With Cruel Intent (24 page)

smelling the doorknob and he began to

growl, and then barks, in a low, deep tone

that reverberated in Natalie’s chest.

“Good boy, good boy,” she said,

scratching behind his ears. The dog sat

and waited further instructions, his tail

still going a mile a minute.

“Anything?” the Sheriff inquired,

standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Yeah, lots of hotspots, especially

in the bedroom and here,” she said,

pointing to the table and the sink. “I think

he must have actually used the items that

were washed and placed next to the sink.

Do we have any word from the victim on

any of this?”

The Sheriff pulled the picture from

his pocket. “Nothing from the victim, but

an absolute affirmative from the intruder,“

he said, turning the picture around for the

handler to inspect.

“Okay, well Otis’s hit on the sink

was accurate then. I know for sure that he

entered the woman’s bedroom and must

have sat down or kneeled by the side of

her bed. Other than that it’s pretty obvious

that he was in the living room moving the

furniture and all, but I’m pretty sure that he

didn’t enter any of the other rooms in the

house. Otis didn’t hit on anything other

than the three rooms and the hallway. I

suspect as you said, that he exited the back

door, Otis is really anxious to get out there

and take a look.”

“Go ahead, see where it takes you,

but don’t be a hero, if you need us send for

help. Check your radio with base before

you get too far away,” Angelo instructed,

moving back to the front of the house.

“Hey Breland, you coming with

us?” she hollered from the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah hold your horses, I’ll

be right there,” he yelled back, pulling a

shotgun from the cruiser and walking

quickly to the house.

The trio moved about the backyard

catching another strong sign in the back

corner where they could see the grass was

matted as if someone had sat there. Otis

thoroughly sniffed his way around the

backspace showing particular attention to

a section of the fence where the intruder

had climbed over. Once they managed to

find a way to the other side of the fence,

the group took off at a run, as Otis

bounded along the trail that led to the train

tracks and beyond.

The sound of Otis barking, hot on

the trail, was scarcely audible when the

forensic unit arrived complete with their

on site van. Sheriff Lupo filled the

technicians in on what had been done and

left it to them to scour the house for clues.

He also turned the picture over to the

techs to receive an ID number, and then

tucked it away in his shirt pocket for

further scrutiny back at the office.

Confident that a deputy left at the site,

along with the forensics crew, could

handle anything else that needed to be

done,

the

Sheriff

and

other

law

enforcement officials at the scene returned

to their duties and the Sheriff contacted

Natalie on his radio.

“Officer Guest, Sheriff Lupo here,

where are you and what have you found?”

“We’re

about

half

a

mile

northwest of your location moving through

some fields that lie between some of the

neighborhoods over here. It looks like he

didn’t take a straight line back to his

vehicle but he definitely avoided any

lighted areas and did not come close to

any other houses. Kept to the tracks, then

fields, at some point he’s got to hit the

blacktop, but not yet. We’ll keep you

posted,” the officer said, trying to both run

with Otis and talk into her shoulder

microphone at the same time.

“You do that, if nothing turns up

return to the office and issue a verbal

report for me before you do your written,”

he instructed.

“Affirmative, out,” she responded.

Once the house was processed the

remaining

units

returned

to

their

respective responsibilities and the search

for evidence began in earnest. The Sheriff,

as the head of the department, now had

some difficult decisions to make. The

processing of a crime scene can get

expensive very quickly. Anything sent to

the crime lab had a substantial bill

associated with it, as well as, slowing

down other investigations that may prove

to be more important. On the surface, this

and the previous B&E with Thelma,

seemed harmless really, nothing taken, no

one hurt, no damage to property, just

seemed to be geared at scaring someone,

and not at the time, but after the perp was

safely away. Still something in the back of

his mind told him there was something

more to it than that, especially after

looking at the malevolent picture of the

thief eating his cereal. Weighing his

alternatives he had his secretary call the

press and arrange for a press conference

the next morning, followed by a meeting of

all pertinent officers, tech support,

forensics and others that may have any

impact on the investigation, to bring him

up to speed on the crime. Based on that

information and his gut feeling he would

need to decide if it should be pursued

beyond the normal bounds of a routine

B&E.

