Chapter 21

After parking their vehicle out the front on number 2136, Tom popped the trunk and retrieved their crime scene kit before making their way into the property.

Tom and Frank’s eyes met knowingly when they noticed the gathering of uncollected daily newspapers on the front yard. Tom lifted the mailbox lid and removed the collection of envelopes.

The postal date stamps on each envelope suggested the mail had been accumulating for around three weeks.

Tom lifted the envelopes to Frank. ‘Three weeks of mail…’ he said. ‘We’re definitely about to discover victim number four…’

After confirming the front door was still secured, they made their way around the back.

Their eyes met when the unmistakable and overpowering odor of rotting flesh greeted them, as they rounded the side of the house into the back yard.

Tom removed a latex glove from his pocket and checked the rear sliding glass patio door. It was unlocked. Both men took a moment to slide their latex gloves onto their hands and slipped on their boot covers.

After slowly sliding open the rear door, Tom started to enter the house. He suddenly retreated and lunged to his left. His hands fell onto his knees while he sucked in deep breaths. He had inhaled a nose full of the putrid stench pervading the entire closed up house.

Frank watched on with concern at Tom’s reaction. He slid the glass door all the way open to allow some fresh air to flow in and hopefully, force the putrescence out.

Tom retrieved two protective breathing face masks from their kit and lobbed one to Frank. He returned to his kit where he continued to rummage around inside before removing a small bottle of after shave cologne.

He splashed some of the cologne onto the inside of his face mask. When he was done, he lobbed the bottle to Frank, who did the same.

With masks in place and torches in hand, both men cautiously entered the premises, in search of the source of the offensive odor. The interior light was on in the kitchen–family room area.

Hundreds of blow flies buzzed and swooped about the Detectives’ heads, as they made their way to the kitchen, where they encountered the gruesome sight of a body lying on the floor.

The victim’s bloated and swollen body had reached black putrefaction stage and was infested with insect larvae and pupae. Her hands were fastened together with black duct tape, however the body’s fluid leakage and rupturing skin had caused the strips of duct tape over her mouth and eyes to partially lift.

Despite their best preventative efforts, the overpowering smell of decaying flesh still managed to penetrate their cologne soaked masks.

Frank lifted a photo frame from the kitchen bench. It contained what appeared to be a family photo. He held it out to Tom and pointed to whom he assumed was Heidi in the photo. ’There is no way known we can tell if this is her…’ He lifted his chin to the body on the floor. ‘She is completely unrecognizable.’

‘Chances are, it is her though,’ Tom said. Frank replaced the picture.

Tom removed his cell phone and called in the discovery. He requested the attendance of uniform officers to secure the crime scene perimeter, Crime Scene officers and the ME. He also requested a Forensic Entomologist.

To their forensically untrained eye, the victim’s body told them nothing. They would have to wait for the entomologist to determine time of death, and for the ME to determine the cause of death, if the victim was raped and if this was the primary murder scene.

After a thorough check of the kitchen and remaining rooms in the house, both men stepped outside the back door, onto the pool patio area and removed their face masks.

They sucked in deep breaths to try and purge any of the bacteria-filled air they may have inhaled. They moved towards the cliff side of the patio.

After briefly admiring the scenic cliff top vista on offer from the poolside patio, Frank shifted his focus back to the house. He gestured to the outside spot lights. ‘I wonder if our killer knocked on the back door…’ he said. ‘The outside lights are on.’

Tom scanned the numerous lights located on the house and around the pool patio. ‘Possibly…Are you thinking she turned the light on to see who was there when he knocked?’

Frank nodded. ‘Maybe.’

‘What sort of visitor goes to the back door…?’ Tom asked.

Frank thought for a moment. ‘Someone well known to the victim. Maybe she was expecting him and told him to come around back.’

‘OK…but why, unless of course it was a warm night and she was sitting out back by the pool.’

‘Anything is possible at this early stage,’ Frank concluded.

Tom made his way to the front yard, while Frank remained in the back yard, to ensure there was no unauthorized entry into the crime scene.

In the front yard, Tom gathered up the collection of daily newspapers and chronologically sorted through the dates. He was able to ascertain that the newspaper delivered on the Saturday after the Schwarz family left on holiday was the earliest date.

From this he could deduce one of two possible scenarios. The first was that Heidi was killed on the Friday night after her family left, leaving Saturday morning’s paper – and every one thereafter uncollected. Or, she was tardy in collecting the daily newspaper in the days before she was killed.

Once all the requested crime scene assistance had arrived and became established, Tom and Frank completed their initial crime scene inquiries and moved to commence their neighborhood door knock.

They would have to wait for positive confirmation of the victim’s identity before they could notify the Schwarz family on holiday in Australia.

It was an identification process that was a mere formality to Tom and Frank.

The whiteboard in Tom and Frank’s office had grown to four photos. That’s four everyday reminders that this thing was slowly getting away from them. That’s four families who would have one less person at their Thanksgiving dinner table this year, and what’s worse, they were no closer to finding out who was responsible, or what the killer’s motivation was.

Tom rubbed a thoughtful hand across the back of his neck as he sat at his desk reviewing the information on all four victims. Something wasn’t adding up. Every crime scene was too clean. There was not one piece of trace, or transfer, no epithelial evidence, hair, blood, semen — nothing at all.

There were no witnesses, no defensive wounds and no forced entry into the homes. Can a psychopathic, misogynistic murderer targeting young single women be so lucky after four murders, or was he that well organized with a current knowledge of crime scene examination?

The Forensic Entomologist established the latest victim–Heidi Schwarz, had been dead for twenty-five days before she was found. This put her time of death around the time her family flew out to Australia.

‘That timeline suggested that Heidi Schwarz was in fact, the 3rd victim, and was killed nine days before Felicity Chapman,’ Tom said.

Frank nodded. ‘The time line is erratic. There is no system of time between murders,’ he said.

Tom studied the whiteboard. ‘This would ordinarily suggest random and desperation, rather than well planned. But the execution is too meticulous, almost precision like, with not a drop of evidence,’ Tom said. ‘Random killings could not continually deliver up that sort of consistency. No…’ Tom shook his head, ‘These had to be well planned killings. But how does he select the victims?’

As expected, the Coroner’s report verified the latest victim, Heidi Schwarz had been raped and strangled. The absence of defensive wounds was consistent with the three other victims. Crime Scene investigators once again declared a clean crime scene.

The only common link between each victim was their gym membership at Club Fitness in Bay Park. While this was a strong lead, all the male employees and male gym members who attended the gym at similar times to the victims, were all interviewed and, much to Tom and Frank’s increasing frustration, all were cleared of any suspicion.

‘What’s up partner?’ Frank asked, noticing the concerned expression on Tom’s face.

Tom met Frank’s gaze. He sighed and slumped back in his chair. ‘I don’t know…’ He shook his head. ‘I just don’t like it. Something doesn’t add up.’

‘Apart from the obvious…’ Frank began. ‘What is it specifically that you don’t like?’

‘Everything…The crimes scenes are consistently too clean. The killer strikes the day after Heidi’s family left for overseas. Wouldn’t that suggest he had to know Heidi’s family was leaving for vacation…He struck later that night…or early the next day.’

‘Not necessarily…’ Frank said.

‘How do you figure?’ Tom asked.

‘Well…if the killer knew the family was leaving for a four week vacation, why did he have to strike the very next night…? He had the best part of four weeks to plan and kill her.’

‘Probably the same thing that’s been driving him from the start – uncontrollable urges to rape and kill young women who are on their own,’ Tom suggested.

‘What about a neighbor…? Excited neighbors tell one another when they are taking vacations…especially to Australia,’ Frank suggested.

‘Yeah, but…’ Tom’s face distorted. He shook his head. ‘Too close to home… It won’t be a neighbor,’ Tom predicted. Frank nodded his agreement.

Tom checked the date on his desk calendar. It had been two weeks since Heidi was found. If there was going to be another victim, the trend line to date suggested it could be any time soon. And they had nothing.

‘I wanna try something out…’ Tom began. ‘Let’s test out your seven mile radius theory.’

‘OK.’

’Do you think you can get me a list of the names of all law enforcement personnel who reside in the seven mile radius from the Club Fitness gym? Include everyone; Crime Scene, Forensics, photographers, DEA, FBI, ATF, anyone who draws a law enforcement check.’

‘So…you’re still thinking it could be a cop…?’ Frank asked.

‘I haven’t stopped thinking that,’ Tom advised. ‘But hopefully I’m wrong and we can move on.’

‘OK. I’ll see what I can do,’ Frank said.

Chapter 22

In a twisted and somewhat perverted way, Matt was quietly enjoying the timely and increasing publicity the killing spree was gaining. The media was calling the murders The Coastal Killings.

While they were busy propagating the persona and causing panic among the young females of the area, Matt’s newspaper collection continued to grow.

The more media coverage there was of the murders, the more pressure this put on the investigating police. The more pressure that was applied, the more desperate they became for anything that would remotely resemble evidence.

Slip in a timely fingerprint at a crime scene and leave a collection of newspaper clippings in the house of the person to whom the fingerprint belonged, and the SDPD would snatch at it like a rope thrown to a drowning man.

He scoffed at the feeble attempts by the lead Detective, Tom Carter from SDPD Homicide, to reassure the public, via scheduled TV news interviews, that the SDPD were doing everything they could to catch this person.

All young females were urged to lock their doors and windows and to travel in groups for their own safety. “Look after your friends”, was the message he conveyed.

Unfortunately for Tom, the media weren’t buying it. Four murders in three months was too many — too soon. The media sensationalism stirred up a panicked frenzy, not to improve the safety of women in San Diego, but to sell papers and improve TV news ratings.

Matt never liked Carter and he enjoyed watching him squirm in front of the bright lights of the TV cameras. He loved how Carter appeared out of his depth in this one.

He k new that, based on Carter’s reactions in the media, it wouldn’t be long before they screamed out for help.

He smirked at the vision of Carter on his TV screen trying to reassure the public. You have no idea who is responsible. In a twisted, even sinister way, that pleased him.

Twenty-one year old Harper Bourke, a psychology major at UCSD, anxiously glanced at her watch as she sped to her weekly girl’s night out in Clairemont Mesa.

The time was 8.30pm and she was thirty minutes late. She had received three, “Where are you?” text messages from her friends during this time.

Her weekly Thursday night ritual was to meet with her girlfriends, Madison, Zoey, Leah and Elli at 8pm for social drinks at the Where the Action Is Sports Bar.

Thursday night at the bar was known as University Night and with half price drinks for all University students, it was always a popular place to be.

She had carefully maneuvered her car into the bar’s supermarket-style, off road parking lot, when her cell phone rang. The smiling photo of her friend Zoey illuminated her phone’s display. She answered the call.

‘Hi Zee…Just pulling into the parking lot now,’ she said. ‘Order me a Vodka and Cranberry and I’ll be about two minutes.’

‘Okie Dokie…We’re over in our usual spot,’ Zoey said, before disconnecting the call.

Their usual spot was sitting on the four black leather, two-seater sofas positioned in a square formation around a coffee table, out-of-the-way in the far left corner of the room. This area was a little quieter for the girls to sit and chat.

With the night being so popular, and with her running so late, most of the off road parking spaces were already taken when she arrived.

As she rolled her vehicle through the various car parking lanes, her eyes were peeled for that one elusive parking space.

After completing a circuit of the front parking bays she drove around the side of the bar. She quickly accelerated when saw one free space ahead on the left.

Once she had parked and secured her pride and joy – her light blue VW Passat, she made her way back to the front of the building and into the bar.

Stepping through the front doors into the bar was like stepping into an oversized modern day man-cave. Twelve 32 inch flat screen TVs arranged in three rows of four, lined the entire wall to the left.

Replays and live games from most US sports played across all monitors to the raucous cheers of the many onlookers. Men’s NCAA basketball, NCAA football and baseball, games from the National Football League, Major League Baseball and National Basketball Association were all available for the sports junkie to view simultaneously.

To the right of the front door was the bar area, the most popular place in the room. Patrons jostled and pushed one another from as many as four, or five deep waiting to be served their choice of half-price alcoholic refreshment by the babes behind the bar, as they were affectionately known.

