Profile of Evil (2 page)

"Hey, Bryan," said Brody. Dr. Bryan Pittman was the county coroner and Brody's best friend since grade school. At thirty-four, Bryan was the youngest and one of the smartest coroners in the state. "How much information can you get from these bodies, considering their condition?"

"I can get a helluva lot more information from these two, than the scatter of bones we examined two years ago. Hopefully, we'll be able to identify them. I don't want another Jane Doe lying in my morgue."

"Why do you say that?"

"The fire was put out before the bodies could burn completely. I should be able to get a good look at their internal organs. But I can give you an unofficial cause of death right now."

"How'd they die?" asked Brody, as he swept his hand over his face.

"Both took a bullet to the back of the skull. Looks execution-style to me, but I won't know for sure without further study. I estimate that the killer could have been as close as three feet from each of the victims when he fired the gun."

Brody looked at Cam, "Any shell casings?"

"We're still looking, but haven't found any yet."

Bryan said, "You may not find any. I don't think this is the primary crime scene. I think the two were killed somewhere else and dumped here with the car. This place is too close to the farmer's house. Not sure the killer could see the farmhouse through the trees. If the farmer didn't hear the first shot, he'd hear the second."

"And the car was torched to destroy the bodies and any evidence," offered Cam. "Like I said, our guy is inexperienced with using fire to hide his crimes. He probably thought the fire would burn faster and longer than it did."

Bryan joined two of his assistants as they bagged both hands of the victim and then fastened the paper bags with string to prevent contamination or loss of evidence that might be found on the fingers, palms or under the fingernails.

"Weren't the hands too burned to lift fingerprints?" asked Brody.

"A man can hope, can't he?" Bryan responded.

Bryan's two assistants carefully lifted the body from the trunk, sealed it in a body bag, and transferred it to the van. They repeated the same procedure with the body in the front seat.

Bryan turned to Brody before he got into the van. "It's a slow week, so I can do the autopsy tomorrow morning at nine. Will you and Cam be there?"

"Wouldn't miss it," said Cam; Brody just nodded.

Brody glanced at Cam and wished he shared his younger brother's enthusiasm for autopsies. To Cam, the autopsy of a human body was the equivalent of a treasure hunt. Cam always said, "You never know what will be discovered that will lead us to the killer."

Brody knew he was too empathetic to victims and their families, but he did his best to hide it. All he could think about during the autopsy was the loss of another life and the destruction of the lives of those who loved the victim. He and his brothers knew firsthand about the pain of loss caused by violence.

"What are you thinking, bro?" Cam asked.

"Do you realize that prior to the past two years, the last murder in this county was when we lost Mom seventeen years ago? We went fifteen years without a murder, and now we've got four corpses, at least two of which are still Jane Does."

"Brody, you're taking these murders too personally."

"Too personal, my ass. Some sick fuck is using our county, our home, to dump bodies. No one shits in our backyard. This is the place where we grew up, Cam. It's the same place we'll raise our own families someday. We know most of the people who live here on a first-name basis. So yes, I'm taking these murders personally."

"Sorry," said Cam. "You still think the murders are connected?"

"Don't you?"

"I can't be sure until we find some evidence that connects the girls."

"Well, find it, Cam. And find the connection before another one dies."

Cameron headed toward his vehicle and Brody walked the perimeter of the scene again. Something was off. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch, and he couldn't let go of it. He stopped and scanned the area, trying to put himself in the mind of the killer.

The killer shoots the two victims. For some reason, he decides it's not safe to leave or bury the victims where he shot them. Why? Were they shot at his home? His place of work? The killer decides to stuff the girls' bodies into this car. Is it
his
car? If only they could be that lucky. The car was probably stolen.

That's it, Brody realized. The car and how it got to the farmer's property was what was bothering him. How did the murderer get the car to the crime scene and then leave? There had to be a partner or someone who helped him. There were two cars and the partner drove one of them. Were they looking for two killers? Or were they looking for one killer and a second person who was just helping him hide the bodies?

<><><>

Skidding to a stop in the gravel driveway outside his house, he turned off the ignition, yanked out his keys, and pounded his hands against the steering wheel. How could she have been so fucking stupid? She'd set a car on fire to hide the bodies of those two slaves. Really? The idea flew in the face of everything they knew about hiding crimes, yet she did it anyway. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He clenched his hands into fists, his rage burning as white-hot anger fired through his body.

It was all her fault. Erin, his stupid cow of a sister, needed to be punished for her idiocy, and he was just the guy to do it. Getting out of the car, he slammed the door behind him and rushed to the house.

Once inside, he called for her until she entered the kitchen, holding an ice pack to her head.

"What is it?" asked Erin guiltily, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"Are you fucking nuts?" he shouted as he slapped her soundly across the face. "They found the car on fire. They found the bodies!"

She sank to her knees, still avoiding eye contact, and began shaking.

His sister still feared him, and it was a turn-on to note her body trembling. Her fear sent a jolt of lust surging through his body. He wanted to tie her up and beat her with his fists until she was bloody—until she cried for his mercy. Just like Daddy had beaten them long ago.

"Who helped you?"

"No one! I swear. After I started the fire, I hiked through the woods until I got to a county road. I walked home."

"That's ten miles!"

"I know."

"Your little car fire was discovered before it had completely burned the car and the bodies," he snarled in a quiet, menacing tone.

