Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase
Chapter Eight
Tuesday 0255 hours
Katie got ready to go in record time, pulling on a pair of jeans, T-shirt, jacket, and boots. She broke most speed limits all the way to the fairgrounds. Luckily, due to the early morning hour, the traffic was extremely light, making the journey that much faster. She opted to leave Cisco at home this time.
As she drove around to the west gate of the fairgrounds, Katie noted that this would be the entry point for the livestock areas. It was also next to the rides. She remembered the layout of the area based on her visits to the fair. She saw the flashing lights and a myriad of first responders and police cars ahead.
She eased her Jeep up to the gate and stopped where a deputy was stationed. He opened the gate.
Rolling down her window and showing her identification, she said, “Detective Scott.”
The deputy waved her inside and motioned to the area where the other vehicles were parked.
Katie recognized McGaven’s truck, her uncle’s SUV, the forensic van, the medical examiner’s van, fire truck, and several deputy cruisers. There was also another SUV that she didn’t immediately recognize.
Still stunned by yesterday’s events and the news that Chad would be leaving for six months, Katie pushed herself harder, trying to put everything behind her and focus on this victim. Her heart felt attacked but she wasn’t broken.
Pulling up next to McGaven’s truck, Katie cut the engine and quickly got out of the car. The lights she was seeing weren’t from police cars or emergency first responders, but from one of the rides. She spotted her uncle.
The flashing lights were suddenly extinguished.
Katie walked toward the sheriff, but was met by McGaven. “Hey,” he said.
“And again, you beat me here. Have you seen the victim yet?” she asked.
“No. It’s like a closed set or something,” said McGaven.
Katie waited a moment but the sheriff was speaking with officers and a young woman that she didn’t know. She decided to jump ahead and have a look at the crime scene to see what they were in for.
But as she started walking, she was quickly intercepted. “Detective Scott,” said her uncle. “I need to speak with you.”
Katie was beginning to get impatient, but dutifully, she turned back to meet up with him.
“Yes?”
“I want you to meet Agent Dawn Haley,” he said.
“I’m…” she began.
“Yes, I know you’re Detective Katie Scott. Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you,” said the perky agent, nervously moving around. She was petite, with shoulder-length brown hair that moved every time she spoke. She didn’t seem to be dressed appropriately for a crime scene.
Katie studied her for a moment, unable to believe that this young woman, obviously a rookie—maybe thirty?—was at a homicide scene. “Nice to meet you.” She turned to the sheriff. “When can I see the crime scene?”
“Agent Campbell and I have spoken and we’re in agreement that you run the scene with McGaven, and Agents Campbell and Haley are spectators.”
Katie wondered if she had heard him correctly and hesitated a moment before speaking again. “Uh, am I missing something here?”
“Not at all. The crime scene is yours. It appears to be connected to your cold cases.”
Katie knew that look the sheriff gave when he wasn’t going to answer any more questions and it was time to get to work.
“It’s this way,” said McGaven.
It was a relief to Katie to hear her partner’s voice—something pulling her into reality and making her feel grounded.
Katie and McGaven walked past John Blackburn, the forensics manager, who was getting ready to work the scene when they were done. He nodded to them.
They reached the ride and approached the Ferris wheel—where two deputies were erecting a cordon—for a closer look.
“You ready?” Katie said softly to McGaven.
“As I’ll ever be…”
“Turn the lights on like it was when we arrived,” said a loud voice behind them. It was Agent Campbell, hanging back far enough from the crime area but close enough to see it. He was accompanied by rookie Agent Haley.
Katie walked up to the ride, remembering all the times she had ridden it during her childhood. Each car was painted a different color and was attached to a large wheel that would take the cars around in a full revolution. When you were at the top, you could see for miles. It had been one of her favorite rides as a child.
Another deputy went to the controls, turned the main emergency switch clockwise, and then pulled a lever. Instantly, the ride roared to life with bright colorful lights and irritating fairy-tale music, the jolly melody mocking the seriousness of the murder scene. The cars came around in turn, all empty—except for one where a solitary rider remained frozen in her seat.
“Stop!” yelled Katie. She raised her hands to halt the ride.