Beyond the bar, on the same side of the room, was the restaurant/café area, or as it was colloquially known, the “Breastaurant”, because of the sexy, cleavage revealing uniforms worn by the female staff, who provided table service meals.

The barmaids and waitresses were all beautiful young women with tanned and fit figures. Their tiny white shirts tied off just below their ample breasts and purposely gaped wide open to expose their lacy black push up bras and bulging tanned cleavages.

Their golden brown, flat stomachs were exposed all the way down to their tight and very short black skirts, seductively worn well below their hips to complement their eye-catching ensemble.

The noise in the bar was loud and garbled, but the atmosphere was fantastic. Everybody knew everybody as Thursday night regulars.

Crammed full with drunken students representing each of San Diego’s Universities, the bar was a popular place to go to watch the college ball games on the multitude of TV screens, or just to soak up the atmosphere and chat socially with friends.

The girls were there for all of the above – as well as the cheap drinks.

Harper smiled in acknowledgement to some, others she greeted with a standard “hi” as she edged her way through the crowded floor to their ‘usual spot’.

Although plain featured, there was something about her that was appealing. With long brown hair framing her face and with high cheek bones and a pleasant smile that displayed her perfect brilliant white teeth, you could say she was noticeably pretty, in an average girl-next-door sort of way.

Harper wore a spearmint colored button-up, cleavage bulging shirt with a plunging neckline, a short tight fitting black skirt and four inch heels.

She cut a swathe through the area mostly populated by drunken males, jostling for the best vantage point from which to watch the games and the alluring bar maids in their revealing scantily clad uniforms.

After finally arriving at their little haven in corner of the bar, Harper’s friends leaped up from their leather sofas and ran around the back of the chairs where they each greeted her with a welcoming kiss and a warming hug.

Zoey handed Harper a vodka and cranberry in a long glass, as requested. As the girls returned to their leather sofas Harper jabbed a thumb over shoulder, towards the heavily male populated floor space in the middle of the bar.

‘I got pinched on the butt twice, proposed to, both of my breasts were grabbed — at different times, I was felt up, asked if I was wearing knickers and one guy even asked me to suck his dick… all in the short distance from the door to here… Do you believe that shit?’ she asked her friends collectively. Each friend showed a supporting look of disgust.

Suddenly a huge grin emerged across her face. ’God bless ‘em… I think I might go back and walk through there again.’ She laughed at her own humor, then lifted her glass in toast and took a sip.

Throughout the course of the night, each girl took turns at fighting the hordes of revelers gathered around the bar for their turn to purchase the next round of drinks.

By the time the girls had bought two rounds of drinks each, Madison and Elli had separately attracted some male attention and were busy with close talking conversation and physical flirting.

Harper checked the time on her watch. She caught Zoey’s eye and smiled as she tapped her watch. She then jabbed a thumb towards the door.

Zoey shook her head at Harper. ‘No…you can’t go yet…it’s only 11.30.’ Zoey flicked her finger towards Madison and Elli. ‘What am I supposed to do if you go…Those two are busy?’

Harper smiled as she approached Zoey and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m the only one who has class tomorrow morning…you guys can sleep in…Besides, it doesn’t look like I’m getting lucky tonight,’ she said with a beaming smile, as she removed her car keys from her purse.

After separately catching the attention of Maddie and Elli, she blew each one a kiss, followed by a wave. Each girl instinctively looked at their watches in response. An understanding smile emerged on their faces before each girl responded by blowing a kiss back to their friend.

With keys in hand Harper made her way to the front door on her way home, while her friends reluctantly watched her leave.

The drunken revelers on the main floor appeared to part and accept her as she approached the crowded floor area, before closing right back up behind her again, swallowing her up from view.

As 1am neared Maddie and Elli each informed Zoey their new male acquaintances would be taking them home that night. This now meant that Zoey, who drove the two girls to the bar, would be driving home alone.

All three girls, with the two new male interests in tow, left the bar together and made their way to their respective vehicles. Unlike earlier in the night, the parking lot was now almost deserted, with very few vehicles remaining.

Zoey said her goodbyes and drove her vehicle towards the parking lot exit down the side of the bar. As she crawled towards the exit she noticed a familiar vehicle parked off to her left. It was Harper’s blue VW Passat. Zoey checked her watch. ‘What is that still doing there?’ she mumbled to herself.

She parked behind Harper’s vehicle and quickly jumped out to check Harper hadn’t fallen asleep inside her vehicle. No-one was inside and the car was locked.

Zoey stood with a thoughtful hand on her forehead scanning what was now an empty parking lot. Harper left about 1 ½ hours ago.

Returning to her car, Zoey retrieved her cell phone from her purse and called Harper. The call went to voice mail.

‘Hi Hun…it‘s just me. Call me as soon as you get this OK…I’m a little worried you are alright.’

After disconnecting the call Zoey sent a text message to Harper, similar to the voice message she just left, just to cover all bases.

While she considered her next move, a vehicle in which Maddie and Elli were passengers, approached Zoey on its way to the exit. Zoey noticed her friends and waved the car down. When the vehicle stopped, Maddie and Ellie quickly alighted from the car.

After a quick update from Zoey the girls decided to send their new male friends on their way while they remained with Zoey to consider what to do next. They all agreed this did not look good.

With Zoey and Harper sharing an on-campus apartment in the Student Village, they decided to drive back to their apartment to see if Harper was there.

Chapter 23

One of the down sides of working in Homicide was the requirement to be on call. Sleep interruption and sleep deprivation were just part of the job. If a call came in – regardless of the time of the day, or night, you had to attend.

It was 2am when Tom Carter received the call from SDPD in relation to concerns over Harper Bourke’s whereabouts.

’Harper is a twenty-one year old university student who left the Where the Action Is bar in Clairmemont Mesa on her own at 11.30pm and had not been seen since,’ the uniform cop said. ’Her locked car was found in the parking lot when her friends left about 1am. She is not answering her phone and she is not at her home.

‘The spare set of keys to her vehicle were retrieved from Harper’s university apartment by her roommate and it appears that Harper’s vehicle had been tampered with,’ the uniform cop said.

While there was no body and no indication of any murder, and despite his wakening senses, Tom was well aware that everything pointed towards another victim in the media branded Coastal Killings.

‘OK. Tape off the area and arrange for crime scene fingerprints to be taken,’ he instructed the cop.

After calling Frank, Tom drove by to pick him up on the way to Harper’s vehicle.

Upon his arrival at the parking lot the uniform police updated Tom and Frank of their concerns and inquiries. They also indicated to them Harper’s three friends who were seated in the back of a nearby black and white.

Tom approached the girls to ask some initial questions to help gain an understanding of what went down.

The response that resonated with him the most was when he asked if Harper was the member of a gym. The girls told him they were all members of the same gym – Club Fitness in Bay Park. He knew right then, this was not going to end well.

After slapping on some latex gloves, Tom lifted the hood and examined the engine of Harper’s vehicle. Neither Tom nor Frank knew anything about vehicle engines, but it was evident that the unattached leads sitting loosely on the engine block should have been attached, somewhere, more than likely to the distributor cap and spark plugs.

Tom accessed the vehicle and tried to start the car using the spare key. Nothing. As expected, it wouldn’t start.

After alighting from the vehicle, Tom approached Frank. ‘Don’t tell me our perp has moved to immobilizing vehicles to get his victims,’ Frank said.

‘I was thinking the same thing…’ Tom said. ‘But if her car wouldn’t start after leaving the bar…’ Tom’s focus shifted to the concerned friends in the back seat of the black and white. ‘Why not give them a call…’ He lifted his chin towards her friends in the police car. ‘Or go back inside and get a ride from them. You don’t just jump into the car of someone who happens to drive by offering to give you a ride home.’

‘Unless she knew the driver…or if she didn’t know the driver…trusted the driver,’ Frank suggested.

Tom’s eyes met Frank’s. ‘You mean…Like an off duty cop…?’

Frank shrugged. ‘Could be…’

Once Harper’s vehicle had been dusted for prints by the Crime Scene Unit, and after exhausting all possible inquiries at the bar and parking lot, including available Bar CCTV footage, Tom and Frank returned to their office.

It was too late in the morning to consider returning to bed. Their first interest was to peruse the list of law enforcement personnel who resided within a seven mile radius of the Bay Park gym.

Their Lieutenant, Bob Winter had liaised with the FBI and sought their assistance in researching the list from records they were able to access in such circumstances.

A list of seven names had since been provided. After removing all females from the list, the number was reduced to four law enforcement names of interest. However, once the shift roster of each man was consulted, none of the four remaining names were off the clock at, or around the time of all four murders.

Much to their growing frustrations, they were no closer to finding out who was hunting these young women of San Diego.

The rising sun had not long heralded in the new day when sixty-five year old retiree, Bob Garland set off from his La Jolla home on his daily early morning walk. With him was his trusted and loyal best friend, ‘Westy’; his six year old white West Highland Terrier.

With Westy’s lead in place they stepped out on to his tree lined street. Bob’s eyes lifted to the clear blue sky. He smiled to himself then inhaled a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs.

He briefly closed his eyes while he listened to the orchestral sounds of young birds chirping in the trees overhead.

This particular Friday morning was fine and clear and there was no wind to speak of, so Bob decided to walk along the Coast Walk Trail, which took him around the popular elevated cliffs overlooking the La Jolla Shore line.

The panoramic views on offer from the cliff tops were magnificent and whenever the wind was low and the weather was fine, Bob always included this route on his daily walk.

Early morning was the favorite time of the day for Bob. Not only because the air was fresh and crisp, but also because of the solitude. It was too early for nine-to-five office workers who tried to get in a few miles before work.

When the tracks and paths were quiet from other foot traffic, Bob let Westy off his lead, so his trusty companion could run free.

Like a proud parent watching over a young child playing in the park, Bob watched his faithful friend running along the cliff tops, unrestrained.

He smiled at his dog’s puppy-like excitement, bounding through all the long grasses like a young fawn, stopping to mark his territory, or taking in all the new smells. It all added to the enjoyment of Bob’s morning strolls.

While Bob wound his way back home along the cliff top Coast Walk Trail, he was momentarily distracted while taking in the elevated scenic vista. His eyes drifted from the sheer jagged cliffs bordering the shoreline, out to the vast turquoise waters of the Pacific Ocean, extending as far as the eye could see.

After shifting his focus back to the track in front of him, he scanned the area for his little companion. Usually Westy would be darting in and out of shrubs, running back to Bob to check he was still coming, before racing off ahead of him again. But this time he was nowhere to be seen.

Bob whistled through his fingers. Westy always responded to his shrieking whistle. But he didn’t come. Poor old Bob started to panic. This was completely out of character for his loyal dog.

He called out for his dog as he continued to wander along the path. His frowning eyes scanned searchingly for any sign of his little companion.

As he rounded a bend in the path, he caught sight of his white haired Westy, off to the left. The dog’s head was under an overgrown shrub. Bob immediately started to relax.

‘There you are,’ he said to himself. ‘Westy. Come here boy,’ Bob called. ‘Come on boy…You had me worried. What are you doing…?’ he asked.

While he remained on the path, he continued to call his dog, but Westy continued to ignore being summoned. Something under the shrub had the normally obedient Westy’s attention and he was not moving away from it.

Begrudgingly, Bob left the sealed pathway and started to high step through the long grass towards his disobedient dog.

‘WESTY!’ He yelled, this time more firmly.

Westy lifted his head and looked towards the approaching Bob. ‘Come on boy,’ Bob tapped his thighs. But the dog remained.

‘Right…’ he said firmly. He marched over to his dog. ‘That’s the last time you’ll be let off your lead, young man,’ he said.

As he neared, he noticed something in front of his dog. ‘What have you got there boy?’ he asked.

Bob froze in his tracks. His face tightened when he saw what looked like legs poking out from under the shrub. He held a hand to his mouth.

After a brief moment to compose himself, Bob cautiously edged closer to the legs. He lifted up the shrub’s foliage to look further underneath.

Once his ageing eyes focused and allowed him to register what he was actually looking at, he let go of the foliage and reeled back in fright. The usual rosy red hue of his face was now a pallid washed out grey-white.

