Page 29 of Dark Angel
“I don’t have a dog.” Wolfe sat behind the desk and smiled. “I leave refreshments for my visitors’ dogs, which includes Deputy Kane’s bloodhound, Duke, and Agent Ty Carter’s Doberman, Zorro. They usually wait here in my office during the autopsies. Bear is welcome to wait in here and eat as much as he likes.”
Smiling, Styles gave Bear the hand signal to stand down and the dog wagged his long tail and went straight for the bowls. “Thanks. Like us, he’s been traveling for a time.” He sat down and brought Wolfe up to date.
“I’ve used Snapshot before and it’s great if a match is found to a missing person.” Wolfe sighed. “The problem is that not everyone is reported missing, and many are homeless people or people hiding off the grid. There are a ton of unsolved crimes out there.” He looked from one to the other. “While you’ve been away, I collected the bodies from the ravine wreck. Both victims have been positively identified. The driver’s fingerprints were in the database, and as luck would have it, the mother of the female victim submitted her DNA when her daughter went missing. The results came through earlier and the girl in the van is Aisha Santiago out of Colorado. She went missing three years ago.”
“That would be around the time that the Pied Piper changed his MO from one girl to two.” Beth leaned forward in her chair. “With her discovery, and the body of Scarlett both miles away from each other, that leaves us with only one obvious solution. The Pied Piper is killing one girl and selling the other.”
“Have y’all considered the possibility he might have an accomplice?” Wolfe stood and went to a coffee machine and pushed in pods. “From what I know of this case, the girls the Pied Piper kills are all blonde with blue eyes; the ones who remain missing are of various types. Over the last four years or so, I’ve been involved in the investigation of a ton of serial killer murders. It seems to me that most of them stick to the same type of victim.”
As the fragrant aroma of coffee filled the room, masking the smell of death and chemicals, Styles shrugged. “I guess that is a possibility but we’re not seeing any evidence to prove there was more than one man. If we had been able to get to Aisha Santiago before she drowned in the back of the van, we would have had answers to all the questions about the Pied Piper.”
“Hmm.” Wolfe placed the coffee fixings on the desk and handed around the cups. “If your theory is correct, the Pied Piper would have faith in the people he sold the girls to and there would be some type of contract between them to make sure they’d never surface alive.” He sat down with a sigh and looked at Beth. “Your expertise is cybercrime first, and as an undercover agent second, is that right?”
“Yeah, and before you go any further, I don’t believe that the Pied Piper is the kingpin in this organization, and unfortunately, I can’t help by going undercover to catch him. I’m way too old for his tastes.” Beth stirred cream and sugar into her cup. “Our priority at this time is to catch the Pied Piper. We’re taking one crime at a time.”
Styles sipped his coffee and regarded them both over the rim of the cup. “We have our reasons for concentrating on him. We know Scarlett was working the streets in San Francisco. It only took good detective work to discover she was working under a pimp by the name of Spike. The prostitutes we spoke to on the street made it quite clear that he only deals in underage girls, but all of them were too afraid to come forward. If this is the case, the Pied Piper is only a very small part of the supply chain. So, for now he is our target. Find him and we cut one head off the snake.”
“And if the man in the van is the Pied Piper?” Wolfe raised one blond eyebrow, his gray eyes alert and missing nothing. “What’s your next step?”
“I guess we take down men like Spike, one at a time, until we find the man in charge.” Beth shrugged. “I know it will take time but I’m not a quitter.”
“That’s good to know.” Wolfe nodded. “Predators seem to breed like rats.”
Styles laughed. “Then I’m going to be the exterminator.”
THIRTY
Attachment to people wasn’t something Beth experienced. She rarely actually liked anyone. In fact, she couldn’t recall what that particular emotion felt like, and yet Shane Wolfe intrigued her. He was an impressive-looking man, tall, strong, and chiseled, but it wasn’t that type of attraction. From time to time, she’d experienced the animal magnetism people had toward each other and often wondered if it was a small remaining feral part of her, because she’d never loved anyone. Her research did mention a certain kind of love psychopaths experienced, a low-level friendship that rarely lasted. Perhaps it was Wolfe’s knowledge that attracted her. He was so direct and gave a no-frills version of life that left her speechless. She stared at him as he delivered his autopsy report on Brooklyn Daniels.
“There’s not too much more to tell you since my initial examination on scene.” Wolfe indicated to the screens behind his desk. “Cause of death resulted from sharp force trauma. Three precisely placed wounds, forced under the rib cage and into the heart. Death would have been instantaneous. I found the positioning of the wounds to be particularly unusual, mainly because if a child was fighting for their life, they would be thrashing around, and yet these wounds are not hurried, each as if it was carefully placed to ensure a swift death.”
