'You're the expert on psychotic behavior, the demented mind, the maladjusted, discontented, rage-filled disenfranchised aberrant soul out there on every street corner, so you tell me, Doctor, are you convinced this is the maniac's motive or not?'
'I'm not completely convinced, no.'
'And why is that?' pressed Lincoln.
'Because…because I keep feeling like there's a bell tolling in my ear, and it's ringing specifically for me and Lucas, that he's more interested in destroying our peace of mind than he is in acquiring a legendary reputation as a blackguard of negative fame. But on the other hand, perhaps he wants both.'
Lincoln paced back around the conference table. He contemplatively muttered, 'For whom the bell tolls, huh? It tolls for thee.'
'All I'm saying is I feel we're being stalked for reasons other than his wanting media attention,' Meredyth added.
Lincoln continued to pace the room. 'I want everyone who has been involved on the case in any way, shape, or form to come down and have a look at what this mother-fucker's shoved in our faces in our own house. Call in Chang, his CSI team, Purvis, Davies, anyone in your department who's been helping out, Detective North, Dr. Sanger, and get them all down here pronto! We begin to end this terrorism here and now. Call it an ad hoc task force, but get them here. We'll open your UPS box, Lucas, with Chang's people in attendance. All right, everyone, go out, make the necessary calls, get your heads together, and get back here ASAP.'
In a matter of twenty minutes, everyone who had had any hand whatsoever in the strange case of what was being called the Post-it Ripper stepped through the doors of the darkened conference room to stand and stare at the ugly image on the wall. Dr. Tom Davies was the last to enter, finding a seat near Chang and Nielsen. At one end of the table sat Jana North and the two men who had interrogated and polygraphed Dwayne Stokes. In addition, Jana had called in the two men who'd gone over Mira Lourdes's Saab. Stan Kelton, Lucas, and Meredyth sat at the other end. Between and among them sat various evidence technicians who had handled segments of the evidence gathering and/or specimen analysis from the crime scenes at either Meredyth's place, Lucas's apartment, or the police garage. Among them were photographer Steve Perelli and evidence tech Ted Hoskins. Alongside them, Dr. Catrina Purvis sat tapping a pencil nervously atop a notepad.
Finally, Anna Tewes, the sketch artist, was moving about the room, averting her eyes from the screen, busy handing out the updated description of the suspect. The new sketch, a blending of actor Richard Thomas's features with those of Microsoft's Bill Gates and director Ron Howard, included the hairy mole, black eyebrows, blond head, larger ears, and thicker glasses. The additions, courtesy of Stu the doorman, had transformed the bland 'happy face' original.
With all assembled, Captain Lincoln pointed to the eyeless image of the severed head on the wall, and informed them, 'Our crack team of detectives here, armed with a photo of a missing person, has told me this box you see at the center of the table contains the severed head of a young woman named Mira Lourdes, ladies and gentlemen.'
A photo of Mira Lourdes was thrown up on the wall beside the X-ray image of the head in the box, and Leonard Chang maneuvered the photo image to overlay the X-ray image. It formed a perfect match, down to the high cheekbones.
'Now you know who you've been gazing at since your arrival. A young murder victim, and the bastard that killed her, this Post-hole guy the press is chewing up our asses to know more about, has the temerity to dump this on my doorstep, here at the Thirty-first-our house, folks.' Lincoln moved around the room, pausing to let this sink in. 'Mira Lourdes's severed head.'
'This is the fourth parcel this creep has forwarded to us, all addressed to either Dr. Sanger or myself,' said Lucas.
Lincoln continued, saying, 'We are now going to open the second little present addressed to Lieutenant Stonecoat care of the department via UPS. Lights up, please.'
Someone near the switch gratefully brought up the lights. 'Dr. Chang, I bow to you,' Lincoln said, dropping into a chair in a near genuflection. 'Open the damned box, and we'll all have a firsthand look at what this madman has seen fit to send us.'
'In the flesh, so to speak,' commented Hoskins in a lame attempt to lighten the moment if only by a hair.
Chang and Nielsen had laid out a white sheet on the table and placed the parcel atop it. 'The sheet will catch any fibers or hairs that might go airborne on opening the box,' Chang explained.
'Steve, get photos of this from beginning to end, please,' said Lincoln.
Steve Perelli instantly found his feet and moved about the table, obviously glad to be working instead of staring. Using a compact film camera, he quickly began creating a photo history.
His hands gloved and steady, Leonard Chang next carefully cut away the plain brown wrapping from the box to reveal a liquor box beneath, the words Jim Beam prominently displayed. Chang then proceeded to cut away the tape holding the box closed. He next carefully pulled back the flaps, Perelli continuing to record it all with his camera.
Chang's face twitched slightly as he stared down into the box, and Perelli focused over his shoulder, both men privy to the still-vibrant color of auburn that was Mira's hair. Chang reached into the box and lifted out the dismembered head to the combined gasps of the men and women present, while Perelli somehow continued to roll film.
Chang held the head by a fistful of the wilted auburn hair, and he gently turned the eyeless face, examining all sides of the cranium for fractures or abrasions, but he found none. 'Hair is damp, possibly indicating it was washed by killer, or simply wet from thawing out.'
Liquid gruel dripped from the open gullet held over the white sheet. Chang reached a gloved hand up and into the gullet, stating, 'The semicircle of the hyoid bone is shattered so horribly, it is unlikely she was strangled to death. Likely shattered by an ax.'
No one said a word. The only sound was the quiet hum of Perelli's camera. Finally, Lucas asked, 'How do you know it was done with an ax?'
'Two blows,' replied Chang. 'First blow not so neat as second strike of the ax, Lucas. My best guessestimate with naked eye.'
Chang continued. 'The lack of coloration around the wounded eyes indicate she was mercifully dead when the eyes were removed.'
'Thank God for that much,' muttered Dr. Purvis, holding a handkerchief over her mouth and nostrils, fending off the ever-growing odor of the contents of the box. She contemplated the eyeballs that she'd declared those of a young woman.
'However, coloration at the neck wounds-at least two wounds from what I can see,' continued Chang, his eyes so close to the severed neck that his nose might be touching her hair, 'gives me suspicion that she was alive when her head was chopped off.'
'What kind of weapon do you suspect?' asked Jana North.
'A guillotine of some sort?' asked one of the polygraph men.
'A blunt blade, not a surgical tool, likely an ax, a dull one. Notice the jagged edges, the puckering and pigmentation of the skin around the wound, and the scarring at two separate angles.'
Everyone remained silent, picturing such an attack.
The young sketch artist, Anna Tewes, suddenly and noisily knocked over her chair as she stood and pushed away from the table, rushing for the door, holding back her morning's breakfast. She had brought a cup of coffee into the room with her, and its contents had spilled over the white sheet, creamy brown rivulets creating competing little serpent trails moving toward the severed head that Chang had plunked there. Lynn Nielsen threw a cloth over the coffee while others in the room stared at Tewes's exit, thinking they'd like to make an escape as well, but everyone remained seated, calm save for Dr. Purvis's coughing jag into her handkerchief.
No one could miss the jagged edges, dirt, and particles adhering to the gullet; all of it spoke of a messy, blunt ax job. 'Lizzy Borden took an ax and gave her mother forty whacks,' commented Ted Hoskins. The comment didn't lighten the mood around the table.
Dr. Lynn Nielsen leaned in toward Chang for a closer look at the assaulted neck. 'Dr. Chang is correct. There