He froze in his tracks. He had never seen a dead body before, but he knew what he had just seen was the body of a young female under that shrub.

Fortunately, on his wife’s insistence, Bob always carried his cell phone with him, in case anything happened to him during his daily walk.

He quickly dialed 9-1-1 and reported his grisly find.

Tom and Frank had been in the office since about 3am Friday morning, having been called out to the possible disappearance of Harper Bourke. It was now about 6.30am when their office police communications caught their attention.

A black and white was being sent to the Coast Walk Trail in La Jolla, following the discovery of a young female’s body under a track side bush, by an elderly man walking his dog.

Tom and Frank exchanged concerned gazes. Tom’s shoulders slumped slightly in realization. ’Harper Bourke…?′ Tom said as a knowing question.

Frank nodded. ‘Victim number five,’ he said.

Tom rolled his eyes then glanced towards the white board. He quickly looked away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the victims’ faces smiling back at him, knowing there would soon be an addition to the growing gallery.

‘Shit,’ Tom blurted in frustration. He rubbed a hand through his hair.

He lifted the photograph of Harper from his desk that Zoey had given him and slipped it into his folder. He pushed himself up from his seat and lifted his jacket from the back of his chair. Frank was in the process of doing the same. Neither man had to announce the fact they were heading to La Jolla.

Chapter 24

By the time the Detectives arrived at the cliff top crime scene, the uniform police were in the process of cordoning off a taped perimeter. With boot covers slipped over their shoes, Tom and Frank made their way to the latest body.

It was becoming all too repetitive for the Detectives. The photograph Tom had with him from Zoey, unofficially confirmed the body was that of Harper Bourke. And the duct tape securing her wrists, as well as over her mouth and eyes confirmed she was the Coastal Killings’ unfortunate victim number five.

Tom stood back up from peering under the thick, low hanging shrub that had temporarily entombed Harper’s body. His eyes scanned the ground around the shrub. ‘This can’t be the primary…’ he said. ‘Which means…he raped and strangled her somewhere else and then carried her body here to dump it.’

‘Maybe his car,’ Frank considered.

Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t think so…’ he said as he continued to scan the ground for any indication of footprints, or other evidence. ‘This guy’s too careful. He wouldn’t want any transfer, or trace evidence from the vic left in his car. That would be too careless.’

‘But for someone so careful, he is taking a huge risk carrying the body out here to dump it,’ Frank said.

‘You’re right…he is,’ Tom said. ‘But in reality, how many people would you expect to be out here in the early hours of the morning? What continues to puzzle me is…how is he finding these victims? Why Harper? She didn’t live on her own. She lived on campus with another young university student,’ Tom said.

‘Would have to be because she drove to the bar on her own,’ Frank said.

‘OK…that I understand…’ Tom said, flicking the stubble on his unshaven face. ‘But how did our perp know Harper drove to the bar on her own last night? The girls usually all travel in one vehicle – except for last night. That was an exception. And…how did he know she would leave the bar on her own? It can’t be all goddamn good luck. I don’t buy it.’

By the time Crime Scene Officers and the Medical Examiner had arrived, a large media throng had gathered at the perimeter tape. TV station News choppers hovered and circled overhead like giant vultures that had caught the scent of carrion.

Tom and Frank intentionally stood back from the body dump site to allow the forensics personnel clear and uninterrupted access.

‘Do you see what’s happening here Frank?’ Tom asked, as both men watched the Crime Scene Officers at work.

‘What’s that?’

‘He’s evolving with every kill. He’s growing in confidence and taking more risks.’ Tom pushed back a finger. ‘Vic one, Wendy Spiteri killed in the privacy of her home.’ He pushed back another finger. ‘Vic two, Bree Gilbert killed in the privacy of her home.’ He pushed back a third finger. ‘Vic three – Heidi Schwarz, killed in the privacy of her home.’

Pushing back another finger, he continued, ’Vic four…’ he said with deliberate emphasis, ‘Felicity Chapman was picked up at a bus stop in Pacific Beach, in front of a witness, then killed somewhere else and dumped in land fill…and now this one,’ he jabbed a thumb towards the shrub. ’Vic number five was taken from a parking lot in Clairemont Mesa and dumped here. The last two have been taken from outside their homes and dumped outside in remote locations…Oh yeah,’ He said nodding for emphasis. ‘This guy’s evolving.’

The Crime Scene Officer approached Tom and Frank having completed his scene examination. ‘Apart from the dog’s paw prints and what I’m confident we will confirm are the dog owner’s shoe prints, there are no other foots prints around the shrub. It’s as though the dirt around the bush was swept.’

‘Probably was,’ Tom said. ‘Anything on the body?’

The CSO shook his head. ‘Nothing…Nada…Looks like she was cleaned up before she was dumped.’

‘Did you lift anything at all from the body?’ Tom asked.

‘You can’t lift what isn’t there Detective,’ The CSO replied, a little too defensively. ‘I’ve done a rape kit and swabs, which I will examine later…but apart from that…’ He turned his palms upwards. ‘This guy’s too good.’

Tom nodded. ‘That’s what’s worrying me,’ he said.

Tom noticed the ageing ME gingerly getting back to his feet, having spent the last thirty minutes on his knees beside the body.

It appeared he had completed his initial examination. He was in the process of returning his instruments and equipment to his kit bag when Tom and Frank approached.

‘So…what do we know, Doc?’ Tom asked.

‘Well Detective…It looks like you have your unfortunate victim number five. Yes…this poor young lass has been raped and strangled,’ The ME said.

Tom’s eyes fell to the lifeless body of Harper. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for Harper lying there. If he had been able to track and catch this crazed killer by now, she would still be alive – but she isn’t.

‘Were you able to establish a TOD?’ Tom asked.

‘I’d estimate she has been dead for about seven hours.’

Tom checked his watch. It was 8.15am. ’We know she left the bar around 11.30pm. By the time she made it to her car and had trouble starting it, would probably make it around midnight.

‘Then our perp just happened to turn up and no doubt offered some assistance before offering her a ride home. They probably left the parking lot around 12.15am. So you estimate she was killed around 1am Doc?’ Tom clarified.

‘At this stage, yes it appears so.’

Tom nodded. ‘That would suggest the perp and Harper spent around forty-five minutes, or so together before he killed her. It’s only around a twelve minute drive back to Harper’s Torrey Pines campus apartment, so what did he do with her before he killed her? Where did they drive?’

‘I must say though, Detective…’ The ME began, which broke Tom’s thoughts. ’Like the other four victims this young woman has considerable trauma to her vaginal area; significant lacerations and extensive contusions. Either your offender is particularly over forceful during the commission of his offences…or he has an abnormally large male appendage that due to its substantial girth, is simply tearing these poor young unwilling victims.’

Tom cringed at the mental image the Doc just gave him. He flicked a finger towards the body. ‘This doesn’t look like our primary, Doc…What were you able to determine there?’

The ME nodded. ‘Ah yes…It’s difficult to determine exactly. The livor mortis has pooled in her lower extremities, but there appears to be a secondary pooling, which suggests the body has been moved,’ the ME said. ‘I would expect that there was very little time from when this young woman was killed to when she was transported here,’ he concluded.

With their initial crime scene inquiries completed, Tom and Frank made their way back to their vehicle. On the way, Tom arranged for the lead first-response uniform officer to arrange a formal ID of Harper’s body, once it had been transported back to the morgue.

As the Detectives approached the inner perimeter tape they stopped to remove their shoe covers and gloves. Tom’s eyes lifted to the outer perimeter tape, which was about fifty yards further on.

News reporters and several cameramen jostled each other for pole position along the crime scene tape, as they awaited the arrival of the approaching Detectives.

With the path snaking along the cliff top, the outer perimeter crime scene tape failed to offer a line of sight to the victim’s body. The reporters could not see anything relating to the crime scene and had to impatiently wait to receive any updates.

Tom discarded his protective clothing items into the waste bin provided, before meeting his colleague’s gaze. ‘Well…let’s get this over with,’ he said as he commenced to walk towards the gathered media.

Such was the eagerness of each reporter to ask the first question, they started yelling their questions at Tom and Frank while they were still more than ten yards away from the perimeter tape. Both men ignored the loud unintelligible garble and kept walking.

With the media crews blocking their egress from the taped off area, Tom and Frank paused momentarily at the crimes scene tape, intentionally failing to meet the gaze of any particular reporter.

The officer on duty lifted the perimeter tape to allow the Detectives to pass under, but they had nowhere to go. The pathway was well and truly blocked. The reporters unceremoniously shoved microphones into the Detectives’ faces while they verbally competed with each other at yelling their overlapping questions at the Detectives.

“Is the victim a young female?”

“Has the Coastal Killer struck again?’

“Is that victim number five?”

“What are you doing to catch this person?”

“How can you reassure the young women of San Diego they are safe?”

“How can you protect the young women of this city?”

Tom flapped his hands at the gathered media to quieten them down. The yelling slowly subsided before ceasing to silence.

Each reporter eagerly waited to hear what the Detective was about to say. Each cameraman hoped to capture the news breaking comments from the lead Detective.

‘I know you are all very keen to report on this latest body and whether it is linked to any of the previous murders. But I can’t tell you that at this time. All I can say is…the body of a female was discovered along the trail behind me. Formal ID has not been carried out and the deceased’s family has not been notified. Therefore I am not prepared to release any further information in relation to the matter at this time. Thank you.’

With that, the loud overlapping questions immediately returned. Reporters yelled their questions over other reporters, while microphones were shoved at the Detectives.

Using his arms as a battering ram, Tom forcefully wedged his way through the gathered media, moving them aside for him to walk through. Frank followed closely behind as they continued relatively unimpeded to their police vehicle.

The cameramen filmed them for a short distance before quickly returning to their position at the perimeter tape.

The cameras were now waiting to capture the compelling footage of the black body bag being wheeled from the scene and loaded into the ME’s van.

The more ghoulish and provocative the footage was, the more newsworthy it became.

Chapter 25

The outpouring of fear among the general public increased exponentially with every murder. The morning TV breakfast shows were interrupted with dramatic news breaks, where they crossed to reporters at the scene of the latest body on the La Jolla cliffs.

Graphic aerial footage from a hovering helicopter of the victim’s body being wheeled along the Coast Walk Trail, filled the TV screens.

The Mayor quickly responded by telephoning Lieutenant Bob Winter demanding a report on the investigation’s progress. Lieutenant Winter could only sit and listen to the barrage of questions and comments from an irate Mayor.

‘The public of San Diego need to know they are safe. Fathers need to know their young daughters are safe. What are you doing to catch this depraved individual?’ the Mayor asked.

‘We are doing everything we can, Sir. I have my best team on it.’

‘Are resources being adequately deployed? Could more resources be better utilized?’

‘We have adequate resources on this case. They are working around the clock to catch this guy,’ the Lieutenant reassured.

‘How far are you away from stopping this person?’

The Lieutenant paused before answering. They had no idea who was committing these murders. But what he told the Mayor was, ‘we are well advanced in our investigation and we believe we have a possible suspect.’ Of course he lied to buy time and save face.

---

Upon their return to the station from the scene, Tom and Frank were immediately summoned to Lieutenant Winter’s office. Like the Mayor, he was not happy and demanded answers on the progress of the case.

Winter stood at his desk with his hands on his hips when the Detectives entered his office. The frown and furrowed brow that greeted them immediately indicated he was clearly pissed. Winter flicked a hand towards the door. ‘Shut the door,’ he ordered.

He then flicked a hand at the visitors’ chairs at his desk. ‘Sit,’ he instructed before falling back into his own, high-back leather chair.

Tom and Frank slid into the chairs opposite the Lieutenant and sat silently before him, like two troublesome high school students summoned to the principal’s office, awaiting their fate.

‘I’ve just had the Mayor squeezing my nuts over these killings. I had to tell him we have a possible suspect so he would release the grip on my balls. Tell me this…was the body this morning…vic number five?’

Tom nodded. ‘Unfortunately…yes it was.’

The Lieutenant rolled his eyes. ‘OK. What do we know?’

‘Not a lot Boss,’ Tom reluctantly admitted.

