Authors: Dennis Larsen
Any more thoughts on how or why he’s
choosing these victims?” No one spoke
up.
“Okay let’s move on. We heard
from Ms. Criddle this morning and she
confirmed there was nothing missing from
the home and nothing in her bedroom
appeared to be moved and no underwear
tampered with. This is different from the
first. You will recall that he actually put
her intimates on and took the picture with
the victim in the adjacent bed. This
changed with Katherine, however, we
know that he entered the victim's bedroom
here, as well, due to the dog evidence.
Why risk that, if it’s not to deliver the
same shock value as he did with the first
event?” again the Sheriff looked about for
any takers on the question.
A senior deputy with a graying
handlebar mustache and thick sideburns
offered a thought, “It’s a power trip right?
Perhaps he likes to feel like he can do
whatever he wants to while in their homes
but doesn’t have the balls to carry it any
further, other than just being there, seeing
them and taking these pictures.” As an
afterthought he continued, “Hell, maybe
that’s what he was doing by the side of her
bed, maybe he was taking more pictures.”
Proud of what he’d contributed, he
reached up, stroked the mustache and
smiled at his associates.
“That’s a good thought,” Natalie
said, giving the mustached deputy thumbs
up. “Why go to all this trouble without
some sort of trophy? He doesn’t take
anything, maybe that’s because what he
takes he’s already brought with him.”
“I’m apt to agree with both of
these officers,” 'The Wolf' declared
retrieving the picture after it had made the
rounds. “He certainly won’t be having
these developed in the local Fotomart or
online, so he must have a color printer and
computer that will do the work for him.
Breland, will you do some checking today
with the computer suppliers in town and
see if anyone has recently purchased what
they’d need to make this happen?
Something concerns me with what my
buddy at the back said there a minute ago.
He said, ‘he doesn’t have the courage to
carry it any further’, that’s what really
bothers me about this case. If he’s a serial,
and I believe our perp is, we have to
assume that his behavior will escalate. It’s
just a matter of how fast, where, when,
and in what magnitude. When you can
answer these questions for me I’d like to
talk with you all further.”
The meeting lasted another 90
minutes with ideas and suggestions
bantered about. The forensics people had
not had much time yet to review what they
had, but they were able to collect a
number of fiber samples from the site that
looked like they didn’t belong there. There
were no prints, other than those of Katie,
and the dishes had been washed clean.
They were able to determine that he had
used some kind of plastic sheets to move
the furniture, as small trace samples had
been pressed into the carpet, but the sheets
themselves must have been brought and
taken by the perpetrator. They agreed with
Officer Guest, he was bright and knew
what he was doing, very little evidence
and he’d done this before and not just
once but many times. Too slick and too
well practiced to do what he was able to
do without the owner having a clue.
“Okay, let’s wrap this up ladies
and gentlemen; we’ve got lots to work on.
I want you to focus on a few things that
we’ve highlighted today. First, we need to
figure out how he’s getting access without
any signs of forced entry. Both victims
think they locked their doors, but this is
Georgia so we can’t be sure, but let’s
assume that they did, so he’s getting keys
somewhere. Maybe he works at a
hardware store and is making duplicates
or something. Breland or Arnold, check
with the victims to see if either one has
had new keys made in the past year.
Secondly, I want to know this psycho’s
agenda, any ideas I want them brought to
me right away. Now people we have more
than this case to deal with but I want
everyone to be vigilant and let’s follow
this one through. Does anyone have
anything further before we break for the
day? I’ll be heading this one up myself so
address any issues to myself or Arlene at
the desk.”
A hand shot up at the back, Ricky
Dean, the most senior of the forensic
department stepped forward, making it
easier to address the large man. Ricky
was not a big man himself, only about five
and a half feet tall, receding hairline, full
mustache but in excellent shape for being
almost 60. He was one of those guys that
knew a little bit about everything and
could fix anything he put his mind to.
Whenever anything broke down at the
Sheriff’s Office, Rick was the first one
called, whether auto, equipment, or guns,
he could fix it all.
“Sheriff, I was a thinking, ever
since I stepped into that living room that I
had seen something like that before, you
know like a copycat. It ate at me most of
the night and I asked my sweetheart about
it and she pegged it right away, The
Manson Family out there in California
‘bout 40 years ago. You remember, the
Helter Skelter stuff, they made a movie
and there was a book I believe. Anyway,
after they killed those people they wrote
stuff on the walls in their blood. Now
that’s not that strange, we’ve seen that
even here in Valdosta, but the thing that
put it together for me was the furniture.
