False Accusations (51 page)

“Forensics? I see some blood spatter on the wall—”

“Castoff, from a shoe, most likely. He kicked her. Looked to me like he kicked her while she was on the floor, then got her up on the bed for the second act of his horror show.” Burden shook his head in disbelief, then continued. “Forensics are still being processed. But from what I’m told, he didn’t leave a whole lot. We came up with fibers, hair, that kind of stuff, but whether any of that belongs to the offender remains to be seen.”

“And this blood. Here,” she said, pointing at the pooled stain on the bed. “If she was lying with her head in the usual spot, this bloodstain would be about where her vagina would be. I know she was raped, but—”

“The scumbag sodomized her, too. With an umbrella. It was brutal. That’s what got me thinking that we were looking at something far more complex than what we’re used to dealing with. That’s why I asked for Safarik.”

“Understood. Not likely a white-collar criminal would be good for this. Unless there was a really bad thing done to him and he snapped and crossed the line. Even then, the anger and ability to become violent would be in his repertoire of behaviors. It’d be there, even if it hadn’t yet manifested in a way we’d have seen publicly.”

“So not our first choice for a theory.”

“Definitely not,” Vail said. She knelt down and examined the area underneath the bed. “Any semen?

“Looks like he used a condom. ME found spermicide.”

“Tell me more. Cause of death? She didn’t die of rape.”

Burden bit his lower lip. “ME thinks she was tortured before she was killed.”

“Tortured how?”

Burden turned away. “Electric shocks.”

“Like a stun gun or a Taser-type device?”

“ME said no. More irregular, like nothing she’d ever seen before. She said she’d read about a case in a rural town in the Midwest where some guy had taken an electrical cord and snipped off the end, then splayed apart the exposed wires. He shoved the plug into a wall outlet and then shocked the vic. And those burn patterns matched the burn marks on Mrs. Anderson’s body. Electrical burn marks.”

“I’ll want to see the body.”

“Figured you might. But I thought you should see the crime scene first, so I told the ME we’d be by around eleven.”

Vail pointed at the bed. “This is where you found her? Facing the doorway?”

“Yeah. Like she was peacefully at rest. Even though, well, she wasn’t.” He shook his head. “Legs were spread. Like I said, he used an umbrella. Lots of vaginal and anal tearing, all the way up into the abdominal cavity.”

“Bodily fluids? DNA?”

“Working it up.” He nodded at a spot on the carpet. “There were four deep impressions at the far side of the bed, near the window. And drag marks leading away.”

“A chair? Someone was watching?”

“My partner’s guess?
Forced
to watch.”

“The husband.”

“Possibly,” Burden said. “Assuming he’s not the killer.”

Vail nodded thoughtfully. After a long moment, she said, “Okay.”

“So COD, to answer your question. Multiple. Heart attack, probably from the shocks she sustained. But there was also substantial head trauma. Like I said, she was kicked. Repeatedly. Hard. And there was some cutting on the body, but not deep.”

“I’ll want to see your photos.”

“Being printed this morning. My partner’s putting together a packet for you full of what we’ve got so far.”

Vail stepped over to the window and peered out, taking in not the scenery but whatever was there to see. Routes of escape, views that passersby might have had. What the neighborhood looked like from this vantage point.

“How long have they lived here?”

Burden pulled a notepad from his interior sport coat pocket. Flipped a couple pages. “In the neighborhood, twenty-two years. In this place, nineteen.”

“We’ll need a list of all residents in a six-block radius, with ages and occupations of the males. Contact info, too. Flag any with prior violent acts or arrests of any kind.”

“In this neighborhood?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” Burden pulled out an older model BlackBerry and began typing. “I’ll have my partner start on it. It’ll take a while to get that together.”

Vail turned away from the window. “What can you tell me about Mrs. Anderson?”

Burden shrugged. “People liked her. She had her circle of friends, many for a couple decades or so. But she wasn’t overly social.”

“Let’s check into the Andersons’ finances...were they involved in any shady deals? Were they the subject of a scam? Were they involved in any failed business or real estate partnerships that might’ve gone south?”