‘Please tell me you have something, gentlemen. You have to give me something that I can give to the Mayor,’ The Lieutenant pleaded. ‘Do we have a profile…? Anything at all?’

Tom’s eyes fell heavily to the desk. He exhaled slow and controlled before saying, ‘Our perp is committing rapes and murders, and after five killings, has not left one drop of evidence. That is not normal. There are no known witnesses. We literally have nothing Boss. We don’t even have a profile to work with,’ Tom said.

The Lieutenant’s shoulders slumped and he collapsed back into his chair. His firm glare flicked between Tom and Frank. ‘Is this outside your expertise gentlemen?’ he asked. ‘Is this too hard for you?’ he added with deliberate condescension.

‘Definitely not,’ Tom said, instantly taking umbrage to the Lieutenant’s tone. ‘It wouldn’t matter if Superman was investigating this case Boss, if there is no evidence…there is no evidence.’

‘Maybe you’re not looking hard enough…Maybe you’re just not looking in the right places.’

Tom collapsed back in his chair. ‘Then maybe you should tell that to the CSOs who keep coming up clean at every crime scene. You can’t tell me they are continually missing trace and transfer evidence…It’s-just-not-there.’ Tom’s reply was emphatic. ‘The perp knows crime scene forensics and he knows it well.’

The Lieutenant clearly found it hard to argue with Tom’s logic, especially when the Crime Scene Officers also failed to locate evidence. He rubbed an open hand across his mouth in contemplation. ‘It’s definitely a serial – yeah…? I mean, are we getting sufficient time between murders and are they linked?’

Tom nodded in response. ‘There is a temporal and geographical separation between each murder.’

‘Then what is the common link between victims?’

‘The first three murders suggested the perp was only hunting young women who lived alone. But the last two victims refuted that theory. Apart from the fact the victims were all Caucasian females in their early twenties…they were all members of a gym in Bay Park,’ Tom said.

‘Do you think the perp works at the gym?’

‘We have already spoken to all male gym staff and male gym members and came up with nothing,’ Tom said. ‘We can’t find a link to how the perp knows each victim.’

‘It looks like all we have is that gym connection…’ The Lieutenant said. ‘Go back over what you know and if you have to…re-interview everyone again. He has to be there somewhere. It’s all we’ve got so, use it – find the nexus. It’ll be there you just need to look harder,’ The Lieutenant instructed.

The Lieutenant jabbed his finger at Tom. ‘You’re the lead in this thing…take control and get it done.’ He arrogantly flicked the back of his hand at the two Detectives. ‘That’s all.’

Both Tom and Frank left the Lieutenant’s office feeling admonished. They had been up since 2am and didn’t need to hear that. They were doing all they could to catch this killer, but at the moment, the perp was outsmarting them.

---

‘9-1-1 what’s your emergency?’ The female dispatcher inquired.

“Um, yes, hello. My name is Robert Holding. I live at 148 Cloverdale Drive La Jolla…”

‘What is your emergency Sir…?’

“Um…it’s about all these murders…the Coastal Killings I think they’re called. I saw a Detective on the news last week saying that the killer is targeting young women who live on their own. Well…my neighbor is a young twenty-three year old woman and she lives on her own and I just saw a man leave her house and walk south along Cloverdale…I haven’t seen him before, so I went next door to see if my neighbor was OK and there was no answer at the door. Look it’s probably nothing… but I’m a bit worried for her safety.”

‘Do you know if your neighbor is actually at home Sir?’

“Well…her car’s in the drive and the interior lights are still on.”

‘OK. Did you get a description of the male? Height, build, clothing…’

“Yes, um, he was very tall I’d estimate about six feet nine and quite solidly built. I couldn’t tell how old he was because he was walking away from me. But um, he was wearing a dark hoodie, either black or navy blue, which was over his head and he had on black pants, possibly track pants.”

‘OK, Last direction of travel was south on Cloverdale, is that correct?’

“That’s correct, but I don’t know where he is now though.’

‘Is your neighbor at number 146 or 150…?’

“Ah, 146…146 Cloverdale Drive La Jolla.”

---

With no further leads or information to go on Tom and Frank decided to follow the Lieutenant’s fairly direct instructions to revisit male gym staff and male gym members, in case they had missed something.

As a result they spent all Monday afternoon and into the evening re-interviewing potential suspects, to either further exonerate them, or short list them in the suspect column.

It was 8.15pm when they finished their 7th interview, which was with a previously interviewed male gym member who resided in La Jolla. Consistent with the first interview they conducted with this person, he was able to provide water tight alibis for almost every murder. He was not their man.

Tom and Frank climbed into their unmarked vehicle when their police radio crackled into action.

“Any unit clear in the vicinity of Cloverdale Drive, La Jolla, male suspect seen leaving a premises. Last seen on foot heading south on Cloverdale. Any units nearby make your way to Cloverdale Drive and await further details.”

Tom started his vehicle and proceeded to drive towards their next interview – suspect number eight; a male gym member who also resided in La Jolla.

During the drive, both Detectives listened with interest to the radio chatter at what appeared to them to be a fleeing burglar.

Several police units had responded and were heading to the location provided by dispatch. One of the police cars asked dispatch what the male was suspected of doing.

“Male is a possible suspect in the Coastal Killing murders. Repeat, he is only a possible suspect at this stage. He was seen leaving the home of a twenty-three year old woman who resides on her own. A concerned neighbor has been unable to get a response from the young woman.”

Tom and Frank exchanged a glance. Their mouths were like the ping-pong ball clowns at a side show. Frank lunged for the radio transmitter. ‘Homicide two – Dispatch, we are currently in the La Jolla area. Is there a description of the suspect?’

“Affirmative Homicide Two. Description was given as a solidly built male, around six feet nine, wearing a black or navy blue dark hoodie over his head and black pants, possibly track pants. Last seen on foot heading south along Cloverdale Drive La Jolla.”

‘Copy,’ Frank replied.

‘Cloverdale is only about four streets over,’ Tom said as he accelerated the vehicle. ‘What’s the first intersecting street he would come to heading south in Cloverdale?’ Tom asked.

Frank consulted his street directory. ‘Um, the first street would be…Henderson, but it’s a cross road. He could go either right or left, or straight ahead.’

Tom shook his head. ‘He won’t stay on Cloverdale if he is fleeing. He will take the first intersecting street to get off Cloverdale. His car will probably be parked in a neighboring street somewhere. But which one…?’ he rhetorically asked himself.

Frank’s torch illuminated the street directory on his lap as he quickly tried to work out a direction of travel. ‘Take a right here,’ Frank pointed. Tom turned right as instructed. ‘The next left is Stanley and Stanley should run into Henderson.’

‘OK gotcha,’ Tom said. After slowing the vehicle, Tom slowly rolled through the neighborhood with his eyes peeled, searching for any movement.

As the Detectives approached Henderson Street, intending to turn left and head towards Cloverdale, Frank gestured straight ahead. ‘There…on the left. Is that a male in a dark hoodie walking away from us?’

Tom flicked on the vehicle’s high beam, as both men strained their eyes. Their vehicle crossed over Henderson and continued crawling along Stanley Street towards the male. As they approached the male from behind, the suspect male turned and looked at their approaching vehicle then suddenly sprinted away down Stanley.

‘He’s off,’ Frank shouted.

Tom floored the accelerator. The vehicle surged towards the fleeing male.

‘Shit he’s fast,’ Frank said. He lifted the radio transmitter. ‘Homicide Two, we are in pursuit of a male matching your description, he is currently on foot running south along Stanley Street.’

‘Roger Homicide Two – Dispatch to any unit able to assist Homicide Two in pursuit of a suspect fleeing on foot…?’

The fleeing male cut across the front of their approaching vehicle to the left side of the street and disappeared into the front yard of a house up on the left. Tom accelerated their vehicle before skidding to a stop outside the house.

‘Number 1288,’ Tom identified. ‘Quick, take the portable radio and go…he’s probably going over the back fence,’ Tom instructed.

Frank quickly retrieved the radio from the back seat before alighting from their vehicle. He commenced pursuing the male on foot, following him into the property.

Tom grabbed the radio transmitter. ‘Homicide Two. One member now on foot in pursuit of male suspect who was last seen entering a property at 1288 Stanley.’

“Copy that Homicide Two.”

‘Member is not in uniform, Copy…’ Tom said.

“Copy that Homicide Two. Dispatch to all units in La Jolla… be aware one member is on foot in pursuit…member is not in uniform… exercise caution.”

Chapter 26

Frank’s laboring voice blurted over the radio, as he transmitted. ‘He’s just… gone… over the back… fence… and is running…through…the rear property…’

Tom accelerated the vehicle along Stanley before turning left into Olympia Crescent. Accelerating rapidly, he quickly turned left again into Norfolk Avenue, where he planted his foot. The vehicle’s engine roared.

Tom saw Frank emerge from the driveway up ahead on his left. Frank pointed north in Norfolk and waved Tom on. Tom acknowledged as he sped by Frank in pursuit of the fleeing offender.

‘He went right up ahead,’ Frank’s voice crackled over the radio, as Tom sped by.

He’s gone back into Henderson, Tom thought, as he put the vehicle into a side drift, turning right into Henderson under speed. He saw the male on the left about 100 yards ahead. He was still sprinting.

Tom floored the pedal. The vehicle’s engine roared as it accelerated through the usually quiet suburban neighborhood, quickly closing in on his quarry.

He saw the male turn right into Douglas Parade and run north. Without slowing Tom wrenched the steering wheel right and turned into Douglas at high speed. The tail end of his vehicle drifted sideways. The vehicle’s tires squealed as they bit into the road surface.

As he turned the corner, he saw the male cross Douglas from left to right about forty yards ahead of him and quickly disappear into a house on his right.

Tom accelerated to the house, driving his vehicle at speed up the drive, on an angle, before skidding to an abrupt stop. His vehicle’s high beam illuminated the entire front of the property.

Tom quickly surveyed the scene. He noticed the six foot high, white picket fence gate at the side of the house was open.

‘Homicide Two – Dispatch. Offender ran into number 1184 Douglas Parade. I’m out of the vehicle on foot giving chase.’

‘Copy that Homicide Two.’

When Tom exited the car, he could hear a large dog barking. It was definitely unhappy with something, or someone. The barking came from the rear yard of number 1184. Tom made his way to the open side gate.

With his pistol drawn, Tom pushed the gate all the way open, until it hit the fence. He directed his torch light ahead of himself.

The side yard was lawn covered and about three yards wide. Thick tree growth, three to four yards high along the neighboring side fence was to his left, while the house was down his right. There was only one window – which was closed and no doors.

He shone his torch towards the back yard where he saw the source of the deep barking. One of the largest Rottweiler dogs he had ever seen stood in the backyard barking aggressively at him from behind a chain link fence that separated the back yard from the side yard.

There is no way he went into that back yard. Tom panned the torch light around the side yard area. High picket fence to the front – man eating dog to the rear and three yard high trees to the left. It was unlikely he went over that side fence with the foliage from those trees in the way.

Tom moved back to the gate and closed it. He knew the runner had to be somewhere in this side yard. The distinct “click-click” resonated when Tom chambered a round.

Moving slowly through the side yard area, crouching slightly as he walked, Tom shone his torch along the fence line, under the thick shrubs. The ferocious dog continued to bark its disapproval at the unwelcome visitors.

Two-thirds of the way down the side yard, he located his suspect lying face down under a low-hanging bush. The suspect’s head faced away from Tom and he couldn’t see the suspect’s hands, or if he was armed.

The Detective moved the torch light away as he carefully approached the male, to avoid alerting the suspect he had been discovered.

Once he was in place, his torch hand supported his pistol hand as he pointed both in the direction of the prostrate suspect.

‘Police. Show me your hands,’ he ordered, poised to anticipate any sudden movement. ‘I have a gun trained on your head…. Do-Not-Do-Anything-Stupid,’ Tom ordered.’

The male slowly lifted his hands out to the side. ‘What the fuck’s going on…I haven’t done anything, man.’

‘Put-your-hands-behind-your-back,’ Tom ordered. ‘Now.’

The male complied by slowly moving his hands behind his back. Tom approached the male and firmly dropped a knee into the back of the prostrate male. The man responded with a disapproving grunt.

