Ties That Bind, Page 2

  It was after she'd given her initial thoughts for the third time to Agent Washington, that he'd followed her to the van and advised her she was wasting her talents in the medical examiner's office. That she would do more good and have more than her share of excitement if she were to work for the FBI. He'd promised her that her dual Masters in Criminology and Psychology would be the tools she'd use to make a name for herself among the elite. His prediction of her future had in deed come true, but it'd come with a cost to both her professional and personal life.

  Jo got out of the Jeep and waited for Sheriff Garrett to take the lead. They approached a clearing in the trees and he paused to lift the yellow crime scene tape so she could duck underneath first.

  "Well if it ain't the FBI," a familiar voice from her past called out. She turned to find a heavyset man climbing the steep incline.

  Slim Perkins hardly looked a day older than when she last saw him ten years ago. Still toting a full head of salt and pepper hair and carrying an extra sixty pounds, he was a welcomed sight. "Hey Slim," she greeted him with a kiss to his cheek, rubbing his stomach at the same time. "I see the Mrs. hasn't cut back any on the coconut cream pies," she teased.

  "She does, that'll be the day I divorce her." He gave her a bear hug, almost lifting her from the ground. "It's good to see you, Jo. We sure have missed you around the office. Wasn't the same after you took off."

  She smiled as she stepped out of his arms. "How have you been Slim?"

  "Great, thanks to the sheriff here. He took pity on me and Walt and let us stick around after your pop died."

  "Nonsense. If it wasn't for you two, I'd have packed my bags and skipped town that first week," Sheriff Garrett said, adding a soft smile. "I don't know what I'd do without them."

  "Aw I keep telling you, you're doing a fine job. It's just going to take time for people to warm up to you."

  "In other words, you have your work cut out for you," Jo teased.

  "I thought I recognized that voice."

  Jo looked back as another familiar face approached from the area below. She watched in amusement as Walt Sumner dropped his cigarette butt and stepped on it. "I hope you're not contaminating the crime scene with that nasty habit of yours."

  "If that don't beat all, you send the girl off to FBI school and she comes back telling you how to do your job." He leaned forward to brush a kiss across her cheek. "Hey, sweetie. Sure is good to see you."

  "You too, Walt." She watched as he joined his best friend. Half his weight and a good three inches taller than Slim, they looked like a modern day, Laurel and Hardy.

  "Is the M.E. still here?" Sheriff Garrett asked of the two men.

  "He's just finishing up," Slim answered.

  Jo turned to the sheriff. "Same M.O. as the others?"

  "Yeah. A couple of hikers found her and called it in."

  "Judging from the locations, and the fact he's staging the bodies, your perp knows the area well or scouts the dump site in advance."

  "Would you listen to our little girl," Slim said to Walt.

  "Doesn't she make you proud?"

  Jo fought the urge to laugh. "Shut up, you two." When she turned back to Sheriff Garrett, she found he, too, was smiling.

  "You were saying," the sheriff prompted.

  "Never mind, I've lost my train of thought," she confessed and the four of them joined in laughter.

  "How long you planning on staying in town, Jo?" Slim asked.

  "It depends. I can't establish a psychological profile without the victim's backgrounds or an actual crime scene."

  "No, I suppose not. Hopefully, we'll have something for you to work with by the end of the week," Slim said.

  "You staying at your mom's?" Walt inquired with a curious glance.

  She shifted nervously. Though she'd expected the questions, she hadn't prepared herself for them. "No. I've got a room at the Motel 6."

  "I saw Bill Jr. at Bertha's the other day," Walt said. "Mariah's due in a couple of months. She sure is going to have her hands full. Brice is barely out of diapers, isn't he?"

  "I'm not sure. It's been a while since I talked to Billy." Then turning to the sheriff, she continued, "If you guys will excuse me, I'm going down and have a look at the body."

  "Cartwright's been expecting you," Slim advised.