Erin's brown eyes flew to his face. "What does that mean?"

He slammed his fist on the kitchen counter, and hissed, "It means that fool of a sheriff, Brody Chase, and his idiot detective brother, Cameron, might find evidence I don't want them to find, evidence that could lead to us."

She pulled herself to her feet and took a cautious step back in case he lost his temper and struck her again. Pressing against the counter, she said, "It was unavoidable. They tried to escape."

Stepping forward to look more closely at her face, he ran his thumb over bruises now turning purple on her cheeks. Long, red scratches covered her arms and one eye was nearly swollen shut. Brushing away her long bangs from her eyes, he said, "The slaves did this?"

"Yes. I was trying to save time because I had errands to run. After you left for work, I fed them some oatmeal," she began, whining in a high-pitched voice that unnerved him. "They'd been so docile, not trying to escape, so I thought I could put them into the shower together to save time. When I cut the duct tape from the second slave, the first one held me down while the second one beat my head against the basement floor until I lost consciousness."

"How did you prevent them from getting away?"

"When I regained consciousness, I searched the house. When I didn't find them, I went outside. I heard a noise in the barn. They were inside the red Toyota trying to hot wire it to start it. When they saw the gun, they got out of the car and got on their knees."

"Did you have to kill them?" he asked.

"Yes! Bitches! How many times did we tell them what would happen if they tried to escape? If I hadn't shot them, they would have tried to get away again, and what were we going to do if they succeeded the next time?"

He pulled out a kitchen chair for Erin, and sat across from her. "It's done. I'll keep an eye on things."

"What if they find evidence that leads to me?"

"Simple. If I think they're getting close, I'll take out Brody and Cameron Chase. I've wanted to kill those self-righteous sonofabitches for a long time. Hell, if I have to, I'll snuff out the entire sheriff's department."

What he didn't say was that he wouldn't hesitate to wipe his sister from the face of the earth if she ever made a mistake like that again.

"Should we lay low for a while?"

"No way. I've got that thirteen-year-old Indianapolis girl almost groomed. It won't be long until I can get her here for an up-close-and-personal visit. And once I get her in that basement, there's no way out."

<><><>

Bryan was true to his word, and the autopsy of the body found in the trunk of the burning car started promptly at nine o'clock the next morning. Cam was in the room holding a notepad to take notes, but Brody was nowhere in sight.

Around ten-thirty, Brody entered the room and stood near Cam, who gave him a knowing glance that Brody ignored. Obviously, his attempt to hide his disdain for autopsies was not a secret from his brother.

"He started with the body in the trunk first," Cam said.

Bryan turned off his voice recorder and said to Brody, "Here's what I've discovered thus far. Our victim is a female and is five feet one inches tall and weighs one hundred pounds. I estimate she is between eleven and thirteen years old." Noticing the grimace crossing Brody's face, Bryan paused, and continued. "Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head by a single bullet, a nine millimeter that was lodged in the forefront of her brain. Manner of death is homicide."

"So death was immediate?" Brody asked.

"Yes, she didn't suffer, if that's what you're getting at."

"Any idea when the killing occurred?" asked Cameron.

"Yes, I just examined the stomach contents.
After a meal, the stomach empties itself in approximately four to six hours, depending on the type and amount of food ingested. Our victim's stomach contains largely undigested food material that looks like oatmeal. The death likely occurred within an hour or two of the meal, which would make it around five-thirty this morning."

"So that makes time of death about two hours before the farmer discovered the fire at seven-thirty," said Cameron, jotting down the information in his notepad. "So the killer had two hours to get both bodies in the car, clean up the primary crime scene, and drive to where we found the burning car."

Bryan nodded in agreement and said, "One more thing. She's had her appendix removed. That may help you identify her. In addition, we'll enter her DNA in the Missing Persons DNA Database, as well as the FBI's CODIS DNA databases. I'll let you know if we get a match."

While Bryan and his assistants cleaned up to get ready to examine the body found in the back seat of the car, Brody and Cameron headed for the break room for coffee. Cameron got to the coffee pot first, poured some in a styrofoam cup for Brody, and got a cup for himself.

"So why are you here, Brody? We both know how much you hate autopsies. Don't you trust me to get the information to you?"

"If I didn't trust your abilities, I wouldn't have promoted you to lead detective." Brody responded.

"Just checking. Sometimes, I feel you're doing the big brother thing to me like you do to Gabe."

"If our little brother would stay out of trouble and mend his wild ways, I wouldn't have to keep track of him."

"He's twenty-seven-years-old, Brody. He's not the kid you had to parent when Mom was killed."

"Thanks for the reminder. I wish I could say he was a mature twenty-seven-years-old. Partying on a regular basis and bedding half the women in the county doesn't add up to maturity for me."

"Are you still mad at him for dropping out of the police academy?"

"I was at the time." Brody paused, and rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. "I still don't get his refusal to follow the rules. He likes to bend them too much. His going around the law to get results is going to get him into trouble. Now that he's started a private investigation business, it makes me worry that much more about him. I fear the time will come when he gets himself in legal trouble, and I won't be able to bail him out."

"It's not a bad idea to hire him to consult sometimes. Gabe's a genius with computers, and he just got his forensic computer examiner certification. We don't have that expertise on the team since Kent Fillion resigned for more money in the private sector."