Tom removed his hand cuffs and slapped them onto the male’s wrist.

Once the cuffs were secured he patted down the male for any weapons. There were none. He stepped back from the male and shone his bright torch spot light at him.

‘Get up,’ Tom ordered.

The male rolled out from under the bush and clambered to his feet. The man was certainly tall. He had about five inches on the six-foot six inch Tom.

Tom sharply ripped the hoodie off the man’s head. The wide eyes of an African American male stared back at him.

‘What the fuck have I done man? Why da fuck are these things on me?’ the crook asked, trying to move his cuffed hands out from behind his back.

‘You were seen leaving the house of a young female earlier tonight…I hope for your sake she’s still alive,’ Tom said.

‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

Tom ignored the question as he patted down the man’s pockets. He located a wallet and removed a driver’s license.

He held it up to his torch light. ‘Dejon Marquis James,’ he read. ‘March 25 1987. 1428 Underwood Close Pacific Beach,’ Tom read. ‘You’re a long way from home, Dejon. Where’s your vehicle?’

‘I don’t own one.’

‘So how are you getting home to…’ Tom re-read the license. ‘Underwood Close Pacific Beach?’

‘I’m walkin’ man. It’s only about 3½ miles. Takes me ‘bout thirty-five to forty minutes.’

Tom took hold of his prisoner’s bicep and led him out the side gate to the front yard.

’What were you doing at that house earlier tonight? Tom asked.

‘Visitin’ my girl.’

‘Really? What’s your girl’s name?’ he cynically asked as they walked.

‘Jackie…Jackie West,’ he replied. ‘Look man, what the fuck’s goin’ on? I ain’t done nuttin’.’

An out of breath Frank trotted up, as Tom returned to the vehicle with the suspect male. Still struggling to get his breath from his unexpected late night obstacle course, Frank lifted his portable radio.

‘Homicide Two – Dispatch, We have one male suspect in custody.’

Tom smiled at Frank’s reference to “we”.

‘Copy that Homicide Two.’

‘Where does Jackie live?’ Tom asked the male.

’I don’t know ‘er address man. I mean, I know how to get there…but I don’t know da street or da house number. We only just started seein’ each other. You know what I’m sayin?’

Why’d you run?’ Tom asked.

’Shit man…If I’d known you was five-oh I wouldn’t have run. I thought you was someone else,’ the suspect said.

‘Like who? Who did you think we were?’

‘I didn’t know…that’s why I ran. Look man…when there’s a car driving slowly down a street, ya don’t wait to see who’s drivin’ it, you know what I’m saying?’

‘No I don’t. What are you saying? Is there someone after you?’

‘Let’s just say I owe some money, OK and leave it at dat.’

Tom placed the male into the rear of the police vehicle and drove to 1146 Cloverdale Drive.

After arriving at this address, he had a conversation with a female who identified herself as Jackie West. She confirmed her boyfriend was a Dejon James and he had been with her earlier in the night. She said that when he left, she had a shower and didn’t hear the front door bell.

Tom escorted Jackie to the police vehicle, where she identified the male in custody in the rear seat as her boyfriend, Dejon.

Satisfied their man was a case of mistaken identity, Frank assisted Dejon from the rear of the vehicle and removed the hand cuffs.

‘How tall are you son?’ Frank asked, as he removed the last cuff.

Dejon rubbed his wrists. ‘Six-eleven,’ he said, dwarfing the much shorter Frank.

Frank shook his head. ‘Wow. You play basketball?’

Dejon rolled his eyes. ‘What is it wit you white folk…’ Dejon said. ‘You see a tall brother and you instantly assume he must play basketball….Shit.’ He shook his head.

Tom smiled at Frank’s generalized stereotype. ‘Ah, you’re free to go, Dejon,’ Tom said. ‘A word of advice though, son…Next time don’t run. OK?’

Dejon nodded once to Tom, albeit with apparent indifference, as he placed his arm around his much shorter girlfriend’s shoulder and they made their way back inside her home.

It took until the discovery of the sixth murder victim 2½ weeks after Harper Bourke’s body was found, before the Lieutenant decided his Homicide team required assistance, if they were to catch the Coastal Killer.

Lieutenant Bob Winter summonsed the FBI’s Unit Chief – Doug ’Lewinsky’ Baker to the SDPD for a meeting to discuss their options.

Lieutenant Winter escorted Lewinsky from his office to the operations room for an update on the murders to date.

Upon entering the room the smiling eyes of the six victims appeared to meet their gaze from the ten by eight photographs attached to the centrally located white board.

Lewinsky and Winter examined each photograph, including the graphic crime scene photo positioned directly below each smiling face.

‘We’ve got six victims, all young white females, all members of a gym in Bay Park,’ Winter said. ‘This last one,’ he gestured to victim six, ‘…Linley Vautier, twenty-two, killed in her own home in Linda Vista, while her parents were out for the night taking in dinner and a movie. Which ironically, was given to them as a present by their now deceased daughter.’

Shaking his head he continued, ’The perp killed her while they were out enjoying her gift,’ he said in disgust. ‘We gotta catch this guy, and I mean fast. We gotta stop these wanton killings.’

‘Do we have any sort of profile at all on the perp?’ Lewinsky asked.

Winter’s mouth straightened and he shook his head. ‘No. Nothing is known about him.’

Both men conceded that the most suitable option was to combine resources and form a task force comprising two men from SDPD and two from the FBI San Diego Field office.

‘You can use Matt Duncan and Danny Taylor. They will be available to dedicate all their time and energy working with SDPD, to catch this killer,’ Lew said.

‘I’ll keep Tom Carter and Frank Williams assigned to the case. After all, they are across it more than most,’ Winter said.

It was mutually agreed that SDPD Homicide would retain the responsibility as lead agency and Tom Carter would assume the primary lead investigative role of the task force. The administrative staff for the Task Force would be supplied by SDPD.

‘Maybe one of the first things the task force should do is work at establishing a profile of who it is we are looking for,’ Lewinsky suggested. ‘If they wanted to, they could even seek assistance from the Behavioral Analysis Unit-Two from Quantico. They have significant expertise in the area of serial murders.’

‘Good idea…’ Winter said.

Chapter 27

Lewinsky returned from his meeting with SDPD and informed Danny Taylor and Matt Duncan they had been seconded to the Coastal Killings’ Task Force. They would now work alongside SDPD Homicide, devoting all their time to catching the killer.

‘Who’s got lead?’ Matt asked.

’They will retain lead agency and Detective Tom Carter will assume lead investigator,’ the Lieutenant said. ‘It makes sense. It’s been his case from the start.’

‘And look how far it has got them…’ Matt said. ‘Count me out, chief.’ Matt firmly shook his head. ‘The guy’s a complete dick and he’s got no idea how to investigate a murder.’

‘I disagree Duncan…He is actually well regarded over there at SDPD Homicide.’

Matt shook his head. ‘I can’t work with him, Chief. It would be detrimental to any task force to have both of us on the same team,’ he said. ‘But I tell you what I’ll do, though…I’ll happily sit on the pine, and whenever they need help in any way, you can sub me in.’

Lewinsky eyed Matt while he considered his offer. He eventually nodded his acceptance. ‘Who do you suggest should replace you?’ the Lieutenant asked.

‘McKinley…He’s sharp and misses nothing. I’d have him on my team any day,’ Matt said.

The Coastal Killings Task Force hit the ground running. The day after they were formed, they called a meeting at SDPD headquarters. All available law enforcement personnel were summoned to attend for an update and to learn of the task force’s investigation plan.

Detective Tom Carter stood at the front of the room, beside the white board displaying the victims, to address the large gathering. With every chair in the room occupied, a large number of the attending members stood at the back of the room.

Tom systematically went over what was known from each murder, which didn’t take too long, given the lack of evidence and witnesses.

He stressed the importance of information sharing and team work, not only within the task force, but also across all law enforcement agencies.

‘This killer was out of control and he has to be stopped,’ Tom said. ‘He is making a mockery of everyone who holds a badge. So it is time for you all to take it personally.’ He dragged his eyes across the room.

Tom finished his meeting with a plea to all law enforcement officers. ’Every one of you has a Confidential Informant of some level; someone who feeds you reliable information, someone who keeps you updated on what’s happening in the city’s seedy underbelly.

’I don’t give a fuck what you do, or how you do it…but I implore you to tap into what they know. Throw some cash at ’em…Call in your favors… turn ’em upside down and shake ’em to see what falls out…I don’t care, but get out there and find out what they know about these murders.

‘There must be talk on the streets by now. Someone must know something. As soon as you hear anything…make sure your information is immediately passed on to this task force.’

Matt cut a lonely figure sitting hunched over his desk in the Agency bullpen, reading a case file pertaining to the brutal slaying of a local gang member.

Unbeknownst to him his colleagues had finished work for the day. All other desks in the open plan office were now vacant.

He paused momentarily while he lifted his eyes to the clock on the wall, before doing a typical double take at the time. He fell back in his chair. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he realized the time was 4.40pm. He checked his watch in case the wall clock was wrong. It wasn’t.

Matt ran his hands through his shortly cropped hair as he exhaled. He locked his fingers behind his head. He had become so absorbed in reading the file, he failed to notice the time had got away from him. He glanced around at all the empty desks and scoffed at himself. I don’t even remember them leaving.

He closed the file and commenced to pack up, so he could join the procession of homeward bound highway commuters. As he did so, someone called to him from the bull pen doorway.

‘Agent Duncan…’ Tom Carter said.

Matt turned to the voice. The non-law enforcement, public servant from reception had just escorted Detective Tom Carter to their bull pen, before returning to the front desk.

Matt sat back in his chair. ‘Detective Carter,’ he said devoid of enthusiasm. He watched Carter approach.

With a friendly smile, Tom briskly walked over and slid into the visitor’s chair at Matt’s desk. Matt watched on in anticipation.

‘Do you have a minute…?’ he asked. ‘I was just wanting to have a chat about our serial.’

Matt instinctively glanced up at the wall clock. ‘Well…I suppose it’s peak hour at the moment so…I won’t be going anywhere in a hurry, anyway…what can I do for you?’

Tom reclined back into the chair and crossed his legs. ‘You know how that last vic was found by the beach…the thirty year old divorcee…?’

Matt nodded. ‘Wasn’t she victim number nine…?’

Tom nodded. ‘Correct.’

‘What about her?’

’You know how all the victims were members at the Club Fitness gym in Bay Park…?′

‘Yep. It has been well documented,’ Matt said. He wondered where this was going and what it had to do with him.

’Well, I looked into it further and it turns out the last vic wasn’t a member at Club Fitness gym.’

‘That’s interesting news,’ Matt said, dripping with sarcasm. ‘But I’m guessing you didn’t drive all the way out here to tell me that.’

‘If you’re nothing else, you’re perceptive.’ Tom was flippant. ’It turns out though that she had employed a personal trainer who worked at the same gym – Club Fitness.’

Matt’s attention suddenly piqued.

‘A man by the name of…’ Tom paused to consult his file. ‘Jason Bentley…’

Matt nodded, albeit slightly.

Noticing his reaction Tom asked ‘Do you know him?’

Matt nodded. ‘I know him.’

‘How do you know him?’ Tom asked.

Matt waved a hand at Tom. ‘Keep going with your story,’ he said.

‘Well…’ Tom began. ‘I noticed we had spoken to him previously during our earlier inquiries, but he was cleared. But after this latest link, we decided to bring him in again for further questioning.’

‘And…’ Matt said curtly.

‘He has an alibi for the night… Which is why I’m here,’ Tom said.

‘You’re talking to me because this Jason person has an alibi…?’ Matt questioned cynically.

’Not exactly… I’m talking to you because of his alibi. Mr. Bentley said he was working with a client of his until about 10pm, a Mrs. Alicia Duncan…’ Tom eyed Matt to monitor his reaction. ‘That’s your wife isn’t it…?’

‘That’s right. What are you implying?’ Matt asked. He knew Alicia never trained until 10pm. He knew all too well that if she was with Jason and was prepared to be his alibi, it would be because she was screwing him.

But he wasn’t intending to let Carter know about that. If he made that information common knowledge, it could affect his grand plan.

