Profile of Evil (9 page)

After shaking hands with each man, Carly said to Bryan, "Do you have experience identifying victims through skeletal remains?"

"Not much," replied Bryan. "That's why I have a retired forensic anthropologist on his way here."

"Good to know," Carly said. "If this area is one of your killer's favorite body dumping sites, there is more to find here than the rest of this body's bones."

"What do you mean?" asked Bryan, frowning thoughtfully.

"Serial killers often prefer a particular area for their body dumps. Ted Bundy favored the Taylor Mountain Forest where he dumped many bodies or body parts, especially heads. He'd toss the head fifty feet from the road, or if he was thinking clearly, he'd bury his victims' heads."

"Not liking the visual," said Cameron with a grimace.

Carly continued.
"Gary Ridgeway, the Green River killer, dumped his victims' bodies in wooded areas around the Green River, except for two confirmed and another two suspected victims found in the Portland, Oregon, area."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's very likely there are more bodies buried in shallow graves in these woods."

"Well, if that's true, the deputies and technicians I have searching the woods will find them."

"Are you saying you already have searchers in the woods?"

"Yes, they've been out there about an hour," Cameron replied.

"You've got to call them back," insisted Carly.

"Why?"

"Because when it comes to finding bone fragments and shallow graves, they can accidentally do more harm than good. They need to be briefed by your forensic anthropologist."

Before Cameron could respond, three young men led by a middle-aged man with a shock of white hair and a trim mustache approached the tent. He focused on Bryan, wearing his white lab coat and said, "I'm Ken Harris, the forensic anthropologist you called."

Bryan made introductions and Dr. Harris introduced the three young men with him as Indiana University interns completing field experiences.

"What have you found so far?" asked Dr. Harris.

Bryan pointed to the table behind him, "We have the skull, a rib cage, and what looks like an arm bone."

"I see," Dr. Harris responded as he fingered the bones. "And it looks like you've already started the sieving process. That's good. Do you have search volunteers?"

"Actually," Cameron said. "we sent a group of deputies and CSI technicians into the woods looking for bone fragments an hour ago."

"That's not good," said Dr. Harris. "They cannot be out there searching until I talk to them about what to look for, and what to do if they find something. These woods are your crime scene. Any site of human remains is a crime scene where the potential for evidence is significant. Untrained searchers can unknowingly destroy valuable evidence."

"I'll call them back," Cameron said as he stepped away.

"I apologize," said Brody. "It's just that we've never experienced anything of this magnitude."

Carly stepped forward. "My name is Carly Stone. I'm a former FBI agent who is working as a consultant for the county. I have reason to think we are working with a serial killer. These woods may be his preferred body dump site. When you brief the searchers, please teach them what to look for and what to do if they should find a shallow grave."

"I agree, Ms. Stone. There may certainly be more to find in the woods than just bone fragments. As soon as the searchers return, I will brief them thoroughly. In addition, my interns, who have already been trained in searching for human remains, will join them in the search."

<><><>

In record time, Cameron gathered the searchers. Dr. Harris stood before them.

"You are searching for human bone fragments, but you must keep a sharp eye out for shallow graves. If your killer has dumped one body here, there may be more.

"The wooded area you are searching is a crime scene where the potential for evidence is significant. It is, therefore, critically important that the entire scene, and evidence within it, remain in context. That is, not be moved or tampered with. Respect the entire area you are searching as a crime scene.

"We only have one chance to extract the remains completely and correctly. If you should find anything, do not attempt to remove it yourself. Flag the area and call your supervisor so he can send someone on my team to your site immediately." Dr. Harris paused briefly and drank from his water bottle.

"What are some of the things we should look for?" asked Jason, a deputy in his first year of service.

"You may come upon a large area of disturbance in a search area that may represent where the perpetrator rested or re-adjusted the weight of the body. Alternately, the same disturbance may simply be a result of animal activity. There may be signs of passage leading to a specific area, including human or tire tracks and signs of dragging.

"Ask yourself what is the likely or probable path taken by the perpetrator? Was the body dragged or carried to the scene? Look for evidence of the killer's activities, such as the presence of cigarettes, food wrappers, etc."

"This is my first search for human remains. How will we know if we've found a shallow grave?" asked Tessa, another one of the deputies.

Dr. Harris advised, "Some shallow grave indicators to look for are changes in vegetation, or bare patches in an otherwise plant-filled area.

"You may find a halo of little or no vegetation. Depressions in the soil often indicate a shallow grave. Significant bloating of the body will cause soil to be pushed upwards, and then resettle as the body collapses.

"In older graves, you will find depressions with plant growth."

"Is there anything else they should look for?" asked Cameron.

"Yes," said Dr. Harris. "Look for animal burrowing or signs of digging, especially in relation to ground depressions. Cracking or fissuring of the soil is often present around grave sites.

"In addition, look for maggot trails that leave a wet and dark trail consisting of decompositional fluids. Maggot trails have been seen extending as far as twelve feet from remains. Lastly, look for fly activity."

Cameron took over from there. "Before you go back out, get a couple of bottles of water and some fluorescent yellow flags to mark your findings."

<><><>

The searchers had only been back in the woods thirty minutes, when a deputy signaled he'd found a shallow grave. An hour later, another was found. By nightfall, they'd found three shallow graves, a leg bone, pelvis bones, and the second arm complete with skeletal fingers. On the arm was a stainless steel identification bracelet. They'd found the skeletal remains of thirteen-year-old Kayla Stuart, who had been missing from Attica, Indiana, for three years. Bryan would use dental records to confirm the identification.

