Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [505]
“When a killer uses something out of the ordinary like this it’s often because he has it handy. It may be a way for you to track him down.”
“A piece of paper?”
“Sometimes it’s the simplest things that lead us to a killer. What we might otherwise think is an insignificant piece of evidence. A serial killer named John Joubert used a strange piece of rope. It had unusual fibers. I think it was made in Korea, not something just anyone would have around the house. He tied up his young victims with it. When they arrested Joubert they found more of the rope in the trunk of his car. The rope was something he had access to as a scoutmaster. He had plenty of it handy and he never considered that it might be something that would be used to finger him. Whatever this white paper is, I’m guessing this killer has plenty of it available to him.”
“Okay.” Henry still didn’t sound convinced. “But what the hell is he using it for?”
“I need to see more of the victims, but my guess right now…” O’Dell hesitated, looking around the group as if deciding whether or not to share her opinion. “My early guess is that he’s using it to temporarily wrap things.”
“Things,” Henry chided as if impatient.
“Yes, things like Mr. Earlman’s brain.”
CHAPTER 22
Maggie accepted the Diet Coke Sheriff Watermeier offered. She preferred Diet Pepsi, but knew this was a sort of peace offering. As the others finished their lunches, Watermeier sat down next to her on the boulder.
“When we finish later this afternoon, I need to take a minute and throw a bone to those media piranhas.” He smiled, pleased with his own pun. “Then Stolz says he’ll do the autopsy of the woman we found yesterday. That suit your time schedule?”
“Yes, of course.”
He continued to sit quietly at her side, and she wondered if there was something more he needed to tell her, something more he wanted to share.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”
She glanced at him, surprised. That wasn’t exactly what she expected from the rough-and-tough, ex-NYPD-turned-small-town sheriff.
She followed his eyes, taking it in for the first time since she had arrived. Maggie couldn’t help thinking how quiet it was. The trees were still thick with splashes of orange and yellow with flaming red vines licking up the trunks. And the sky seemed so blue it looked artificial. Even the ankle-high grass was dotted with tiny yellow flowers.
“Yes,” she finally agreed. “It is beautiful.”
“Everybody ready?” Watermeier broke the momentary peace, standing suddenly as though he needed to snap back to attention.
They joined the others where Adam Bonzado and his students had brought down another cracked barrel. This time Maggie pulled her jacket up over her nose. Already the stench was overbearing and the pry bar had only broken the seal. Despite Bonzado’s effort the drum’s lid came undone bit by squeaky bit, reminding Maggie of opening a lid off a vacuum-sealed can of coffee.
“Man, oh man, this one is ripe,” the professor said, and stopped, his hands still clenching the pry bar while he wiped at his face with the bottom of his shirt, revealing for a second or two rock-hard abs. Maggie looked away, realizing that this was the second time in only hours that she had taken notice of his physique.
The rest of them waited. No one offered to take over for the poor professor. Not any of his three students. The one named Joe kept a safe distance, while the woman, Ramona, seemed interested but cautious. The older student Simon, stood quietly, almost rigid with a trowel in one hand and a camera in the other, making no effort to use either. He seemed stunned or perhaps overwhelmed by the sight. Maybe it was the stench.
“Should we be cutting these barrels open?” Watermeier suggested.
“With what?” Stolz swabbed at his forehead, which had been constantly shiny with sweat. “Anything we use could contaminate what’s inside more than it already is. Let’s at least see what’s in these barrels before we go hauling all of them away. I don’t want a dozen barrels