  "Brad's here?" she asked with more alarm than she intended. Her family seemed the only ones missing from her past, she thought cynically, and God help her, if they showed up next, she'd pull her gun out and shoot herself.

  "He's the Chief Medical Examiner now," Walt said.

  "You know Brad, too?" Sheriff Garrett asked. Then as if an afterthought, he added, "Of course you do. Your dad was the sheriff."

  "That isn't how she met Brad," Slim teased.

  She felt her cheeks grow warm as Sheriff Garrett turned with a lazy grin, "Oh yeah…and how did Special Agent McDaniels come to know our prestigious medical examiner?"

  "I was an investigator with the M.E.'s office in Portland prior to joining the bureau," she told him before Walt and Slim had a chance to elaborate on her relationship with Brad Cartwright.

  "So you and Brad were co-workers?"

  "That, among other things," Walt teased.

  "I'm out of here. You guys behave yourselves," she warned, leaving them to their gossip.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jo made her way down the steep incline and spotted a young blond-headed man. As he stepped to one side, Jo's anxiety increased at the sight of her old boyfriend bent over the latest victim. His once jet-black hair was now gray along his temples, a sign of the long hard hours spent in the examining rooms of the Medical Examiner's Office. The fact that he was now Chief Examiner came as little surprise; he'd always been very dedicated to the field of forensic pathology.

  Jo paused in her approach as memories of a past love played in her mind. It hadn't been that long ago she'd thought of him when she'd run into an old classmate and learned of his mother's death. At one time they'd been very close and had even spoken of marriage. Both aspiring young students to the world of forensic investigation, common interests and the desire to solve mysteries that lay hidden within the human body, had brought them together. Though they both majored in Criminology, she preferred Psychology to Forensic Medicine. Together, they'd been Oregon's State Medical Examiner's Office bright new stars, she as an investigator and he as a medical examiner.

  It wasn't until Portland's first serial killer climbed out of the gutters of the earth to prey on young children that Jo's thirst for knowledge broadened. Intrigued by the small clues the perpetrator would leave with the victim, she found herself compelled to fit the pieces together.

  With her heart broken by the savage nature of his crimes, she had taken her first of many journeys into the dark mind of a madman.

  "If you aren't a sight for sore eyes."

  Her thoughts shattered, "Hi, Brad," she said, careful not to show too much enthusiasm.

  He quickly closed the distance between them to give her a brief hug. "Hi, Jo. Hey, word has it you've made quite a name for yourself in the FBI."

  "It seems I'm not the only one climbing the success ladder. Congratulations on your promotion."

  "Thank you."

  Jo stepped out of his arms and peered down at the decapitated figure lying half-covered with a white sheet.

  "It's not a pretty sight," Brad said as he knelt to cover the headless corpse.

  Murder was disturbing enough, but it was what the killer did with the bodies afterwards that bothered her the most. The preparation and staging of the victims, like they were trophies on a mantle in the darkness of his evil mind, always surprised her. She had interviewed dozens of serial murders and no two were alike. Sure there were always similarities, but each had their own unique and disturbing signature.

  "I've seen some pretty gruesome crimes in my years with the M.E.'s office, but this—"

  "I know. It's hard to imagine another human being capable of such a horrific act."
>
  "I'm glad you're here, Jo. I think the sheriff could use your help."

  "I'm afraid there isn't much I can do till we learn the identities of the victims."

  "You've read the case files, surely you have some opinion. After all, you've dealt with hundreds of cases involving serial killers."

  "I'm a profiler, Brad, not a magician. I deal in facts, and until I have some idea as to who these women are, what their backgrounds were, I'm as powerless as the rest of you."

  "Well is there anything I can do to help?"

  "You could answer a question for me. According to the autopsy reports on the first three bodies, there was no trace evidence. Since they weren't found in or near water, could they have been bathed?"

  "The sheriff thinks so, and I tend to agree."