Two of the skeletons found in shallow graves were loaded into the coroner van, along with the bones of the partial skeleton the boys had found. A third skeleton was carefully placed in the CSI van, and both vans headed back to the coroner's facility so Dr. Harris and Dr. Pittman could analyze the skeletal remains for identification.

By the time the deputies had loaded up the tables and canopy tents, a media helicopter was circling overhead.

"Just what we need," said Brody with a sigh. "Once this hits the news, this county is going to be spinning with fear and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

Chapter Four

Alison tried desperately to adjust her eyes to the dark. Where was she? What was happening? Naked and shivering, she felt the clammy chill of the air on her skin as it settled into her bones. Where were her clothes?

She tried to rub her aching neck where the man had jabbed her with his stun gun, but remembered the silver duct tape he'd used to bind her wrists and ankles. A sticky strip of it covered her mouth. How many times had he used the stun gun on her? Three? Four? Each time she tried to sit up in the backseat of the car, he poked her again, turning her muscles into Jell-O.

A faint stream of light from the only window in the room and the smell of mold and mildew let her know she was in a basement, like the one her grandmother had in her house. The room was filthy, with old, sagging storage boxes, broken televisions, and ancient furniture. A swath of cobwebs was on nearly every surface, and hanging from pipes running along the ceiling beams. The thought of spiders made her skin crawl. How could she be thinking of her fear of spiders when it was very likely her very existence was threatened?

What had the man done with Mrs. Burns? Surely Anthony would report them missing and have the police look for them.

Sounds gushed in from the floor above her, footsteps walking overhead, voices, and a television. A ticking of metal sounded as a gas furnace kicked on, its flickering flame adding more light to the room. It was then Alison realized she was trapped inside a large wire dog crate, the door secured with a padlock. She'd been locked in a cage from which she might never escape.

Alison caught herself glancing uneasily over her shoulder. A young girl curled in a fetal position lay in the dog cage next to her, barely breathing, her face swollen and streaked with dried blood. Alison's scream, muffled by the duct tape, vibrated through and tore her throat. "No, no, no," her brain repeated, as her blood turned to ice.

<><><>

The light was fading, creating new shadows and dark patches in the trees. One by one the searchers returned to the makeshift camp, calling it a day.

Carly's back, aching from bending over the sieve for hours, throbbed in protest as she straightened and stretched. She glanced at Brody and Cameron, who were giving the searchers instructions for the next day. Brody, his white shirt and jeans coated with a fine layer of dirt, was as filthy as she was. The wind had picked up since they arrived, and a coating of dry grit from the barren field covered her hair, clothes, and skin. Carly craved a long, hot shower and food. She'd been starving since their plane landed hours ago.

She waited for Brody, and then started the trek across the field to the dirt road leading to their vehicle. A hot shower and clean clothes were calling her name. They'd almost reached the sheriff's SUV when one of Carly's feet got tangled with the tree root of a large oak tree. She slammed to the ground with a whoosh as the air burst from her lungs. She felt Brody lifting her, supporting her with a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping his arm and stepping back to look for injuries.

"I'm fine," she assured him, embarrassment flooding through her as she dusted herself off.

"No, you're not; you've got some scratches on your face." With his hand on her elbow, he led her to his vehicle as she struggled to pluck dead leaves out of her hair. Once there, he opened the back and pulled out a large bottle of Purell hand sanitizer and a first aid kit. He scrubbed his hands with the Purell, and handed the bottle to Carly, who did the same.

"Sheriff, there's no need for first aid. What I need is a hot shower with plenty of soap."

"Nonsense. Your face is covered with dirt. I can't have my consultant getting an infection," he said with a grin.

Brody unrolled some gauze and dampened it with a squirt from his bottle of water. He lifted her chin as he gently cleaned a couple of scratches on her cheekbone with the wet gauze.

Carly's immediate thought was how wonderful it was to look up at a man for a change. She'd been sensitive about her height since a growth spurt in adolescence when she'd shot up to five feet and ten inches. The nickname the mean kids called her stuck, and she was referred to as "Giraffe" throughout her school years. What was it about the cruel teasing one endured in adolescence that shadowed you the rest of your life?

Brody ripped open an alcohol packet and said, "This is going to sting a bit." His large hand cradled her face and held it gently.

"I'm a big girl. I can take it," she replied. Brody's usual no-nonsense facial features softened as he tenderly dabbed the scratch.

It was positively, absolutely the last thing she should be thinking, but Carly had this overwhelming impulse to kiss him, and not on the cheek. The mere touch of his hand sent a warming shiver through her, her body tingling from the contact.

Once he covered her scratch with Neosporin and a Band-Aid, he dropped his hands and closed the first aid kit. She experienced an odd twinge of disappointment. Carly got into the passenger seat and reminded herself how really, really stupid it would be if she got involved with Sheriff Brody Chase. This was a job, and once it ended, so would her contact with him.

<><><>

Alison jerked out of a restless sleep when she heard creaking from the wooden steps that led into the basement. Someone was coming. Sitting up, she pushed her body to the back of the cage, curling up to hide her nakedness. Trembling, she watched as a light came on when the man yanked on a pull switch. The basement looked even worse in the light. A box filled with ropes, belts, whips, and handcuffs lay in a corner near her cage. Another corner was sectioned off into a small, makeshift room by soiled white sheets. Camera equipment lined a small shelf near the opening.