Burden began typing again. “Don’t know. Nothing that came up.”

“Ask the neighbors, family members. Let’s be thorough.” Vail crouched down to peer under the bed. “I take it you haven’t had any other elderly female sexual homicides in the region the past few years.”

He pocketed his BlackBerry. “Correct. I checked before calling. I knew we hadn’t had any up till ’06, when Safarik was here for that Violent Crimes conference the BAU put on for us. That’s why I was concerned. Somebody like this, I think he’s gonna hit again. We need to grab him up quickly.”

Vail thought a moment before responding, because she knew her answer was not going to be one that Burden wanted to hear. She decided to withhold her opinion until she had gathered more information and examined the body. “Are any of the lamp cords missing or cut?” Vail asked.

“What?”

“You said it looks like he used an electrical cord to torture Mrs. Anderson. Did anyone check the appliances, lamps, anything with a power cord?”

“I don’t see—”

“Did he bring it with him, or did he use what was here? If he brought it with him, that indicates premeditation. He planned this out. And that typically points to—”

“An organized offender.”

Vail tilted her head back. “Very good. There’s a very recent shift away from using that term and classification system, but I’m impressed.”

“I remember that from Safarik’s session at the conference. But don’t get all excited. A lot of it went in one ear and out the other. Wish we’d recorded it.”

“What, and put me out of a job?”

Burden looked at the night table. “We didn’t check the appliances. Guess we should do that.”

“Guess we should.” Vail and Burden began inspecting every outlet and powered device in the townhouse.

Vail pulled back the nightstand closest to her and peered over its back for an outlet. “Was she naked when you found her?”

Burden yanked the mattress aside to check behind the bed. “Nightgown was pulled up.”

“Over the head?”

Burden thought a second. “No, why?”

“Offenders sometimes cover their victims’ faces with an article of clothing or a pillow. A lot of times they pull up the dress and drape it across the eyes. Think of it like an apology, embarrassment at what they’re doing to an elderly woman. Maybe they don’t want to look at the face they’ve just beaten the hell out of. But if we’re dealing with a psychopath, they don’t feel anything. No remorse, embarrassment, guilt. Nothing.”

“It’s hard to think of these monsters being embarrassed about what they’re doing.”

Vail moved over to the dresser in front of the wall opposite the bed. “Like a lot of the behaviors we see, it’s symbolic. Psychologically, they’re not aware of why they’re doing what they’re doing. It just feels right to them. It gives them a sense of power; it’s sexually gratifying, exciting.”

“Exciting, huh? Man, I just don’t get that.”

“Then congratulations, Burden. You can tell your ex you’re not just a jackass, you’re a normal jackass.”

“Thanks.” He glanced sideways at her. “I think.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Vail was back on task—and headed into the living room to look at the lamps’ electrical cords. “Based on your knowledge of the neighborhood and your discussions with the neighbors, do you think the UNSUB made conscious efforts to avoid detection? That’s Unknown Subject—”

“No shit. I know what an UNSUB is.” Burden grabbed hold of the paisley patterned velour couch and pulled it away from the long living room wall. “To answer your question, I’d say absolutely he did. No one heard anything. No signs of a struggle, no evidence of a forceful breakin.”

“So whatever method he used to gain entry, it was smart—and effective.”

“Judging by the results, it appears so.”

Burden followed an electrical cord along the length of the wall to a clock on the side table. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to build the offender profile.”

“And?”

“And I’ll let you know what I think as soon as I have something intelligent to say.”

“So that could be...never?”

Vail swung to face Burden. “Ooh. Good one. I think I’m gonna like you.” Then she walked into the kitchen where multiple appliances stared back at her. “Any marks on the wrist?”

Burden followed her in and shifted the blender aside. “Restraints were used, if that’s what you’re getting at. Figured it was part of the torture ritual.”

Just torture? More like sexual torture.
But Vail absorbed that fact, and assumption, without comment. After a moment’s thought, she said, “First thoughts here...but it looks like we’re looking for a sexual sadist.”

“So,” Burden said, “that would be the first intelligent thing you’ve said?”