  "Okay. Do you mind if I have a few minutes with her?"

  "Sure. I'll leave Ted here with you." He turned to his young assistant. "Give her some space."

  "Oh, Brad," she called out to him and waited for him to turn before offering a sympathetic smile, "I was sorry to hear about your mother's death. Had she been ill long?"

  "A couple of years. Breast cancer. She never gave up, though, worked till a month before she died."

  Jo watched as he turned and walked up the hill. She thought of her own mother, whom she hadn't spoken to in two years, and wondered if reconciliation was possible. She hated the thought of going through the rest of her life without some sort of contact.

  She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her jacket pocket and snapped them on, then kneeling next to the body, began her introduction. "The name's Jo, and we're going to help one another catch the monster that did this to you." Jo peeled back the sheet and examined the base of the neck where the head had been severed. The cut was smooth, leading Jo to believe that a sharp instrument was used. 'But, if she's like the others, that isn't what killed her.' According to the autopsy reports on the other victims, strangulation had been the cause of death. Why take the head, though? For a trophy? To hinder them from identifying the victim, or both? The likelihood that the bodies had been cleaned, to eliminate hair and fiber he may have left behind, meant the killer was probably familiar with police procedure or watched a lot of CSI, she mused. And since all the bodies had been placed in wooded areas frequented by hunters and hikers, she assumed the killer wanted the bodies to be found quickly either out of remorse or pride.

  She then took the victim's hand, quick to notice the blue discoloration in her fingertips, a clear sign of lack of oxygen and a good indication that she was strangled like the others. As she moved to lower the hand, Jo's heart started to race and an image formed in her mind. The room was dimly lit and the smell of mildew lingered in the air. She immediately felt something tighten around her neck, shutting off her air supply. She attempted to raise her hands to ward off her attacker, but her limbs were like lead, she couldn't feel or move them. Her heart pounding in her chest, she knew death was just around the corner.

  Letting go of the hand and sucking in air, Jo glanced up to see the young M.E. assistant watching her.

  He seemed about to speak when he quickly averted his eyes to the surrounding woods. She followed his gaze and spotted the sheriff standing in the grove of trees. Smiling, she lowered her gaze back to the body and continued her external examination.

  *****

  Austin watched as the beautiful young agent examined the body. He waited for her to flinch or to show some facial reaction to the horrific sight, but none came. How could she not be affected by what she saw? More than half a dozen men so far had lost a meal at one time or another over the course of the last two weeks, including him, yet she knelt there, her eyes fixed on the body as if it were someone merely sleeping.

  Curious as to what she found so fascinating, he crept further down the incline, using the cover of the trees to obscure his location. Judging from the puzzled expression on the face of the M.E.'s assistant, he seemed just as intrigued by the woman's behavior as he stood quietly to one side, his eyes leveled on her.

  After several seconds, the agent leaned over the body and appeared to be checking the ankles for any signs of ligature marks. Had she asked, he could have told her there weren't any on either the ankles or the wrists. Decapitation was the only visible sign of injury on all of the victims. He watched as she moved to the feet and toes, taking note of how careful she was not to touch the body. Not that it mattered. He suspected, like the others, the body would reveal no trace evidence or fingerprints that would lead them to the killer.

  "Sheriff, could I see you a minute?" Jo asked.

  He stepped out into the open just as she turned, still squatting next to the body. "Find something?"

  "Actually, it's something you'd already found." She carefully lifted the woman's hand. "The fingernails. You mentioned in your report that you suspected they'd been clipped to eliminate trace evidence."

  "Yeah. So?"

  "So what if he did it so as to obscure their identities as well?"

  "How's getting rid of their nails going to hinder the identity process?"

  "Not so much their physical identity, but the lifestyle they led." She held the victims hand so that he could view the tips of the fingers. "When I first reviewed the file you sent, I suspected these women were prostitutes and that's why they hadn't been reported missing. But what if they're not? Notice how the cuticles are trimmed but the polish has been removed. This woman has had regular manicures."

