David Ellis

Eye of the Beholder

© 2007

For Sally Nystrom

June 1989

The “MansburyMassacre”

A source in the Marion Park Police Department confirms

that the body count is six. Six bodies have been discovered

in the basement of Bramhall Auditorium on the Mansbury

College campus. We have no word yet on whether the bodies

include the missing Mansbury students, Cassandra

Bentley and Elisha Danzinger.

– Carolyn Pendry, Newscenter 4, 1:18 P.M., June 26, 1989

Marion Park Police have arrested Terrance Demetrius

Burgos, 36, a part-time handyman at Mansbury College,

in the murders of six young women who were found murdered

and sexually molested in a campus auditorium.

– Daily Watch, June 27, 1989

1

MONDAY, JUNE 26, 1989, 8:32 A.M.

PAUL RILEY followed his police escort, navigated his car through the barricades, and stopped next to a patrol car. He shifted the gear into park, killed the engine, and said a quiet prayer.

Now the storm.

When he opened the door, letting in the thick, humid air, it felt like someone had jacked the volume on the stereo: An officer’s voice, through a bullhorn, warning the spectators and reporters to respect the police barricades. Reporters shouting questions at any officer they could find, some of them now turning to Riley, a man they didn’t know. Cops and medical and forensic technicians shouting instructions to each other. Other reporters, positioned with microphones, speaking loudly into cameras about the breaking news; hundreds of citizens, gathered from everywhere, speculating on what, precisely, had been found inside Bramhall Auditorium.

Riley knew little more than they. The word was, six bodies, young women, mutilated in various ways. Then there was the one additional fact that had been delivered by his boss in a shaky voice:

“They think one of them is Cassie.”

Cassandra Bentley, he’d meant, a student at Mansbury College, but, more important, the daughter of Harland and Natalia Bentley, a family worth billions. Family money. Political contributors. People who mattered. Even the name sounded wealthy.

Riley looked up at the bruised sky, where three news helicopters circled over this corner of the Mansbury College campus. He clipped his badge-all of three weeks old-to his jacket and looked for a uniform. There were plenty of them, in various colors-blue for Marion Park police, brown for deputies from the county sheriff’s office, white for Mansbury security, black from some other jurisdiction, probably brought in for crowd control.

He gave his name, and his title, something he wasn’t used to saying: “First Assistant County Attorney,” the top deputy to the county prosecutor.

“Who’s in charge?” he asked.

“Lightner,” the cop said, gesturing toward the auditorium.

Bramhall Auditorium took up half the block, a dome-topped structure arising from a large concrete staircase, a threshold supported by granite pillars, with a manicured lawn to each side. Riley counted the steps-twelve-and entered the lobby of the auditorium.

It was only slightly less sticky inside. No air-conditioning. School was out. No one was supposed to be using this auditorium this time of year. Access, Riley thought to himself. Who would have access?

Riley moved cautiously. He was new to this job but not to crime scenes. He’d been an assistant U.S. attorney-a federal prosecutor-for many years, and had spent most of the time working on a street gang that was no stranger to violence. Riley groaned at the number of law enforcement officials inside the place. Fewer was always better, but, as he looked around, he realized that little would be gained from all of the fingerprint dusting going on around him. This was an auditorium, with a decent-sized lobby, and a massive theater that, including the balcony, could probably house several thousand people. It would be easier to figure out who hadn’t left their prints.

To the side of the lobby, a door opened-the door, presumably, leading to the basement and the maintenance locker where the bodies were found. An officer stepped out and lifted his gas mask-with its charcoal-impregnated odor filter-just before he vomited on the floor.

Paul found himself instantly wishing for city cops. As a former federal prosecutor, he had a built-in bias against the city cops, too, but anything was preferable, in his mind, to a suburban

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