Boy, this guy’s good. He’s definitely got game.
“Yeah,” Vail said. “That’d be it.”

“And you’re saying he’s a sexual sadist because of the torture?”

“Because of the
sexual
torture. The scumbag’s inflicting physical or emotional pain—to elicit a response from the victim. It’s a response he finds sexually gratifying. Now you can have torture without sexual gratification, but a sexual sadist, by definition, has to have a living victim. Make sense?”

Burden’s face was contorted. “So he did this to her while she was alive?” He shivered, as if he had bitten into a lemon rind. “Honestly, none of this shit ‘makes sense’ to me.”

I know how you feel.
“The husband,” Vail said. “You said he’s an attorney. I assume he’s got no criminal record.”

“I’m sure there’s some crude joke here about lawyers, but no, Mr. Anderson’s got a clean sheet. Like I said, we’ve got an APB out on him.”

“I’m trying to eliminate him as a suspect.”

Burden pushed the toaster back in place, then gave a final look around the townhouse. “Looks like all plugs and appliances are intact. Which means he probably brought the electrical cord with him.”

“So,” Vail said, “he’s either killed before or he intends to kill again. He might also be keeping the tool as a reminder, kind of like a trophy. A way for him to relive the murder.”

“I thought a trophy was something of the victim’s, like a lock of hair or a photo.”

“It can be anything,” Vail said. “Something that has psychological significance to the offender that allows him to relive the kill. I’m not saying this electrical cord is a trophy, but it could function for him like one. Or it could be that it’s a tool in his murder kit.”

Burden sat down heavy in a soft overstuffed living room chair while Vail walked over to the bay windows. The fog was lifting a bit. She could now see more of the Golden Gate’s tower.

“You think this UNSUB will kill again?”

Vail watched the fog roll by. It moved swiftly, tumbling and swirling, like time-lapse photography.

“Unless there’s something else you want to see here, we should get over to the morgue.”

She pulled herself away from the window. “Drive me around the neighborhood a bit so I can get a feel for the area.”

“One thing’ll be obvious,” Burden said as he pushed out of the deep chair. “This isn’t the kind of place you’d expect something like this to happen.”

Vail chuckled. “Thing is, Burden, this shit can happen anywhere. Anytime. To anyone.” Vail glanced back at the bedroom. “Even, unfortunately, to old ladies.”

• • •

Read the rest of
Inmate 1577
...available wherever eBooks are sold. For more information on Alan Jacobson’s Karen Vail series, visit
www.KarenVail.com
.

Alan Jacobson has established a reputation as one of the most insightful suspense and thriller writers of our time. His exhaustive research, coupled with years of unprecedented access to law enforcement agencies, including the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit, bring realism and unique characters to his pages. Following are his current, and coming, releases.

False Accusations

Dr. Phillip Madison has everything: wealth, power, and an impeccable reputation. But in the pre-dawn hours of a quiet California suburb, the revered orthopedic surgeon is charged with double homicide—a cold blooded hit-and-run that has left an innocent young couple dead. Blood evidence has brought the police to his door. An eyewitness has placed him at the crime scene...and Madison has no alibi. With his family torn apart, his career forever damaged, no way to prove his innocence and facing life in prison, Madison hires an investigator to find the person who has engineered the case against him.
False Accusations
is a psychological thriller that instantly became a National Bestseller and launched Alan Jacobson’s career, a novel that spurred CNN to call him, “One of the brightest stars in the publishing industry.”
Learn more about
False Accusations
.

The Hunted

How well do you know the one you love? Lauren Chambers’ husband Michael disappears while on a ski trip—but as she searches for him, she discovers Michael’s hidden past involving the FBI, international assassins—and government secrets that some will go to great lengths to keep hidden. As
The Hunted
hurtles toward a conclusion mined with turn-on-a-dime twists, no one is who he appears to be and nothing is as it seems.
The Hunted
introduces the dynamic Department of Defense covert operative Hector DeSantos and FBI Director Douglas Knox, characters who return in
Velocity, Hard Target,
and future Alan Jacobson novels.
Learn more about
The Hunted
.