  "If these women are likely to be missed, then why haven't they been reported missing?"

  "I've been giving that some thought." Jo carefully replaced the woman's hand. She then turned, her elbows resting on her knees, and gazed up at him, "What if they aren't missing yet?"

  "A vacation or a business trip?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "Could be."

  He grinned. "Thanks, Jo." The corners of her mouth came up, as did one eyebrow, and he realized what he'd just done. "Or would you rather I call you Special Agent McDaniels? I'd hate to get my butt kicked by a girl."

  The smile that followed was like a ray of sunshine after a day's downpour. "Jo is fine." Then just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, as her gaze returned to the headless corpse.

  Excited by the new lead, he went to join his colleagues.

  *****

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the victim, Jo stared at the headless shoulders and tried to picture in her mind what the woman might look like as a whole person. Judging from the fair complexion of her skin and the light hair covering her arms and pubic area, she was a blonde, similar to Jo's height of five-eight. Taking into account the size of the woman's calves and the firmness of her stomach and thighs, she worked out frequently or visited a gym several times a week. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning. She'd know more once the victims were identified.

  Jo wished she could use her psychic ability to give the woman a face, but that wasn't the way it worked. During a vision, she could only sense and feel what the victims felt prior to death.

  Jo took the sheet and covered her. "We'll catch him," she spoke softly; a promise made to the victim as well as to herself. Then rising from her stance her eyes landed on the puzzled expression of the M.E.'s assistant. "Thank you, Ted," she said with a smile.

  She then searched the area for Brad and spotted him talking with Slim and Sheriff Garrett. As the three of them turned and met her gaze she found herself praying they were discussing the crime, and not her misguided past.

  "Excuse me, Agent McDaniels?"

  She turned to the young blond who looked to be in his mid-twenties, "Yes?"

  "How did you become so comfortable around death?"

  His question prompted not only a smile but also a memory from her past. From a time when she'd stood and watched a well-weathered federal agent examine the body of a young boy. She offered the same advice she'd been given. "One never becomes comfortable around death, the best you can do is keep reminding yourself that there are far worse things in life
than death."

  The young man's eyes shifted toward the body and he nodded as if he understood.

  Jo made her way back up the hill and found three sets of eyes still fixed on her. "I hope you haven't been spreading nasty rumors of my rebellious youth," she greeted the men.

  "I reminded them you were carrying a gun so you can rest assured your integrity is still intact."

  "Thank you, Sheriff." She turned to Brad. "Would you mind if I stood in on the autopsy? There are a couple of things I'd like to confirm."

  "I don't mind. It'll be just like old times. You want to ride with me and I'll drop you off at your mom's afterward?"

  "No thanks, I have a rental at the sheriff's office. Providing it hasn't been towed off yet," she said, now regretting her earlier choice of a parking spot.

  "I'll meet you at the funeral home in a half hour then. Afterwards, I'll transport the body to Portland for storage until she is identified."

  "Sounds good," she replied and turned to follow the sheriff.

  "Hey, Jo, how about we all get together this weekend for a cookout?" Slim called out after them.

  She paused, turning back to him. "Your famous barbecue ribs?"

  "Well of course. I'll even toss on a couple of burgers for Austin. He isn't much on my barbecue."

  "Sounds good to me," she accepted then turned to the sheriff.

  "Mind if I bring my daughter along?" Austin asked.

  "The more, the merrier. How about you, Brad, you think you can get away from that morgue of yours long enough for some R&R?"

  "I'd love to Slim, but I have a conference in Seattle this weekend. Maybe next time."

  *****

  "I'm having Pendergrass phone all the airlines and bus stations in the state for lists of all females traveling alone on the dates corresponding with the murders," Austin told Jo shortly into their trip back to the station.