Page 11 of Race to Save Her

“Well… my alarm went off at 6 a.m.”

“You can skip past that,” she said, her patience being tested. “I don’t think I need to tell you that this is a serious situation.” Katie glanced at Eva, diligently documenting the area; John had trained her well.

“Of course… I usually run three times a week and on Saturdays. I woke up at 6 a.m. and drove to work, six hours before my shift. I took a run of five miles… I came down Heritage Road from the firehouse and decided to change it up and come here.” Pointing up the road, he said, “There’s a trail that goes up the ridge and I thought it would be a great morning to take that route, but… as I came by here, something caught my eye, and as I moved closer… well… you know the rest.” He smiled and crossed his arms, becoming closed off, as if to indicate that was all he was going to say.

“Did you see anyone else, a car, or someone walking?” she said.

“No. It was a nice quiet morning.”

“I see. Thank you.” Katie turned to leave.

“Is that it? You don’t need to interrogate me to find out what I had for breakfast or anything?”

Katie swung back to face him and shook her head. She wasn’t going to play his game. She had an investigation that needed solving.

Back with Deputy Anderson, she said, “I’m going to run Cisco to see if I can find where the perp entered the area. Would you be available to be my cover officer? McGaven is still on vacation and⁠—”

“Yes,” the deputy said with enthusiasm. His eyes danced around the scene. When he smiled he looked like a boy.

“Let your sergeant know and I’ll meet you back here in two hours.”

He nodded and looked at his watch.

Katie then spoke with Eva and the other deputy. She wanted to make sure the scene would be secured until she returned with Cisco. They said it would and she thanked them.

Katie climbed into the police sedan. She’d head to the department to exchange the vehicle for her Jeep. They should be done with examining it by now. Then she’d pick up Cisco.

Her brow furrowed as she drove. The crime scene disturbed her, not only because it was a human appendage, but because she was certain there were more to come. Her gut told her the direction in which the arm and hand was pointed had meaning—as if telling her where to look.

SEVEN

Saturday 1035 hours

The machines ran with quiet efficiency as the gallon-sized stainless-steel containers hummed. The room adjacent to the main area was where the magic happened. They were filled with perfect fluids—perfect in every way. The Puzzler stood in the middle of the room admiring his handiwork and his ambition. No job would ever compare to what he had created here.

There were crimson drops on the floor that immediately caught his eye. He quickly investigated by putting two fingers on the sterile white floor and dabbing them. Then he brought his fingertips to his mouth and licked them. It was almost perfectly between salty and sweet.

His liking for the taste of blood was referred to as hematophilia. It fed his sexual fetish for plasma, which he associated with finding the perfect woman he desperately needed. It was something he’d had a taste for ever since he first cut his finger as a boy—he never forgot that day.

EIGHT

Saturday 1230 hours

Katie managed to take care of everything, including switching back to her personal vehicle at the station and quickly going home to get Cisco ready for the search. Their focus would be tracking and finding out where the suspect entered and exited the crime scene. There was no indication they’d approached it head-on or from the road—Katie was determined to find out how they had.

Once Katie parked, Cisco excitedly moved from window to window. She stepped out of the Jeep wearing more appropriate clothing for a search: tactical training attire with heavy pants and her utility belt. She had put in a phone call to the owner of the property, Martin Sills, and left her name and phone number with a message to say she would be on his property near Heritage Road. Since it was exigent circumstances—a body part resulting in a crime scene—searching the nearby field was justified.

Deputy Anderson approached her. He was now dressed in khakis and a heavy, long-sleeved shirt. He still wore his sidearm and appeared to be ready for anything.

“Hi, Anderson,” she said.

“Detective.” He nodded. He seemed to be a bit nervous, but was trying to hide it.

“Have you ever done this before?” she said.

“I was cover officer for the K9 unit a couple of times with a fleeing subject.”

“Okay,” she said. “This is a trailing type of assignment. I’m trying to track where the perpetrator entered and exited the scene. It’s important to stay behind and out of the dog’s wind tunnels.”