As it drew to a halt, she approached the car. The blaring music continued, which she found distracting. Reaching into her pockets, she retrieved a pair of exam gloves and slipped them on. As she came closer, she could see that the car held a woman, with long blonde hair, sitting up straight. It was eerie and surreal, and Katie was reminded of the feeling of walking into a carnival funhouse, half expecting something to jump out at her.
Her pulse raced and familiar heavy anxiety invaded her stomach, the feeling changing to a nervous energy.
Closer still, she could see the gaping hole across the woman’s neck. Her head was positioned facing directly forward and her dead gaze fell directly on Katie. It was one of those looks that seemed to follow you around—almost as if the lifeless girl was condemning everyone at the location. It stopped Katie cold. She shook off the unnerving feeling and focused on the rest of the body inside the small car.
“Hey, could someone turn off the music?” said Katie. “And we need some lighting over here.” McGaven handed her a flashlight and she flipped it on, beginning with the examination of the victim’s face.
The exaggerated lipstick, rouge, and eye shadow created the same creepy appearance of the other victims, indicating the same MO. It didn’t relate to the cause of death, but added the visual drama the killer wanted. The poor young woman obviously went through hell and ended up a killer’s prize.
The music finally stopped, leaving a welcome silence.
Katie leaned closer. It was difficult to see at first under the greasy makeup, but her skin was grossly pale, almost translucent. This time the bright blood-red lipstick wasn’t just an exaggeration around the natural lips, but was drawn in a downward curve that resembled a sad clown. The dark purple eye shadow went completely around her eyes, making her look like she had been punched in the face. The blush was a hot pink and smudged down her cheekbones in no special technique—but almost as an afterthought. Her forearms were sliced in a crisscross pattern that indicated defense wounds and several of her fingers appeared broken—disjointed and bluish. The victim had undoubtedly fought for her life.
Who are you?
How did you cross paths with this killer?
“This time the makeup doesn’t make her look like a creepy doll, but as if she was beaten up,” said Katie, trying to maintain her professionalism in the face of the heinous crime in front of her. “The killer possibly wants to draw attention to abuse?” She thought about the reality of the killer escalating.
McGaven studied the victim’s face as well. “A warning of some kind?”
“Of things to come…” she said in a quiet tone.
Three construction lights on tripods went up and immediately illuminated far beyond the crime scene. It looked like daylight until you saw the dark edges just out of view.
Katie felt more conspicuous after the bright lights went on, as if she were on a stage—the killer’s stage. There were many people watching the investigation unfold—specifically, watching Katie examine the victim and the surrounding area. She caught sight of John waiting patiently in the darkness to begin documenting and collecting evidence.
“Who was the first officer at the scene?” she asked McGaven. “And who called it in?”
McGaven left her side to gather information.
Focusing back on the Ferris wheel car, Katie noticed the victim’s hair had been triple knotted and secured to the metal bar.
Unusual technique.
Why?
She surmised that the killer wanted the victim looking straight ahead.
At attention?
Eyes on the killer?
The victim’s throat looked to have been cut with something extremely sharp, judging by the smooth edges of the gaping skin. The knife, or cutting device, was steady and sliced in a straight horizontal line.
Someone with experience in the medical profession?
Katie could ascertain that the blade went deep enough to cut almost through the vertebrae, but Dr. Dean would have to give the expert opinion.
McGaven returned with a heavyset deputy with the name Pendleton on his ID tag.
“Detective Scott,” he said and nodded in respect.
“Deputy Pendleton, can you tell me about the call that got you here and what you saw?” asked Katie.
“We received a call from someone who didn’t identify themselves but stated that there was a missing person found at the fairgrounds.”
“Missing person?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did they say who?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Any other description, like if it was a man or woman?”
“Negative.”
“Dispatch couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman?”
“The person whispered.”
“Did you enter from the west gate?”
“Yes, it was already open.”
“Unlocked? Or was the gate wide open?” she asked, realizing that the killer wanted the body to be found quickly—leaving the gate open was like an invitation.
“The gate was open.”
“What did you see as you drove in?”
“Nothing at first, but I heard the music. I drove around and flashed the spotlight in every corner.”
“And?”
“I was initially looking for the missing person, but didn’t see anyone. Something didn’t seem right. We didn’t receive any details, whether it was a man, woman, or what they were wearing. Then my concern was that someone might be hiding—especially in the livestock areas. Or maybe that it might possibly be an ambush.”
“Was the music going the entire time?”