‘I’m not implying anything. I just thought I would chat to you about what you know of this arrangement,’ Tom clarified.

‘Arrangement…?’ Matt asked firmly. He leaned onto his elbows and glared at Tom. ‘Jason is my wife’s personal trainer,’ he said emphatically. ‘They train together about three times a week – on Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. The times that they train varies based on my wife’s shifts.’

‘Is that how you know him?’ Tom asked.

’Let me make it clear… I don’t know him…I know of him…’ Matt clarified. ’He trains my wife, but I can’t vouch for him, if that’s what you’re asking.

‘But if she says he was with her…’ Matt shrugged. ‘Then I guess, he was with her.’ He fell back into his chair. ‘What do you want me to say…? Do I think my wife is lying about him…?’

’So you have no problems with this late night training arrangement then? Just the two of them alone, late at night,’ Tom asked with an insinuating tone.

Matt did have a problem with it. Why else would he want them both dead? He had certainly thought of it… and thought of it until it consumed him.

’Who says it was a late night training session,’ Matt said, mimicking Tom’s emphasis and tone. ’Do you know the actual time of death for this latest victim?’ Matt asked.

Tom eyes dropped to his notes. He paused while he read something. ‘Ah…Not exactly,’ he said, a little more subdued in his tone. ‘Just the day. We know she died on a Wednesday night.’

‘So what’s with all the insinuations about my wife…?’ Matt asked directly. ‘How good is this guy’s alibi anyway…? For all I know, once they finished their training session together, he could have left my wife and killed this latest victim…’ He flicked a finger towards Tom’s file on the desk.

‘All I’m saying Agent is…If she was my wife, I’d be watching her very closely, especially around him. People who we are able to associate with this Jason are being killed – raped and strangled,’ Tom said.

Matt silently absorbed the Detective’s comments. Everything was progressing perfectly. They are even now looking at Jason as a suspect.

’We still need to verify this guy’s alibi so…I thought that you would be best suited to ask your wife about the details of her, er…training session, on Wednesday night. Times, location, what time he left her. Even ask her if he happened to mention where he was going once he left her.’

‘I know how to verify an alibi, Detective,’ Matt snapped. He then over emphasized glancing at his watch.

‘Of course you do, Agent,’ Tom said. He took the hint and lifted his eyes towards the wall clock. ‘Well…’ Tom rose to his feet. ‘I’ll let you get on your way then.’ He extended his hand to Matt.

Remaining seated to intentionally show his disdain, Matt briefly eyed the extended hand. His father was a man’s-man and taught him that a man should never shake a man’s hand, while seated – always stand first.

Matt was prepared to make the exemption for someone he held in such contempt. He remained seated as he responded with a single hand shake, letting go almost as soon as he gripped.

‘Let me know the outcome of the inquiries with your wife,’ Tom said. He turned to exit the bull pen.

Matt lifted his disinterested chin in a silent response.

As he watched Carter walk from the room, Matt rued the missed opportunity to plant Jason’s fingerprint at one of the crime scenes, especially now they were looking at him for the murders.

Unfortunately, he kept forgetting to take the fingerprint print with him, inadvertently leaving it home every time he went out.

But he realized he still had the collection of newspaper clippings from each murder. If he could plant them in Jason’s house, it would certainly direct further suspicion towards Jason.

Matt was reluctant to ask Alicia questions about Jason’s alibi for that late Wednesday night, when the ninth victim was killed. If she was with him late at night, it could become awkward as she tried to lie her way out of what she was doing with Jason.

If he was being honest to himself, he didn’t want to know what they were doing and frankly, he no longer cared. It would all be over as soon when the right opportunity presented itself. She would be gone and Jason would be implicated.

Chapter 28

Friday night was the culmination of a long, busy and tiring working week for Matt and Alicia. She had planned to watch a movie together, but Matt was still not home from work.

Alicia frowned at the clock. When she lifted her cell to call Matt, she heard his keys rattling, as he entered from the down stairs garage.

She moved to meet him in the kitchen. ‘Hi…’ she said questioningly. She lifted up her cell to Matt. ‘I was just going to call you… I was getting a little worried.’

Matt kissed her on the cheek. ‘Sorry about that…I should’ve called. I was having few quiet ones with the boys after work…you know…Friday night drinks,’ Matt said.

‘That’s OK…’ Alicia said. ‘I just didn’t know where you were…’ she said. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Yeah…I grabbed something while I was out.’

They made their way into the lounge.

‘I was hoping we could watch a movie together,’ Alicia said.

‘OK…Sure. That’ll be great,’ Matt said. ‘You choose the movie and I’ll get the drinks.’

‘Already have…’ Alicia smiled at him. ‘I have been waiting a while…’

‘OK…I’ll be quick.’ Matt disappeared into the kitchen.

While relaxing on the sofa they watched their movie choice on their 165 inch home theater screen. Matt rested his feet on the coffee table in front of them.

His right arm was around Alicia’s shoulder, while she reclined with her head snuggled comfortably into his muscular chest. Her feet were tucked up onto the sofa beside her.

Despite their movie of choice being entertaining and action packed, Alicia still managed to doze off half way through the movie, even though it starred Justin Timberlake, one of her favorite ‘eye candy’ actors.

Matt had just taken a sip from his Corona when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. His focus shifted to the sleeping Alicia who had pinned his right arm. He only had one free arm available. He placed his beer on the small side table then retrieved his phone.

‘Hello,’ he answered in a low voice.

The voice of Lewinsky, his Unit Chief responded. “Hi Matt. Sorry to bother you at home on a Friday night but… a 10th victim has just been found in La Jolla and your assistance is needed at the crime scene.”

‘What can I do…? I’m not part of the task force.’

“No, I’m aware of that. But the Task Force is two men down. One of the SDPD boys is in hospital with his young daughter, who fell and broke her arm… and our guy, Taylor, is in bed with a flu virus. You said you were on the bench with this one… so…you’re being subbed in.’

‘Isn’t there anyone else…I’ve had a few beers watching a movie.’

It was probably the tone of Matt’s voice, but he woke Alicia. She lifted her head and watched him talking on his phone. ‘Who’s that?’ she mouthed.

With his right arm now free he raised his finger to her.

Lew continued. “No, you’re it. So I suggest you grab a coffee and get your ass over to the crime scene and assist wherever you can. I’ll text you the address. It’s not that far from your place anyway.”

Yeah and that makes a difference, he thought as he ended the call.

Alicia sat upright. ‘What’s going on?’

‘You know that serial killer case that’s got everyone panicking…?’

She lifted her drink from the coffee table. ‘Uh huh,’ she said, then took a sip.

‘They’ve just discovered another victim – number ten,’ he said.

‘Oh my God, Matt. This is getting ridiculous. Do they have any idea who is doing this?’

‘Honestly…’ he began. ‘I don’t think they have a clue. They have suspects, but…’ his voice trailed off.

‘Where do you have to go?’

‘Just down to La Jolla.’ He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

‘That’s way too close for comfort,’ Alicia said.

Matt rose to his feet and stretched. Alicia still sat with her feet tucked up under butt. He jabbed a thumb at the screen. ‘You missed your boyfriend…Justin Timberlake.’

Alicia smiled and shrugged uncaring shoulders.

He kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll just grab some things and head out.’

‘Be careful,’ she said as she watched him leave the lounge. ‘I’ll try and wait up for you.’

‘Thanks. But I wouldn’t bother. I don’t expect I’ll be home before daylight, Hun,’ he said back over a shoulder, as he left the room.

Matt ran up the stairs – two at a time. Once in his bedroom he made his way to their walk-in closet, to the location where Jason’s fingerprint lift was secreted. This time he was not going to leave it at home.

By the time Matt arrived in the usually quiet neighborhood of victim number ten, the street was anything but quiet.

Black and whites provided a road block at each end of the street. Perimeter tape had been established by the first response police.

News reporters and Media trucks were on scene commanding optimum positioning just outside the perimeter tapes. News reporters filed their stories, or reported during live crosses to the scene.

Matt was unable to park his vehicle anywhere close to the victim’s house. The first available car park he could find was in a side street about 200 yards from the victim’s house.

After parking his car, he made his way to the address. It seemed like a street party was in progress. There was an unusual atmosphere in the air. Curious onlookers walked in all directions along the roads and footpaths, all trying to get a glimpse of what was happening.

There was no doubt about it, the general public were fascinated by a serial killer story and the media simply fed the public’s curiosity, often with inaccurate information, or wild assumptions.

Matt held up his FBI badge to the police officer on crowd control duty at the perimeter tape. The officer nodded a silent greeting then lifted the tape for Matt to pass under. Matt slipped his ID into the front of his jeans as he walked.

He stopped at the front gate of number 3045 – the victim’s address. The double fronted green weatherboard home appeared to be constructed circa 1980s.

The lone mezzanine floor window, high in the front wall, reminded him of the one-eyed Cyclops. It also explained the distinctive high pitch roof that dwarfed its neighboring properties.

The front door was open and the interior lights were on. The light from inside the house projected shadows across the darkened front yard. Matt could see into the house, right through to the kitchen.

Prior to entering through the front gate, Matt removed a pair of shoe covers from the box, left at the gate by Crime Scene Officers and slipped them on. He snapped on his latex gloves during his stroll down the front path to the house.

As he crossed the entrance threshold, Matt noticed the inward leaning, splintered timber, protruding from the front door jam and architrave. He stopped to examine the lock housing. It was evident the door had been forced in, probably kicked. He frowned at the discovery.

He continued into the house. Tom Carter was the first person he recognized. Carter squatted in the lounge beside the ME. Both men were focused on the naked, lifeless body of the victim.

Carter stood up and approached Matt when he saw him enter the house. He extended his right hand to Matt. ‘Thanks for coming down, Agent. We’re going to need all the help we can get.’

Matt shook Carter’s hand.

‘I hear you’re down a couple from your task force,’ Matt said.

’Correct. We’re two down…One of ours and one of yours.’

‘What’s with the damage to the door…?’ Matt jabbed a thumb back towards the front door. ‘Forced entry isn’t our perp’s MO.’

Tom placed his left hand on Matt’s back to gently encourage him to move towards the body. Matt responded by walking with Tom.

‘Ah, that’s from the victim’s father. He’s the one who discovered her. He thought he could see her legs on the floor in the lounge so, as any Dad would do…he kicked in the front door.’

Matt nodded his understanding. ‘So… What do we know?’ Matt asked, as they made their way to the lounge.

’From what we can tell at this early stage – same victimology. Twenty-six year old Caucasian female. Lived on her own. No defensive wounds. Same duct tape used. Probably been dead for about two or three days before discovery.

Her father said she had just ended a long relationship with her boyfriend, so we’ll look into that further.’

Matt briefly glanced down at the body, showing little interest. He had seen it all before. He scanned the room to examine what the Crime Scene Officers were doing.

He approached the CSO squatting in the kitchen, methodically dusting cupboards and bench tops for prints.

‘Have you checked the perimeter yet for signs of forced entry, or prints?’

The Crime Scene officer didn’t remove his eyes from applying the fingerprint dust. ‘Haven’t had a chance yet.’

‘OK,’ Matt said. ‘I’ll go and check the external doors, as well as the windows.’

‘Knock yourself out,’ the CSO said.

Things couldn’t have worked out better. He needed privacy if he was to ‘locate’ the suspect fingerprint at the scene. This could be just the evidence he needed to link Jason to all these murders.

‘Do any of you guys have a torch?’ Matt said, addressing the CSOs in the lounge and kitchen area. The CSO working the lounge reached into the kit beside himself, removed his torch and lobbed it to Matt.

Matt followed the torch beam down the dark hall towards the back of the house. He checked all the bedroom windows, before making his way to the rear door.

He had to unlock the sliding patio door to move out into the back yard. All the windows at the back of the house were also locked.

Once outside, he checked the ground for footprints, before making his way around to the side of the house. He again checked the ground for footprints, before checking all windows.

He knew they were all locked and to be honest, he didn’t really care. His focus was on trying to locate the most suitable window to plant Jason’s print.

Once he had perpetrated the charade of circumventing the entire house, checking the windows and doors and ground for prints, he returned to the back door and closely examined the sliding glass panel of the patio door.

