"John Doggett." John answered his phone.
"John its Monica. Where are you?"
"Just leaving the hospital. Where are you?"
"Still at the station. I found something in the files. I found reports of three more women who were bled and left at the hospital. That's seven women altogether."
"When were they attacked?"
"All last year – on the 22nd of June, the 31st of July and the 21st of September. Midsummer, Lammas and the Autumn Equinox respectively."
"Why the hell didn't McKinley make the connection with these other three women?"
"I think you were right about him, John. I don't think he's telling us everything. I found out something else too, but I don't want to tell you over the phone."
"Stay where you are and I'll swing by and pick you up."
XxX
1:15PM
MacGuires Bistro
"Is this information correct?" John asked.
Monica nodded.
"How the hell --?"
"They move around a lot. Every five years they pick up and go somewhere new. Change their names, swap spouses – that's if they're even married, and start afresh. And then women start turning up at hospitals assaulted and bled."
"How -?"
"Money talks, John. I think they get useful people on side – like doctors, judges –"
"Police sergeants." John interrupted.
Monica smiled in agreement. "And probably pay them for years before they start their rituals. By then it's too late – they're in over their heads. They've got no choice but to cover up for them."
"So you're figuring the whole Winfield family is involved?"
"I'd bet on it."
"Who would do the actual – ah, how would they work out who had sex with the victim, who bleeds her?"
"It's a sex cult John – they probably all have sex with her. Until the time of bloodletting, then I think that whoever is handy at the time cuts, and someone else would have to catch the blood."
"Okay, but the eighth victim –"
"The eighth victim is the culmination of all the other victims. She's the end of the cycle. The supreme sacrifice. So after they've used her they drain her completely, and she dies."
"People have a habit of noticing dead women with no blood. Surely someone would catch up with –"
"They disappear just after the eighth victim. If anyone actually objects to the severity of the attack and attempts to confront them or report them, they're already gone. And since they have the money and resources to change their names, nobody is ever brought to justice."
"How long – " John grinned and held up his hand to cut Monica off. "Let me finish at least one sentence today, will ya? How long have they been operating?"
Monica took a bite of her chicken sandwich and waited to draw out the suspense. "Keeping in mind that I won't be able to access the Bureau's full resources until we get back to DC - I found reports going back 35 years."
"Impossible." John said flatly.
"The same MO every five years, on the same dates; 7 victims bled, culminating in the death of the eighth victim on Beltane. Then nothing until the cycle starts in some new town five years later."
"I'll buy that maybe – only maybe – it's the same group. But no way is it the same group of people."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough. I tracked down one of the earliest victims from thirty years ago. She's agreed to meet with us."
"Monica –"
"What have we got to lose? She'll either identify Daniel Winfield or she won't."
John sighed in resignation. "Where is she?"
"Springfield, Massachusetts. I've booked us a flight for tomorrow."
"You think we're finished here?"
"At least until Beltane. If we're being stone walled by the police and doctors, there's nothing else we can do. What *did* the friendly doctor have to say for himself anyway?"
John chuckled. "He was very interesting. He suddenly became very talkative when I threatened to go to the AMA. But he's also scared shitless. I wouldn't put it past him to go to Winfield and tell him I was asking him questions."
Monica shrugged. "He already knows we're suspicious. What did he say?"
"You're right – he is getting paid. But not by Winfield. One of Winfield's sisters. Apparently once a month for the past five years she's been meeting him for, and I quote, 'the most mind blowing, orgasmic sex I've ever had.'"
"I wonder if she's offering the same service to the judge and Sergeant McKinley?"
"Wouldn't put it past her. But that's not all. For every victim that the doctor kept his mouth shut about, a ten thousand dollar deposit was made into his bank account."
"Seventy thousand dollars. That's a lot of money, especially to a small town sergeant."
"That's what I was thinkin'. But I don't think he knows what's gonna happen to the eighth victim."
"You want to enlighten him? See if he's prepared to cover up for a murderer?"
"That's exactly what I want to do."
Monica finished the last bite of her sandwich. "Let's go then."