Something about that bugged me, so I got
online today and did some research and
they did that too. The Manson Family used
to go out at night and break into people’s
homes and move their furniture around,
not for any other reason than to just freak
them out when they woke up. Just like our
perp is doing here, don’t you think? They
called it ‘Creepy Crawling’, kind of gives
me the creeps just thinking about it,” Rick
explained before moving to the back of the
room and out of the limelight.
“Good work, Rick. Will you
further that idea of the ‘Creepy Crawling’
and see if there is anything more we need
to know about that and any connection we
might have to this Manson Family? I’m not
aware of any followers living here but
let’s be sure. Okay people look sharp;
let’s get ‘er done,” the Sheriff concluded,
returning to his office, picking up a fresh
cup of coffee on the way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mr. Marcus greeted Blanche the
morning after her conversation with Holly,
as he raked up some leaves, scattered
about on the grass in the front of the
library, “How’s my girl this mornin’?” He
stood the rake up next to himself using it
as a brace to support his weight while he
talked with Blanche, the handle nearly as
tall as the small grounds keeper.
“I’m good, really good, thanks for
asking. Looks like another beautiful day in
store for us. You got lots to do outside
today I hope?” her polite nature coming
through with her inquiry.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find enough to
keep me busy out here until it rains this
afternoon, then I’ll move indoors to pester
you for awhile,” he said, smiling broadly.
“Sounds good to me. We should
have lunch together; did your wife fix you
something?”
“Yes sirree. It’s a date then, I’ll
swing by the desk around noon,” Marcus
indicated, putting the rake back to the
ground.
“Nothing like a lunch with my
favorite man,” she joked, as she bounded
up the stairs to the main doors. “See you
then. Have a good morning.”
Mrs. Anderson met her at the main
desk, date stamp in hand, anxiously
engaged in organizing the materials in
front of her. “Blanche, good morning, you
look lovely this morning, thank you for
toning down the ah, headlights.” Referring
to her bust and the outfit she’d worn the
other day that had garnered too much
attention, according to the director.
However, and not a coincidence she was
sure, they had accumulated the most single
day donations the library had ever seen,
that day.
“Thanks and you’re welcome,” the
younger librarian said, smiling.
“Take a minute to put your things
away then I’ll turn the desk over to you.
I’ll be in the museum archives most of the
day in case you need me and just have one
of the volunteers man the desk while you
take your lunch.” The director went back
to her stamping and shuffling allowing
Blanche the few minutes she needed to get
settled.
Back at the desk with her ‘now’,
‘night’ and ‘never’ boxes in front of her,
she laid out her plans for the workday.
With a few weeks behind her and her
responsibilities well under control, the
young librarian found that her work days
just sort of glided by, very few hiccups
from day to day except for the occasional
drunk that would stumble in looking for a
bathroom or the kids that often got too
rambunctious. Just before noon, and her
date with Marcus, the phone rang.
“Good morning, Valdosta Public
Library, how may I help you?” she said,
very professionally into the phone.
“Hey
Ms.
Delaney,
this
is
Seymour. My mom said you tried to get a
hold of me last night. Sorry I missed your
call, why didn’t you try my cell?” he said,
his Adam's Apple in the back of his throat.
“Oh, I didn’t want to bother you if
you were out with friends and it wasn’t
that important anyway. We just were
thinking of adding some more nights to the
schedule with school starting soon and
wondered if you’d be interested in some
more shifts,” she scrambled to think of a
plausible reason for her call the night
before. It was not totally untrue, they had
discussed the possibility of the extra
nights, as long as they could get proper
staffing.
“I see,” he said, somewhat
disappointed, then after a moment of
consideration continued, “Who would I be
working with, are you taking the extra late
shifts as well?”
“I’m sure I’ll have to do my fair
share, why?” she inquired, already
knowing the answer.
“Okay, I could use the extra cash
and if it means more shifts working with
you then I’m up for that. Just let me know
so I can make sure it doesn’t conflict with
my upcoming class schedule. While I’ve
got you, did you see all the police activity
yesterday?” he said, all the more excited
about the prospect of working with, and
hanging out more, with his new found
crush.
“Yeah, yesterday morning right? I
never did hear anything about it though.
Why, what’s up?” Blanche spoke in
hushed tones as to not bother those reading
at the tables nearby.
“The Sheriff’s Department is
running the investigation so I guess there
was another break in like the Riddle
woman a couple weeks ago. Remember,
the one with the guy in the underwear?”
“I remember. Did anybody get hurt
and where was it?” she strained to hear
the somewhat poor connection.
“There was a press conference
this morning but they didn’t release any
details, but it sounds like a real crime
wave has hit Valdosta. Do you think we
could have a serial ‘something’ living
here?” Seymour did his best to contain his
enthusiasm.
“You almost sound glad that this is
happening. That scares me a little bit.
What if somebody gets hurt?” Blanche