He was concerned that a latent print being discovered on the rear sliding patio door could be questioned.

Feeling uneasy about his first choice, he decided to move around to the west side of the house, to one of the side bedroom windows.

After arriving at the first window, closest to the backyard, he shone the torch light onto the window and examined the glass around the locking mechanism.

He lowered the torch and checked over his shoulders, to ensure all was clear. He removed the fingerprint lifting sheet that contained Jason’s print, from his pocket. Before applying it to the window he gave a final check over his shoulders, to ensure there were no nosy neighbors peeping over the fence.

Matt separated the transparent film containing the print from the backing sheet and carefully placed the film onto the window, in the vicinity of the lock. He rubbed his hand over the back of the film, hoping to transfer enough of the print to the window.

He carefully peeled back the film and shone his torch light onto the window. He exhaled onto the glass. The fingerprint imprint was visible in the brief moment his heated breath caused the glass to fog. The transfer appeared to be a success. Now for the discovery.

The absence of fingerprints at any of the nine crime scenes to date would certainly raise the question why this crime scene was any different.

Investigators would presume the perp wore gloves at his scenes, so why was the perp suddenly so careless on this occasion? Where were his gloves?

All valid questions that he would definitely ask if it was his crime scene. Regardless, in a case where you have ten victims stacked up, you take any break you can. And that was what he pinned his hopes on; Investigator desperation – the need to catch a break in a high profile case.

Chapter 29

Matt made his way back into the house, and back into the lounge room, where he collectively addressed the occupants of the room. ‘Did anybody touch the west side, bedroom window while not wearing gloves?’

All eyes in the room lifted from what they were doing and glared at Matt. They could probably tell by his tone that he had found something. Tom Carter rose from beside the body and approached Matt.

‘What have you got?’ Tom asked.

Trying to act like he was focused, Matt walked passed Tom, towards one of the CSOs. ‘I’ve got a latent on one of the windows up the side of the house. I just hope it doesn’t belong to one of the first responder uniform boys out front.’

Matt approached the CSO from whom he had borrowed the torch. ‘Do you have a fingerprint lifting sheet?’

‘How clear is the print?’ the CSO inquired.

‘It’s not too bad, I’d say.’

The CSO grabbed his fingerprint kit and camera and moved to the rear of the house. ‘No offence Agent… but I better do it. Show me the way,’ he said.

Matt raised his hands. ‘None taken.’ What could be better than having an experienced CSO remove the print?

Once outside, Matt used the torch light to indicate the print he earlier applied to the window. The CSO took the torch from Matt to examine the print. Matt nervously watched the CSO’s reaction. Without commenting the CSO bent down to his bag.

‘What do you think?’ Matt asked. He watched the CSO rummage through his kit.

‘It’s definitely a print, but I’m just not sure how clear the lift will be, though.’

The CSO twirled his fingerprint brush lightly over the suspect print, applying a light cover of powder. He shone the torch back onto the now visible fingerprint to examine his work.

He moved his eyes closer to the glass. ‘There’s definitely a pattern visible – possibly a Whorl…so we may have something here – at least, a partial.’

The CSO returned to his kit bag, removed his camera and took photographs of the print on the window. After replacing the camera in his bag, the CSO lifted the print from the window with a piece of transparent film.

After examining the lifted print by torch light, he returned the film to its backing sheet and placed it into a small envelope, which he then placed into his bag.

Matt returned inside with the CSO. His ploy was completed. Upon his return to the lounge Tom approached Matt and the CSO. ‘How did you go?’ He appeared eager.

‘I was able to lift something…looks promising, but we’ll know more when we get it back and examine it in detail,’ the CSO said.

Tom placed a hand on Matt’s broad shoulder. ‘I never thought I’d be saying this to you Agent…but good job,’ he said.

Matt waved it off. ‘Next you’ll want to give me a kiss, or something,’ Matt said. He moved towards the lounge. ‘We’ve got too much work ahead of us here Detective, to be holding your little love-in,’ Matt said.

Although he was no longer interested in the crime scene, having planted his smoking-gun evidence, Matt spent the next several hours acting like a concerned investigator combing the rooms and yard searching for anything that constituted evidence.

Although it was still dark when they eventually finished, the horizon showed signs of change. The new day had started to wash away the black of night from the lower edges of the night sky.

The street, previously a hive of activity, was now empty of curious onlookers and reporters. Only law enforcement personnel remained. Everyone working the scene was tired and looked forward to going home to their beds.

Birds chirped in the new dawn when Tom walked Matt out to the empty street. They stopped at the front gate. Tom turned to Matt. ‘Thanks again for all your assistance Agent,’ Tom said. The fact he still couldn’t bring himself to say Matt’s name was not lost on Matt.

Matt rested his large hand on Tom’s scrawny shoulder. ‘Hopefully we can get this prick,’ Matt said. He turned to commence the 200 yard stroll back to his car. ‘Probably chat to you next week, Detective,’ Matt said over a shoulder, as he walked.

While sitting at his desk, Matt was pleased with himself, now that his master plan was coming together. The ‘discovery’ of the incriminating fingerprint at the last murder scene would be difficult for Jason to explain.

Alicia mentioned to Matt at breakfast this morning that her Wednesday morning training session with Jason would probably be conducted outdoors in a park at 10am. This would leave her sufficient time to have lunch and shower before her afternoon shift commenced.

Matt glanced at the clock on the Bull Pen wall and noted the time was 9.50am. It was almost time. The next stage of his plan was about to come together.

He planned to head to Jason’s house, while Alicia and Jason were in their one-on-one training session in the park. Once inside, he would plant all the newspaper clippings from the Coastal Killings series of murders.

After the print was identified as belonging to Jason, they would definitely search his house. When they located articles during any future search, the task force would conclude they were mementos of Jason’s killing spree. This find, combined with the fingerprint evidence, would be fairly compelling circumstantial evidence against Jason.

Matt slid open his desk, bottom drawer and lifted a manila folder containing the collection of the nine murder newspaper clippings. He suddenly dropped the folder and closed the drawer when his team member, Brad approached.

‘We’re going downstairs for a coffee …’ Brad said, indicating his colleagues. ‘You comin’?’

‘Ah…Actually I’ve got a couple of errands to run…’ Matt checked his watch. ‘So I might have to give it a miss.’

‘Oh OK. Anything you need a hand with?’ Brad asked.

Matt lifted a hand to Brad. ‘Nuh, I’m good. It won’t take me long. Go enjoy your coffee and I’ll see ya when I get back.’

‘OK. As long as you’re sure…’ Brad caught up with the rest of the team as they were exiting the Bull Pen.

The drive from the office to Pacific Beach was relatively quick. Within fifteen minutes Matt conducted a drive-by of Jason’s house in Lawson Avenue. As expected, Jason’s car was not there; nor was Alicia’s.

He parked his car about 100 yards down the road from Jason’s house. He checked the time. It was 10.22am. Time would soon be his enemy.

With manila folder in hand, Matt secured his car and made his way to Jason’s house. The front door was in full view of the street, so he had to work fast to minimize being noticed.

At the door, he removed his pick lock set from his pocket and knelt down in front door handle. Fortunately the lock on Jason’s door was a common door lock.

After twelve years of hunting some of the worse criminal elements in the country, Matt was a firm believer that in law enforcement, you needed to keep pace with what the crooks knew.

If you wanted to catch the criminals, you needed a criminal mindset – be able think and act like a criminal. Otherwise you became outdated and you got left behind. Consequently, there were very few homes, or cars for that matter, in the San Diego area that would keep him out, if he wanted to gain entry.

Matt unzipped the pick lock case and removed a tension wrench and a hook pick and inserted them both into the door handle’s lock. Within ten seconds Matt had manipulated the five pins in the lock and opened the door.

He stood and scanned the street before he stepped inside and quickly closed the door.

Once inside Matt found himself standing in the small lounge room taking a typical first time assessment as he snapped on his latex gloves.

He considered the master bedroom would be the most suitable place to plant the newspaper clippings.

The three bedrooms were all located down the right side of the house. The master bedroom was accessed from the lounge.

Matt swung open the master bedroom door. The first thing he noticed was the unmade, King sized bed that occupied most of the floor space in the modest sized room.

He found himself staring at the ruffled sheets. The thought of that trainer having sex with his wife in that bed only further infuriated him.

He opened the closet door to search for a suitable location to plant the manila folder.

A hat shelf ran across the top of the wardrobe, however it was empty. If he planted the folder on this shelf he risked the possibility of it being discovered by Jason.

Matt scanned the room for any other options, but he couldn’t locate anywhere secure enough to plant the evidence.

He decided that maybe one of the other two bedrooms would be more appropriate. With Jason living on his own, it was also probable that Jason would rarely access these other bedrooms.

Matt checked his watch as he made his way out of the master bedroom: 10.30am. He moved through the kitchen and into the hall. Frown lines formed on Matt’s face when he noticed there was only one door leading off the hall. And that door was all the way down the end.

He stepped back and took an overall assessment of the hall. According to his research, there were three bedrooms in this house. The Master was accessed from the lounge but there was only one bedroom door leading from the hall. Where was bedroom two?

Matt checked inside the room at the end of the hall. It was smaller than the average bedroom and empty of furniture. He closed the door and moved back into the hall. He scratched the back of his head as he stared at the blank wall where the middle bedroom’s door should be. He was perplexed. A solid painted drywall ran the length of the hall.

He made his way out the back door into the rear yard and walked around to the side of the house. He noticed from the outside there was a window half way along. It didn’t belong to bedroom three because that window opened out onto the back yard. So it had to belong to the missing bedroom two.

Matt peered in through this side window into what should be the 2nd bedroom, positioned immediately behind the Master bedroom. He shielded his eyes as he tried to peep inside the window. It took a couple of attempts before he realized the glass had been painted black. Who paints out their windows?

He returned back inside, puzzled by his findings. For some reason, access to bedroom two had been removed. But why?

Following a quick check of his watch he realized time was running out. He had no choice but to try and hide the newspaper clippings in bedroom three.

After entering this bedroom, he scanned the room searching for what he considered to be a likely place where a devious serial killer would hide mementos. It also needed to be a place that Jason would not inadvertently discover.

The room was empty. He opened the wardrobe door. The hanging space was completely empty, as was the top shelf. This would be even more conspicuous than the master bedroom.

Matt’s eyes dropped to the carpet on the floor inside the wardrobe. He lifted up the carpet. Fortunately, it was just sitting on the floor like a rug and it lifted straight up.

As he did so he noticed a narrow gap between the floor of the wardrobe and the right side wall. It was previously hidden by the carpet.

He traced the edges of the wall, moving up from the gap at the floor. Upon closer inspection it appeared the wall was not sealed in the corner. He knocked on the wall. It appeared hollow. Matt pushed against the wall searching for cross support noggins, or any form of strengthening inside the side wall. He heard a discernible ‘click’ and the side wall sprung open about one inch.

Matt hooked his finger behind the partially ajar door and swung it open. It was a concealed door with a spring latch. He stepped through the opening where he found himself inside the darkened wardrobe of bedroom two. This wardrobe was also completely empty.

With a gentle push, the wardrobe doors opened outwards to reveal a darkened room. Matt stepped into the darkness and used the light from his cell phone to locate a light switch. He flicked it on. A dull red light painted the room in an eerie blood-red hue.

Photography developing trays and chemicals sat on a table near the light switch. A rope line with a number of small, film clip pegs, stretched between the walls. Bedroom two had been converted to a secret photographer’s dark room. But why so secretive?

Once he had acclimatized to the dull lighting, Matt scanned the room. His mouth fell open when he noticed a wall of black and white, ten by eight photographs.

Every photo was of Alicia. There had to be over fifty photographs of his wife on this wall. Some were candid shots that appeared like she was unaware they were being taken, while others were obviously posed.

Matt moved along the photo wall examining each of the photographs. He was taken aback when he saw six photographs all depicting Alicia naked in various suggestive and salacious poses. Each full frontal photograph was similar to what you would expect to find in a sleazy men’s’ magazine.

