The second memo was from Chief of Police Andrews to Head of Homicide DeLaRue, explaining that it was in the best interest of both towns to keep these crimes in-house and not to release any information to the media at this time. He wished to be kept up-to-date on any and all progress in the case.
“So, he is here.” Jeff said.
“Come on partner,” Genghis said. “We knew this was a very good possibility.”
“Hey!” Jennifer said, looking at both of them. “It’s okay, we can catch him.”
They both turned to Jennifer, “Well . . . I mean you guys can catch him. I’m not going near that freak!” She then gestured to Genghis’s laptop. “You can find him, you can monitor all the police broadcasts, just like you did before, when you stopped Bollar!”
“But we didn't stop Bollar, he got away!” Trent said.
Jennifer turned to Trent and could see the anguish on his face. “But you did stop him!” She put her hand on his. “You both did. If it wasn’t for you two, he would have probably killed more people.” She paused. “More police officers.” She looked from Jeff to Genghis. “You both did stop him!”
Trent squeezed her hand and said, “Thank you, Jennifer.”
“You're welcome.” She reached over and rubbed Genghis’s left ear. “Hey! Coffee isn’t coffee without breakfast! How about eggs, sunny side up on English muffins?”
Jennifer put another pot of coffee on and made breakfast for them. They all ate while watching The Three Stooges, then switched over to the Cartoon Network. Bugs and Duffy should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque.
Something was nagging at Jennifer. “Hey, Genghis?”
“Yeah, Twink?”
“Would it be considered insensitive if I still pet you?”
“Well, yes, Twinkie, it would be,” Genghis responded. “But of course, we have to keep up with the image of being a normal human family . . . so if you want to, then, okay, it would be alright with me.”
“Okay, thanks.” She then reached over and gave him a nice scratch on the top of his head between the ears.
“Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff!” he said, closing his eyes. “A little to the left.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Lieutenant Dawson DeLaRue got the call as he pulled into the parking lot of the Westberry Police Department. Another body – this time displayed very dramatically and in a public place. They wouldn’t be able to keep this from the media any longer. It had been two months since the Old Town shootout that was still very much in the news, with the police department under the microscope. Local government, civil leaders, and the media were blasting the Westberry Police Department for their incompetence in letting the brazen “Old Town Gunman” escape after killing five of the Westberry’s finest, three innocent bystanders, and leaving twelve wounded. Along with over one million dollars worth in damages.
Lieutenant DeLaRue didn’t even put his Crown Vic in park, he just backed out of his parking spot and started driving to the Compton Square district of Old Town. He started thinking of the scrutiny that his police department was under by the media. When they found out that there was a serial killer in their midst, the shit would hit the fan. Dawson felt a migraine coming on.
DeLaRue drove up 11th Ave. to the playground that was between the Food and More and the building with Ted and Ray’s establishments. It was a very cold morning, with snow flurries riding the wind. When he arrived, police cars and emergency vehicles were already there and to no surprise, two news vans with their microwave booms stretching toward the sky, taking the story live.
Dawson parked and got out of his car, drawing his coat tight. The low gray cloud cover matched his mood. He started walking toward the playground, which was circled with yellow crime scene tape and blue wooden police barricades. There were three very large tarps erected that tried to conceal the victim from the news cameras. Dawson was met by Detective McVie, who stretched the tape high for the Lieutenant to go under before the throng of reporters could get to him.
“Press is all over the goddamn place,” Frank said as he walked quickly to keep up with DeLaRue.
“Yeah, well not much we can do about that now,” Dawson said while reaching for a cigarette. “Cat's pretty much outta the bag. What do we have, Frank?”
“Female, approximately eighteen to twenty-two years old, strung up like a Christmas goose between the frame of the swing set. Naked like the others, gutted like the others.”
Dawson, as he got closer, could see the chief medical examiner and the crime scene techs milling about the victim. Lieutenant DeLaRue started really contemplating retirement when he saw the victim. She was young, in a sitting position with her head back and arms spread wide. Her wrists were tied to the side frames of the bi-pod swing set. She was naked, breasts folded back like that of an open book revealing an empty chest cavity.
“This one’s really disturbing,” Doctor Martin Riviera said to Dawson.
“How so?” DeLaRue asked, while taking a deep drag from his cigarette, thinking aren’t they all.
“Well, most of this was done to her while she was still alive.”
“Good God!” Frank said.
“Yeah,” the medical examiner said. “She was vivisected.”
Dawson could not comprehend what this poor girl had gone through and he tried very hard not to. He looked down at her. She had short blond hair matted down with the cold morning dew. Her head was back, leaning upon her right shoulder, eyes and mouth slightly open, with black mascara and dried tear streaks running down her cheeks.
Jeff Trent and Genghis Khan were parked a block and a half from the playground. Trent had the IPF binoculars to his eyes. “The large dark man in the hat seems to be in charge. Could be that Lieutenant DeLaRue,” he was saying as he surveyed the crime scene.
Genghis had been monitoring the Westberry Police Department's emergency