The press conference had gone as

well as he had expected, always had to be

at least one reporter that tried to press for

more information than they were willing

to give. “Jackass,” he thought, thinking

back on the exchange. He’d returned to his

office long enough to get a fresh cup of

coffee and allow a few minutes for all

those invited to the investigative review

meeting to make their way to the

conference room. Sitting at his desk, a

notepad resting before him, Angelo

organized his thoughts and jotted down

details he wanted to discuss with the

group. Leaning back in the leather chair,

he looked at the pictures arrayed on the

wall, his father in uniform, medals

decorating his left breast. Another of his

wife and two children taken when they

were much younger, but it still filled his

large chest with pride when he recognized

how blessed he had been. He understood

that nothing was more important than

family and he took his oath to protect all

families within his jurisdiction as a sacred

covenant. Once he was confident that

everyone was assembled, he checked to

make sure the picture taken from the

Criddle home was in his shirt pocket,

picked up his coffee mug, the notepad, and

headed to the meeting.

Entering the room, a respectful

silence replaced what was, a few

moments ago, a circus atmosphere.

Approximately 20 people were scattered

around the long table that extended down

the center of the room. Most stood, but a

few were seated around the table, pens at

the ready. Some were easily recognizable

as troopers, uniforms with hats, but many

were dressed much more casual, the

support staff and forensics people. This

was his extended family, the men and

women that he loved to serve with, he

knew within his heart that he would take a

bullet for any of them, and they for him, if

circumstances dictated. The Sheriff’s

Department was a close knit, cohesive

unit that had fused together as one over the

past 10 years of his leadership, they knew

he expected the best from each of them

and wouldn’t tolerate bullshit of any kind.

He both demanded and gave respect and

praise when it was worthy. The members

of the department anxiously awaited his

direction.

“Thank ya’ll for coming,” he

began. “We are going to take some time

today to review both the cases that have

fallen into our laps over the past couple of

weeks involving these single ladies,” he

said, pointing to the pictures of Thelma

Riddle and Katherine Criddle that were

thumb tacked up on a rollaway display.

“I’d like to begin with what I know you

are all thinking, Riddle and Criddle. Is

this a joke or a random occurrence? Is he

selecting his victims based on some

strange last name comparison? You’ll note

I said individual rather than group, I

believe this to be the work of one man

based on the evidence that I’ve seen.

Anyone think otherwise?” he asked the

group. No one offered an alternative

theory. “Good, so back to the names, any

thoughts?”

“Sheriff, we did some checking

yesterday afternoon on the backgrounds of

both of the victims. There is absolutely

nothing that links them. They don’t know

each other, never met, don’t attend the

same church, don’t shop at the same

stores, have different circle of friends.

There was nothing we could find, at least

to date, other than the fact that they live

within a few miles of each other and that

could just be random as well,” one of the

investigators offered.

“Good. I’ve done some thinking on

this myself and I think we need to consider

a couple more things. Both women were

single, had no steady boyfriends, no

children, no pets, owned their own homes,

we shouldn’t overlook the obvious just

because they didn’t know one another.

Does anyone else have any ideas on how

he selected these two women? Did he just

go to the phonebook and randomly pick

these locations or did he pick the women

first?” the Sheriff stood, waiting for a

reply.

An answer came by way of the

smallest person present, “I believe he

must have a criteria that he’s sticking to.

First, he picks a house based on the entry.

Is it dark and secluded, does it have fairly

easy access from the back without any

other homes close by? Then once that

satisfies him he does his homework on the

victim. For what he wants to do he has to

have lots of time, doesn’t want to be

interrupted. I mean, for God’s sake, he sat

down and ate a bowl of cereal in the

woman’s kitchen while she slept in the

next room. So no kids, no pets, no

boyfriends, no unexpected surprises, no

pesky neighbors and he’s smart, real

smart. He knows dogs too. He ran us

around in circles for the better part of two

hours yesterday trying to get old Otis to

lose his scent, and he finally succeeded,

but we estimate that he parked the car

within a three-mile radius, probably in an

alley somewhere. We have plans to go do

some interviews this afternoon with some

of the late night establishments in that

northwest quadrant. If that’s okay with you

Sheriff?" Officer Guest requested.

He liked her eagerness. “Yup, do

what ya gotta do. I think, Natalie here, is

right. The only way I see the two names as

a common denominator is, if in fact, these

are total pranks done by somebody with a

sick sense of humor. I’d like the public to

believe that for now. But as far as we are

concerned we are going to move ahead

with the assumption that there is something

more sinister at work here. Officer Guest

mentioned the photo, has everyone seen

it?” Several of the officers indicated that

they had not, so Angelo passed it around.

“Much like the first photo, same camera

it’s been confirmed, less of his face

visible this time around, but the portion

showing is much more detailed due to the

better lighting. He was careful to

demonstrate for us what he was up to. I

expect that’s some power trip or some

kind of a taunt directed at us. Note the

black face paint, possible ex-military or

survivalist, somebody check that angle.