at this late hour because he frequently stopped here on his way home from the weekly poker tournament at the Gray Barn. Paul is a retired history teacher from a neighboring high school and spends his days either playing golf or substitute teaching per diem. Looking over as I approached him in the parking lot, Paul nodded his recognition, ending his conversation and turned walking over toward me.

  “Hey there little brother,” he said with his usual hint of loving brotherly sarcasm. “How is the family law enforcement officer doing this fine night?”

  “I love you too. Good to see you still hanging out at the doughnut shop in your golden years. What are you and Cindy up to?” Cindy was Paul’s wife – also a retired teacher.

  “Same ol’, same ol’. We were up in Peabody yesterday visiting Dan, Alex and the baby. Man, that boy is growing like a corn stock in the July sun. He is only two months old and weighs in at sixteen pounds. Glad I don’t have to pay to feed him! What about you and Peggy? Are you guys going to the family get together at Wright’s Farm next week?”

  Wright’s farm is a local restaurant specializing in serving chicken dinners family style. All the chicken, salad, shells and fries you can eat for one price. They have the best French fries in the world (I know this from personal, gastrointestinal experience). Their salad dressing is delicious and is also sold in the local supermarkets. Each year, around this time, Peggy’s dad, his children’s families, his brothers and sisters, and all their families, gather at Wrights for an annual get-together. Last year, we reached the largest attendance ever, at seventy-two hungry people eating themselves into oblivion. It is the one time each year where everyone is able to catch up on the “goings on” in each of the families and no one has to do any dishes!

  “Yes,” I replied. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although, we have a new case we are working on, so I think I will only be there for a short while. But you damned well know Mike wouldn’t talk to me for a month if I wasn’t there to buy him his VO and ginger! Holy shit man, I’m crazy but not stupid!” We both laughed knowing that I was only partly being humorous.

  “You working the Sawyer girl’s case?” Paul asked.

  I looked at him inquisitively, wondering how the hell word of Christine’s discovery could have spread so quickly.

  “I’ve heard some people talking around town tonight.” He continued, “Word has it that you found her out at Meadow.”

  “Yeah, we found her buried in an embankment at the pond. Doc Cavanaugh is finishing up the autopsy. It amazes me how fast news travels in a small town. I can’t say any more because of the sensitivity of the case. I don’t want any more information than necessary getting out to the newspapers. As it is, I’m surprised this much information has already leaked out. By morning, the townspeople will know more than I do.” I started to turn away, hesitated and said, “Paul, let me know if you hear anything else out on the street or at the school. Even if you hear something on the 9th tee, give me a call right away.”

  “Not a problem, little brother,” he replied with that older brother’s grin on his face again. “See you at Wright’s.”

  Stepping up into my Explorer, I heard Kim’s voice on my radio.

  “Kim LaFleur to Chief Kosciak, LaFleur to Kosciak.”

  “Kosciak here; go ahead Kim.”

  “Chief, can you give me a call on my cell phone? I have something I need to tell you privately.”

  “Received. I’ll call right away. Stand by.”

  I was trying to talk on the radio and hold my coffee at the same time. Not the easiest thing in the world to do while you are sitting in the cramped front seat of a police vehicle. After struggling to get the coffee cup into the cup holder, I was able to take out my cell phone and call Kim. She answered before the first ring finished.

  “Chief,” she said, sounding like she was trying to catch her breath. “I didn’t want to say anything over the radio just in case someone was on the same frequency listening to our conversation.”

  “Understood: What do you have for me?”

  “Well, you were absolutely right. The Staties have found two more bodies out here at the pond. The count is now up to four! It looks like this is the burial ground for our killer. So far all of the bodies have been found within a couple hundred feet of one another. The last body was found buried about 50 feet inland from the pond’s embankment. The Staties have called for more vehicles to transport the women over to the hospital.”

  “O.K. Stay out there at the scene as long as you can. I know you are coming up on twenty-four straight hours. When you get ready to leave, call into the station and I’ll have someone come out there to relieve you. I want one of our team out
there at all times. I need to get information as soon as you people do. Kosciak: out.”

  I sat motionless in the front seat for a few minutes knowing that the remaining girls would also be found buried at the pond. My heart hurt for the parents and families that I would have to contact as each victim was identified. Over the next few days a pallor would begin to fall over this the town. News of this magnitude could not be kept from the public for long, and once they heard the news, they would know there was a serial killer preying on little New England sanctuary. Feeling safe will be a thing of the past, and nothing the police could do would be enough to calm anyone’s nerves. Everyone would becoming hyper-vigilant, reporting anything or anyone looking suspicious or out of place. The station phones were bound to ring off the desk tops with leads and tips. The difficult part will be when to really listen to people calling in. You must discern which leads are real and which are false. Hours could be spent following up on a lead called in by someone just looking for the attention. Wasted time, valuable time, crucial time. Time you can never replace.

  Pulling onto West Main Street, I decided it was time to check in with Peggy. It was just past midnight, and too late to call. She would be fast asleep by the time I got home. I know I am fortunate to have a wife who understands the demands of a police chief’s work. I grew up hearing my father repeat, “my job is seven twenty-four,” but the police chief’s job is even more than that, and Peggy knew before we were married that I would have two marriages to be responsible for – and sometimes she would be second.

  15

  Marty McMaster started her day with the usual flurry of hectic activity a college sophomore late for class would create: running from the bathroom to the bedroom; looking for her comb and blow dryer; putting on eye liner and lipstick and, most importantly, making sure her cell phone was tucked into its place in her small, hand-sewn, beaded pocketbook. Bolting through the kitchen, she grabbed a granola bar, and quickly walked out the back door, across the lawn, and down the sidewalk towards the coffee shop about a half mile down the road. She would have to cut across the small park at the end of their street but other than that shortcut, she would be on sidewalks all the way.