"John its Monica. Where are you?"
"Just leaving the hospital. Where are you?"
"Still at the station. I found something in the files. I found reports of three more women who were bled and left at the hospital. That's seven women altogether."
"When were they attacked?"
"All last year – on the 22nd of June, the 31st of July and the 21st of September. Midsummer, Lammas and the Autumn Equinox respectively."
"Why the hell didn't McKinley make the connection with these other three women?"
"I think you were right about him, John. I don't think he's telling us everything. I found out something else too, but I don't want to tell you over the phone."
"Stay where you are and I'll swing by and pick you up."
XxX
1:15PM
MacGuires Bistro
"Is this information correct?" John asked.
Monica nodded.
"How the hell --?"
"They move around a lot. Every five years they pick up and go somewhere new. Change their names, swap spouses – that's if they're even married, and start afresh. And then women start turning up at hospitals assaulted and bled."
"How -?"
"Money talks, John. I think they get useful people on side – like doctors, judges –"
"Police sergeants." John interrupted.
Monica smiled in agreement. "And probably pay them for years before they start their rituals. By then it's too late – they're in over their heads. They've got no choice but to cover up for them."
"So you're figuring the whole Winfield family is involved?"
"I'd bet on it."
"Who would do the actual – ah, how would they work out who had sex with the victim, who bleeds her?"
"It's a sex cult John – they probably all have sex with her. Until the time of bloodletting, then I think that whoever is handy at the time cuts, and someone else would have to catch the blood."
"Okay, but the eighth victim –"
"The eighth victim is the culmination of all the other victims. She's the end of the cycle. The supreme sacrifice. So after they've used her they drain her completely, and she dies."
"People have a habit of noticing dead women with no blood. Surely someone would catch up with –"
"They disappear just after the eighth victim. If anyone actually objects to the severity of the attack and attempts to confront them or report them, they're already gone. And since they have the money and resources to change their names, nobody is ever brought to justice."
"How long – " John grinned and held up his hand to cut Monica off. "Let me finish at least one sentence today, will ya? How long have they been operating?"
Monica took a bite of her chicken sandwich and waited to draw out the suspense. "Keeping in mind that I won't be able to access the Bureau's full resources until we get back to DC - I found reports going back 35 years."
"Impossible." John said flatly.
"The same MO every five years, on the same dates; 7 victims bled, culminating in the death of the eighth victim on Beltane. Then nothing until the cycle starts in some new town five years later."
"I'll buy that maybe – only maybe – it's the same group. But no way is it the same group of people."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough. I tracked down one of the earliest victims from thirty years ago. She's agreed to meet with us."
"Monica –"
"What have we got to lose? She'll either identify Daniel Winfield or she won't."
John sighed in resignation. "Where is she?"
"Springfield, Massachusetts. I've booked us a flight for tomorrow."
"You think we're finished here?"
"At least until Beltane. If we're being stone walled by the police and doctors, there's nothing else we can do. What *did* the friendly doctor have to say for himself anyway?"
John chuckled. "He was very interesting. He suddenly became very talkative when I threatened to go to the AMA. But he's also scared shitless. I wouldn't put it past him to go to Winfield and tell him I was asking him questions."
Monica shrugged. "He already knows we're suspicious. What did he say?"
"You're right – he is getting paid. But not by Winfield. One of Winfield's sisters. Apparently once a month for the past five years she's been meeting him for, and I quote, 'the most mind blowing, orgasmic sex I've ever had.'"
"I wonder if she's offering the same service to the judge and Sergeant McKinley?"
"Wouldn't put it past her. But that's not all. For every victim that the doctor kept his mouth shut about, a ten thousand dollar deposit was made into his bank account."
"Seventy thousand dollars. That's a lot of money, especially to a small town sergeant."
"That's what I was thinkin'. But I don't think he knows what's gonna happen to the eighth victim."
"You want to enlighten him? See if he's prepared to cover up for a murderer?"
"That's exactly what I want to do."
Monica finished the last bite of her sandwich. "Let's go then."