“Yes. I’m not sure but it seemed to get louder—and not because I drove closer.”
“Did you see anything unusual?”
“No, so I called in my position and moved toward the music.” He took a breath. “I saw the Ferris wheel in motion with lights flashing.”
Out of her peripheral vision, Katie saw Agent Campbell and his assistant agent move in closer to hear the conversation, but staying respectfully distanced. They leaned in to each other, obviously whispering. She ignored them and focused on what the deputy was saying. She had again that strange, prickly feeling of being part of a movie set, or a play.
The tall bright lights.
The focus on her, center stage.
The posing of the body.
Katie’s mind raced and her heart was heavy as she thought about the victim.
Is that what the killer wanted?
To be the center of attention? The killer more than the victim?
“What did you do next?” Katie kept her tone professional but she was intrigued by the chain of events.
“I stopped in front of the Ferris wheel and stepped out of my cruiser. That’s when I saw the vic and radioed immediately and requested backup. I didn’t stop the ride because I didn’t want to touch anything. I got back into the car to wait for backup to arrive to search the fairgrounds in case the perp was still here.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No, ma’am. We finally turned off the ride and waited for you to arrive.”
“Thank you, Deputy.” Katie turned to address the group. “Okay, listen up!” she announced with all the calmness she could muster. “I want the entire fairgrounds searched. If a building or concession stand is locked, get the keys. I want search groups in teams of two. That means every building, every ride, and every stall in the livestock area. Be mindful that anything could be evidence, so don’t attempt to retrieve or move it.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” asked a deputy.
“Anything that might be related to the killer or victim. Anything. Something that is out of place or possibly planted, or dropped by the killer. But, specifically, there should be a piece of jewelry with a ribbon hanging somewhere, and some kind of knife. Please stay alert.” She turned to Deputy Pendleton. “Can you organize the teams and report back?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smiled.
“Thank you.”
The deputy hurried to the group of officers to coordinate.
McGaven leaned close to Katie. “You just made his day.”
“What? Really?”
“You bet! If I was still on patrol and was asked to do that from a detective you might see a skip or two in my stride.”
Katie smiled. “That I’d pay to see.”
She turned back to the ride, taking a cleansing breath. Carefully moving around the compartments, she opened the ride car door so she could get closer to the body. Blood poured out like a light waterfall and spattered against the ground. Katie jumped back as quickly as she could but her boots and jeans took the brunt of it.
“You okay?” said McGaven.
“Yeah,” she said sourly. “We now know that she was killed here and not somewhere else—because she bled out here.”
With a feeble attempt, Katie tried to brush the blood away. It was no use. Her heart hammered and felt as if it would break. Remembering to breathe slowly, she tried to maintain her professional demeanor, but she couldn’t shake the familiar feelings. She would have to continue the investigation saturated with the victim’s blood until it dried or until she could make it home. Her immediate thought was that everyone was watching and assessing how she handled herself, so she forged on without hesitation. Her hands trembled slightly and she felt light-headed as she pushed away images of blown-up and bleeding soldiers from the battlefield. For some of them, she had been the last person they spoke to before death.
I can do this…
Katie carefully peered inside the car, not touching anything unnecessarily. The victim was wearing dark shorts and a sleeveless, light-colored top, which seemed odd, considering the temperature. It was too cold to wear such light clothing.
Was the victim dressed by the killer?
Before or after death? Planned or not?
Were the clothing pieces specific to what the killer wanted to convey? Summer? What was to come?
As if he’d read her mind, McGaven said, “She’s dressed for summer. Is that on purpose, or a way of the killer trying to send us a message?”
“I’m not sure, but it is unusual for clothes to be chosen by the killer.”
McGaven looked closer at the car and the body.
The victim was without shoes and her feet looked battered underneath all the blood. Two of her toes on her right foot appeared to be broken, judging by their odd position. They would know more when the victim was cleaned up and examined by Dr. Dean.
Katie took a pen and carefully moved the torn neckline of the top to see what appeared to be a heavily discolored area.
“Bruised?” he said.
“It looks like it.”
“Maybe that’s how the killer was able to get her into the car. Perhaps hitting her on the chest to either incapacitate or kill her. The killer could have partially drugged her… we’ll have to see what the medical examiner has to say.”
“We found something!” yelled a deputy.