Fighting to control the brimming rage, Beth swallowed hard as Wolfe displayed the autopsy images on the screen. “Could she have been unconscious? Would she have passed out during the rape?”
“This is another thing that’s unusual.” Wolfe displayed more images. “There are no bruises on her thighs. She didn’t fight at all, and I’ve seen many murdered kids—they all fight back. All the bruising is in the vaginal area and the tears are consistent with rape. I found traces of condom lubrication, but he was very careful not to leave any other trace evidence.” He sighed. “What I’m saying is there’s every indication that Brooklyn Daniels was unconscious during her ordeal. It wasn’t from asphyxiation or trauma. I’ve run tests for the usual drugs and came up with zip. Agreed, a date-rape drug might have left her system, but I was concerned by the purple stain inside her mouth. When I checked her stomach contents, I discovered a small amount of fluid. I’m convinced she was drugged using an herbal concoction. Right now, we’re running tests for belladonna and valerian. Mixed together, they’d be powerful enough to render a child unconscious.”
“That would make sense.” Styles rubbed his chin. “He had two girls. If he drugged them, he could carry one back to his vehicle and then return to murder the second. They wouldn’t make a sound.”
Unconvinced, Beth frowned. “The problem with that theory is that a psychopathic serial killer like the Pied Piper is living out a fantasy. They get their thrills when their victims fight back. Their excitement increases if the victim struggles, begs for their life, screams. I’m not buying it.”
“Have you heard of necrophiliacs?” Styles gave her a long look. “Maybe his fantasy is the kid is already dead. We can’t see what’s inside his head, can we? You said they’re all different, so maybe his fantasy is different too.”
Conceding his point, Beth nodded but then a knock came on the door.
“Yeah?” Wolfe stared at the door as Colt Webber, his assistant, poked his head inside.
“We’re ready for you now.” Colt smiled.
“Okay, we’re on our way.” Wolfe stood to one side and waved Beth through the door. “We’ll suit up first.”
Skin crawling in anticipation, Beth moved into the hallway. She disliked morgues with a passion. The smell of death was depressing, although this was part of the job and observing an autopsy often gave the necessary clues for her to solve a crime. The difference between her and others became more obvious inside a place like this. For her the sight and smell of warm blood was intoxicating. Being present at the crime scene of a recent horrendous murder thrilled her, but being in a morgue and witnessing a victim’s autopsy was likened to sorting through the dumpster of a fine restaurant. The carefully prepared and delightful meal had been devoured and the leftovers tossed out to rot.
Glad of the mentholated salve, she waited in silence for Wolfe to complete the examination of Aisha Santiago. Her blood had been taken away for testing earlier and although a full toxicology screen would take a week or so to complete, Wolfe was able to test for specific drugs in his laboratory. On an array of screens, X-rays and other information were displayed. Once this victim’s autopsy was completed, he changed his gloves and apron and went straight to work on Scarlett Chester. She took a step closer to the body of Aisha when he’d finished speaking into his microphone. Peering at a dead body didn’t concern her, but the circumstances around her death, and many like her, were the reason she joined the FBI. Her keen sense of justice was the only thing that set her apart from others like her and she believed she’d become judge and jury for a reason. It didn’t take a genius to know that a serial killer could literally get away with murder, but if she could be sure they wouldn’t slip through the net to continue their murderous rampage, she’d allow justice to take its course. If not, she’d make a split-second decision on the fly.
Her gaze moved over to the pathetic corpses on the gurneys. It was obvious that these two young girls had suffered for years. The Pied Piper had instigated their torment. He might have died in the van. If not, he was an extremely dangerous adversary and one she must face alone to take down. She doubted that any prison would hold him, and he would never get to court because someone like him would have friends in high places. She figured this was the reason he’d been allowed to keep on killing. It was his reward for supplying the dark web with underage girls. She turned to Wolfe. “Can you break it down for us please? All those clinical terms you use fly right over my head.”
“Sure.” Wolfe walked over to the screen array. “The majority of the injuries Aisha Santiago sustained happened during the wreck. The water in her lungs is consistent with the sample of creek water taken at the scene. In simple terms, she drowned. The time of death is the time y’all witnessed the van going under in the creek.” He frowned. “There are significant other injuries. She has ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. The X-rays indicate previous breaks to the ribs and the right forearm. There is strong indication of prolonged sexual abuse.”
“The poor kid.” Styles ran a gloved hand down his face. “We were so close to saving her.”
