Chapter 7: Body Count
With sunlight streaming in through the windows, Mark pottered around the kitchen running over the events of the previous evening. Steve's declaration of admiration had been the last thing he had expected after the incident at the hospital, and whilst it had warmed his heart greatly, it had also thrown him slightly.
He had been ready to step back from the investigation, to tell Steve that he would stop interfering. But now… He could dive in headfirst and start probing the case further, which, if he was honest with himself, would satisfy the gnawing curiosity that played on his mind. Or should he tread carefully? Play it safe and let Steve continue to lead the investigation lending help when, and indeed if, he was asked.
Mark sighed to himself. The last thing he wanted was to get in Steve's way, no matter how much he professed to needing assistance.
"Hi, Dad!" Steve bounded into the kitchen, a large smile plastered over his face.
"Ahh… coffee!" he inhaled deeply.
"What are you so happy about?" Mark responded, unsure of the source of his son's apparent good mood.
"Well, I've been thinking. We've got a potential witness in Marty – he may not think he's seen anything significant," Steve interjected as his father made to interrupt, "but even seemingly trivial things could lead us to the killer. And with your input… well, let's just say things are looking up." Steve lifted his cup of freshly poured coffee in the fashion of a toast and smiled broadly at his father, who couldn't help but smile at his flourish.
Deciding that he could do no better than follow Steve's lead, Mark waded in with a question.
"So… how did things go over at Medi-Quick yesterday?"
"Mmm…" Steve said swallowing the large mouthful of coffee he had just taken, "Not so great."
"Surely they co-operated? I've known Ed Flanagan for years and I've never known him to be anything but obliging. And anyway – you had a warrant."
"Flanagan wasn't the problem. He told me he'd give any information we need and seemed very concerned that his customers were being killed."
"So what was it then?" Mark was evidently confused.
"Medi-Quick has recently had a new computer system installed. All of their files have been put onto an updated database network and the whole thing has crashed – they've lost everything."
"What about paper-based files?" Mark said, a sinking feeling settling in his chest as he realised one of their major leads may now prove fruitless.
"They were destroyed when they moved to a computerised system about a year ago. All the details on new and existing customers were logged into the old network before the upgrade, and with the new system out of action there's not really much they can do to help us. They've got the technicians in, but it's not looking too good." Steve finished with disheartened sigh.
Mark was silent for a moment, taking in the new information.
"What about the employees? Maybe there's one particular individual who delivered to each of the victims?"
"Well," Steve started, "I suggested that to Mr. Flanagan and whilst he can't give me any definitive answers it looks doubtful. The victims lived in different districts and Medi-Quick have couriers localised to each area."
Mark contemplated this again, and sighed, dejected.
"I did have one idea though… I mean, I know it's a long shot but I thought about sending out details of the MO to a few other precincts in the country. You know, just in case…" Steve trailed off, looking to his father for feedback on the idea.
"Seeing as how few leads we have, I suppose anything's worth a try."
The day thereafter did not bring to light any further insights into the case. A repeat of the interview with Marty had yielded a detailed diary of his day-to-day activities, and whilst a few facts had stood out they were insubstantial at best.
The late afternoon saw Steve sitting at his desk, tapping a pencil distractedly. As soon as he had arrived that morning he had sent a summary of the murders to several precincts around the country, selecting major cities on the off chance that something would turn up. He didn't really expect any response, but the hope lingered in his mind that a clue might yet be found to help him break the case. Despite his earlier optimism however, the lack of progress was, yet again, beginning to get to him, and deciding that there was nothing more he could do that day, he slipped his jacket off the back of his chair and left for home.
Arriving at work the next morning Steve immediately sought out a fresh hit of caffeine, his sleepy mind having neglected to acknowledge he was awake and trying to function. Having acquired a cup of steaming coffee he sat heavily into the chair at his desk thinking longingly of taking a nap, only to find a small pile of papers placed most inconsiderately in the spot he had picked out as a headrest.
Flicking through them with only a semblance of interest, he found several photos of bodies – each victim on their knees, head falling limply to their chests, a bullet wound apparent to the head. Steve was just preparing himself to get up and question why these files had been returned to his desk when one photo in particular caught his eye. It was a woman. An elderly woman. The only female victim so far had been 26 years old.
Flicking through the files more frantically, Steve searched each page with his eyes. Names, dates; murder, after murder, all killed in the same way. A bullet to the brain and then their mutilated corpses posed in a gratuitous execution style position.
For the next hour he read. Details of unsolved murders, some going back five years or more. The pattern was there – every surname matched the date pattern Jack had identified, and the first two letters of the secondary victim's profession matched those of the prior victim's surname. There was no doubt left in Steve's mind. These new murders, all 18 of them, all had been carried out by the same killer, and that killer was now roaming the streets of LA.
"Dad!" Steve hurried along the hospital corridor, calling after Mark who stood in conversation with Jack.
"Steve? Is everything ok?" The urgency in Steve's voice obviously had not gone unnoticed, and Mark's concern was clear.
"There have been others. Lots of others. So many of them I can't remember their names." Steve's voice was breathy, hyped with a vehement intensity.
"What?" both Mark and Jack looked confused.
"The murderer. He's done it before." Steve held aloft a handful of files.
A few minutes later Mark, Steve, Jack and Amanda were assembled around the table in the doctor's lounge. The wooden surface was littered with photos, police reports and details of autopsies. Steve had filled the others in on his findings, and each had responded in unified shock and disgust.
"I can't believe there have been so many." Amanda whispered, shaking her head.
"I make it twenty-two people so far. How can anyone kill twenty-two people?" Jack frowned in disbelief, staring fixedly at the numerous crime scene photos that depicted the horror of the crimes in all their glory.
"And those are only the ones that we know of," Mark responded gravely thumbing through one of the files. "Who knows how many others there have been?"
Steve ran a hand wearily over his face. "I don't know. I've already sent out the MO to other cities to see if they have anything that matches up with our guy."
"What if…" Amanda started, before trailing off. She pursed her lips in obvious deep thought.
The others looked at her expectantly.
Finally Jack could take the silence no longer.
"Well what?"
"I was just thinking… What if… what if we assume that these are the only victims?"
"There's no way we can know that." Steve interrupted.
"I know, but… but what if they are? I've never been involved in a case with a serial killer before..." She stopped, looking at Steve for some kind of response having heard about the previous day's outburst over their repeated interference, but finding none forthcoming she continued.
"Well, serial killers have a compulsion to kill, I don't know why, maybe they're born with it. But something has to happen to make them cross the line from wanting to kill, to actually doing it."
"I see what you're getting at." Mark said having caught on to Amanda's line of thinking. "If we date these murders to the earliest chronologically – it might just lead us to a link with the killer."
"Very good," Mark leant back in his chair smiling soberly. "All leads are worth investigating at this point. Especially," Mark added, "as it looks like we have a new pattern to contend with."
Amanda, Steve and Jack looked at him with interest.
"In each area there were six murders, all within the space of eight months before they appeared to stop. But, as Steve already told us – serial killers don't stop. They can't. They just move on."
"Six murders?" Steve reached out a hand and took from his father the file he was holding. He had read through the information himself and despite the obvious pattern he had failed to notice it.
"Always six in each area. There have been four in the past six months, so…" Mark was cut short by Steve.
"So that means unless we can solve this within the next month, two more people will be dead and the killer will have moved on somewhere new. Somewhere no one will be looking for him. Somewhere he can start the pattern all over again."