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bulldog080808 -> Jake Chapter Six (2/7/2010 6:35:14 AM)
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Walking up to the group of officers huddled together in the tree line, Tory knew it was bad by the sober looks on their faces. He could see that the white sheet covering the body had stained through. Glancing around the crime scene he saw several of the local cops hanging over by one of their own; “probably blew his guts,” Tory thought.
His thoughts went back five weeks earlier to the last scene he had visited. Same type; woods dense enough to hide anything just feet behind the tree line, the road isolated from general traffic but easily accessible to the interstate via a county road. He brought his attention back to the white veil cotton sheet police were issued just for times like this. Every patrol car had one and every officer prayed they never ever had to open the sealed plastic bag.
At the last one he didn’t think it could get worse. He was soon to find that thought to be wrong.
Tory looked down on the white sheet that covered the body. He didn’t have to remove it to know it was going to be bad. Blood had seep into the fibers around the face and breast area and if it was like the last one, they’ll find her vagina was traumatized too. But the excess blood around the face worried him. He looked over to George.
“Had a peek yet?” He asked his partner directly.
“Yea boss, it’s bad.”
Tory remembered passing a small rest area leading to the scene, a few patrol cars block the entrance and exits.
“Any witnesses? Isn’t that rest area watched by security twenty-four seven?”
“Yea, but the guard finally admitted he was sleeping.”
“Well now, I suppose tomorrow he’ll be looking for work, huh?” Tory snorted.
“Where’s the Doc?” he added.
“On his way,” George replied.
The foursome had back away from the body as Tory bent down and removed the sheet enough to see her entire body and position.
“Figured out why he does that George?” Tory was pointing to the chewed up nipples of the young lady, “Damn, she was pretty.”
Each victim had the same torture preformed on them. It didn’t past Tory to see the beauty that once was; now her own mother would barely recognize her.
He didn’t quite know what to make of it until his mind put the pieces into place. He saw immediately the added feature. The girls face had been peeled off and even though he was looking at her from above her head, her face was looking back at him, eye less. Her face was upside down.
He slowly re-covered her and stood up without looking away.
“This fucker is sick.”
“Yea boss, totally.”
Normally he hated the nuances,’ but totally, seemed to describe it well this time.
“Any I.D.?” he asked, not to anyone in particular but to the group as he looked into each of their faces.
George, his partner, spoke first.
“Yup, just like the rest. All her personal belongings were found near-by.”
Tory looked back up at George as if the five year agent of the FBI was just out of the academy.
“Well, George… if all her things are here,” now he was waving his arm to stress the point he was about to make, “we won’t find them on him, will we?” Neither the sarcasms nor his frustration of not finding his freak stayed buried.
“Maybe he wants us to know who she is.” George offered his own idea, hoping to regain something he felt he had just lost.
“Could be that too,” Tory replied almost dismissively as he bent down close to study her body and the upside down face. This development was the extra added feature each victim seems to give them.
There was the same evidence of abuse on her as the ME had found on the others. Bite marks covered her, some even old enough to have scared over. The nipples looked to have been chewed on repeatedly as their normality was gone. Bruises covered her whole body as if a thin rod of some sort had left no part of her untouched or unmarked. Her body looked to have been cleaned with bleach or other household products to remove trace elements. And then he saw the calling card. It was a small tattoo on her labia majora; a blue rose blossom the size of a dime. The killer was likely a tattooist. The computers at Langley were compiling a list of every tattooist registered to any health organization or whoever ran an ad in any local paper or magazine for the past fifty years.
Tory wasn’t sure if the missing pubic hair was a token or if the killer was trying to clean away trace evidence. Trace forensics had been able to identify the soap and shampoo on the other bodies, which turned out that they were a common variety sold in most department stores; no help there except for the DA, who would use the products at trial to help their case. But, that was only going to help put him away, not find him.
The case profiler thought the killer might leave the belongings for them to find as so the victims families might have closure on their loss. They added that to their search parameters as the killer might know someone who disappeared and was never heard from again. Either, a victim of crime or perhaps he himself was abandon as a child.
Tory knew that most serial killers take something as a keepsake, to help them remember the event or their doings; as if these animals could possible forget anyway. He knew serial killers couldn’t help it. They just had to have something. The trouble was making the connection early on. In this day and age pictures seem to be the idea possessions.
Many a time during the interview process, when an agent would bring up a special detail that only the killer might have knowledge of, you could actually see the recognition in their reaction or body movement. As if they were suddenly transported back in time to the exact moment of death. Their minds transporting them back to the act itself.
But this guy hasn’t taken jewelry or a piece of clothing that they could find out. Not a lock of hair cut away or a personal item missing, according to the families. Even all the body parts were still accounted for. No, this guy was very meticulous and precise in his procedures. The only common thread between the victims; each one was missing their pubic hair. Size, color of hair, race, age, money, work; nothing matched. They had victims ranging from housewife to professional occupations to prostitution. The medical examiner stated that as so far as he could tell, they were shaved repeatedly during their captivity and it appeared even after death, one last clean shave to go. But, the underarm hair was left to grow.
“Hey Jake, you see the news. We finally made the top story. They won’t stop talking about it.”
“Yea, so? You want to give an interview dick-head? I know, why don’t you call them, I’m sure they’re anxious to hear from you.”
“Not yet,” He mused.
“Not ever, you puss. Remember that, never! If I thought for a moment you just might, I will blow your brains out. It might do you good to remember our deal, dick-wad.”
“How come they haven’t mentioned the face? I thought for sure that would be on the news.”
Laughing he pictured how someone might react. To see a body laying there and when you walked up, there she was staring back at ya upside down. Nightmares for a life-time, that’s for sure.
Both Jake and he laughed over that idea. It had taken extra time but the security guard had been asleep, so it worked out.
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