He could not believe this was his wife. He shook his head in disbelief as his eyes scanned the photos. ‘I do not know who you are, any more,’ he mumbled to himself.

Matt ripped each of the six explicit photos from the wall in disgust. He rolled them up and shoved them into his rear jeans pocket. The more he found out about her sordid affair with this trainer, the more he felt justified by his grand plan. They were only making it easier.

He scanned the glowing red room and noticed a small desk sitting under the painted-out window. He considered one of the drawers might be a suitable place to plant the newspaper clippings.

Matt placed the manila folder on the desk while he opened and inspected each of the three drawers. Each drawer was empty and therefore, too obvious.

When Matt lifted the manila folder from the desk, the newspaper clippings slid out the bottom of the folder and fell to the floor. Matt rolled his eyes. He cursed to himself as he checked his watch. It was 10.49am. He was running out of time.

He dragged the chair out of the way and bent down to pick up the clippings. One had floated into the foot well, under the desk. He carefully reached under to collect the wayward clipping.

As he commenced to back out from under the desk, something under the desk caught his attention. Matt strained his neck to look up to the underneath side of the desk.

He noticed what appeared to be a dark maroon colored book – possibly an album, secured under the desk by black duct tape.

Chapter 30

Matt carefully unpeeled the securing tape and the book dropped into this hands. He edged himself out from under the desk and stood. Before he could examine the book his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Matt retrieved his phone and looked at the display before answering.

‘Duncan.’

‘Agent…Tom Carter from Homicide. How are you?’

‘Good. What’s up?’

‘I have some great news and I wanted to be the first to personally tell you…’

Matt waited for the news.

‘Because of your find we have a breakthrough in the case. We ran the fingerprint you found through IAFIS and we got a hit.’

Matt’s brow furrowed. He took a moment to absorb what he just heard.

The FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System was their national repository of criminal histories, fingerprints and photographs for all US criminals. But he planted the fingerprint. Jason wasn’t anywhere near the house…so how could the print match a record in IAFIS?

‘OK…What sort of hit are we talking about?’ Matt asked.

‘A major one…’ Tom said. ‘The fingerprint matched a four-year old murder from Philadelphia…’ Tom paused before continuing. ‘But there’s more…’ he said. ‘That murder was the first one of a series of twenty-six murders over the space of four years.’

Matt listened on in stunned silence.

‘And here’s the slam dunk…’ Tom said. ’Every one of the twenty-six victims was immobilized by duct tape around her wrists, with a strip over their eyes and mouths. They were all raped and strangled. The print you found for our murderer is the same guy from the Philly serial murders.’

The frown lines in Matt’s forehead resembled a washboard. ‘Couldn’t we just have a copycat killer…?’ Matt suggested, even though his comment made little sense, considering the fingerprint had been found and identified in IAFIS.

‘No way,’ Tom insisted. ‘The FBI advised me that the details of the duct tape over the eyes and mouth were never released for the Philly murders…Just like in our cases. Nobody knew about this particular signature.’

Matt held a stunned stare into nothing. It didn’t make sense. He planted the print at the murder scene to frame Jason. How could it match the Philly murders?

Matt’s eyes dropped to the album in his hand. The distraction of the phone call caused him to forget he still held it. He dropped the album onto the desk and flipped open the cover. His eyes flared.

‘I’m gunna have to call you back,’ Matt said. He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the desk. His eyes never left the album.

Matt slowly turned each page of the album he found taped under the desk. Every page had a newspaper clipping that related to each of the Philly murders on one side, while on the other page was a color photograph of each victim – naked and bound with duct tape, with tape over the victim’s eyes and mouth. It was the same signature to the Coastal Killings. The Philly murderer must’ve taken his own photos after he killed his victims.

Each page was numbered one through twenty-six. The news articles actually reported the murders were in and around Pittsburgh. Matt flicked through the pages. Every Philadelphia murder was accounted for – all twenty-six.

Matt rubbed a thoughtful hand over his mouth. What the fuck’s going on? He frowned.

After arriving at the last murder – number twenty-six, Matt flicked over the page. His eyes flared again. The page immediately following the 26th Philly murder, was a newspaper clipping from the San Diego UT reporting the discovery of the first victim in the Coastal Killings.

On the page opposite that was a color photograph of the deceased victim number one from the Coastal Killings – naked and bound by duct tape. This was not a police crime scene photo, so it had to have been taken by the killer. Matt’s brow plunged deep into his face.

The photograph had a large number “1” written in red ink. Matt quickly flicked through the rest of the album pages, each of which also contained newspaper clippings on one side and a color photograph on the other page.

Each of these other photographs was numbered two through ten and related to each of the recent San Diego murders. Every murder had been cataloged in the album.

Matt ran his hand across his closely shaved head. He struggled to accept that Jason was actually the Coastal Killer.

Matt’s eyes dropped to his manila folder on the desk that contained his collection of newspaper articles on the Coastal Killings. All this time he intended to plant this evidence in Jason’s house to try and frame him for all the murders…and Jason had his own first-hand collection, because he was actually committing them. Matt didn’t know if was embarrassed for not realizing Jason was the murderer, or angry that he was. Maybe it was both.

He was so focused on trying to frame Jason, when all these murders started happening, he didn’t take the time to wonder who was actually committing them. He was almost thankful to the murderer for providing him with material to frame Jason.

He curiously turned over the next page following victim number ten. As the page fell open he inhaled and reeled back slightly, horrified at what confronted him.

His heart rate instantly elevated. The pit of his stomach felt like lead as his eyes locked onto a black and white ten by eight head shot photograph of Alicia smiling happily back at him. His stunned eyes dropped to the large number “11” written in red ink in the lower right corner of the photo. Matt’s gaze froze on the number as he realized its significance.

He turned the page back to the previous page. It was a photo of Victim number ten, with a red “10” in the lower right corner. He flicked the page back to Alicia’s photo.

He cupped his forehead. ‘Fuck,’ he said to himself. ‘Fuck,’ he repeated as he pivoted on the spot. ‘She’s next.’

Panic started to take hold. His breathing accelerated but he struggled to draw a clean breath. He felt claustrophobic. He lifted his phone and dialed Alicia. He checked his watch while the phone rang. It was 11.10am.

‘Come on pick up, pick up.’ He was now sick with fear.

The phone answered. ‘Hi Hun, what’s up?’

Matt took a deep breath to compose himself. He didn’t want to unnecessarily alarm her. ‘Nothing Hun… Er, I just thought I’d give you a call. How was your training session?’

‘Oh it was great. It was such a beautiful day to be outside. I’m just in the car now heading home for a shower.’

‘So…how’s Jason?’

‘He was fine…’ she replied slowly and a little questioningly.

‘What’s he up to now then?’ he asked.

The phone went silent for a brief period before she responded. ‘I suppose he’s going home…I don’t know. We didn’t discuss it…Why…? What’s wrong…Why the sudden interest in Jason?’

‘I wouldn’t say it’s sudden interest, Hun. He spends a lot of time with my wife so I have always been interested in him…But no reason, really. By the way, on Jason…where did you say he trained before he came to San Diego?’

‘Um… I think it was Philadelphia…Yeah, Philly, that’s right, he said he went to Penn State U, I think it was, and he lived in Pittsburgh. What’s going on Matt? Why all these questions about Jason?’ she asked.

‘Look I’ll explain it all later,’ he said. ‘Gotta go.’

He ended the call. He had to move quickly. Jason would only be minutes away. Matt faced a dilemma. He couldn’t expose Jason for having these newspaper clippings and photographs because his search was illegal. They would be lost as inadmissible evidence in any trial.

He dropped to floor, slid under the desk and replaced the album. After sliding back out he lifted his manila folder, wiped any potential fingerprints, turned off the dull red light and made his way out of the room.

His panic levels sent bursts of Adrenalin coursing through his body. He had never before been confronted with the threatened mortality of a loved one.

Jason would be home any minute and if forced to confront him, Matt would not be able to control himself. He quickly made his way to the front door. His cell was still in his hand when he received a text message.

He paused before opening the front door to read the message. It was a message from Jason to Alicia. The roving bug in her phone picked up the message and sent it to him. The message read…

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about and I forgot to mention it at training. I will just pop over if that’s OK. Need to discuss. Very important.”

Matt’s eyes flared. ‘Shit,’ he blurted. He quickly opened the front door. He didn’t even bother to check if there were any nosy neighbors in sight. He stepped outside, slammed the door behind himself and ran to the street. He glanced down at the phone in his hand. Alicia had not responded to Jason’s text. Maybe she is in the shower.

His mind kept revisiting the black and white photo of Alicia with the red number eleven written on it. Despite his thoughts and plans to kill his wife because of her affair with Jason, he now knew he could never physically hurt her. Although he felt betrayed, he still loved her; he just didn’t realize it – until now.

His true feelings were suppressed deeply beneath the anger and hurt that consumed him. He fooled himself all along and deep down — really deep down, he knew it. He just wouldn’t let himself admit it.

His mechanism for coping with the humiliation and hurt from her betrayal had conjured up the irrational thoughts about how he would get even with his wife, but now that it appeared it could happen for real by the actual serial killer, he was petrified with fear.

He knew there was something about Jason that he didn’t like, but his usual reliable ability to get a read on him was influenced by the fact Jason was screwing his wife.

The pit of his stomach churned as sprinted to his car. His face was now etched in fear.

---

During his drive home he tried to call Alicia a number of times, but much to his growing despair, each call went to voice mail. His stomach churned. He felt helpless.

While most cars travelling in the same direction as Matt were obeying the speed limits, Matt’s speeding vehicle frantically weaved in and out of traffic like he was driving a slalom course, leaving them in his wake as he rocketed by.

It was only while he had the time to contemplate the possible consequences during his high speed drive home that he realized he still loved his wife and he didn’t want to think about living without her. He had to get home to save her from this person to whom she had the utmost trust.

His dangerous driving speeds had reduced the drive time from Pacific Beach to his home in La Jolla Shores from fifteen minutes to about seven minutes.

Matt’s vehicle’s front end suspension bounced violently when he entered his driveway under speed. He accelerated along their long, arrow straight drive way towards the house. His heart sank when he noticed Jason’s car parked outside the front door.

His vehicle had hardly stopped moving before he was out and running for the front door. He was now in FBI mode. He was now the hunter.

At the front door he cautiously tried the handle. It was unlocked. Alicia never left the front door unlocked; the net result of years of him nagging and whining about her safety, even with visitors in the house.

He turned the handle and slowly pushed opened the door. Without moving he drew his service revolver from the back of his jeans and chambered a round. Matt slowly pushed the door all the way open, to ensure there was no-one behind it.

He peered inside and scanned the immediate vicinity before slowly stepping his way inside his house, holding his pistol in front of him with both hands. His senses were honed to any sound, any movement. But there was nothing – total silence.

He cleared the rooms at the front of the house before returning to the hall. He started edging his way towards the rear of the house. This was not good. If Alicia had a visitor, especially someone she knew like Jason, it would be natural to expect to hear conversation, laughter, anything at all – but there was nothing; deafening silence. His instincts told him something was wrong.

As Matt arrived at the foot of the staircase he swung his Glock upwards towards the 1st floor. All clear. He lowered his weapon back to the front.

Matt slowly edged his way down the long hall with his firearm held in front of himself. He did his best to prevent the polished timber floorboards from creaking under his massive frame.

As he neared the back of the house he decided to call out.

‘Leece…?’

He listened, but there was no response. His heart pounded in his chest. The blood pumping in his ears was deafening. He tried again.

‘Alicia…It’s Matt…You about…?’ he called, but still no response. He continued to edge towards the rear kitchen and family room area of the house. His eyes darted like radars detecting movement or sound.

Matt continually checked over his shoulder, in case of a rear ambush as he slowly edged his way to the end of the hall.

When he arrived at the opening into the kitchen and family room, Matt paused. He quickly poked his head around the corner, checking to his left, then withdrew his head back, in case Jason was waiting.

As he pulled back he frowned. He noticed there was something on the floor to the left. He moved his head forward into the room again where he noticed Alicia lying on the family room floor to his left. She appeared to be unconscious.

‘Leece,’ he yelled. He ran towards her. His heart raced. Please don’t be dead.

At that moment when he saw his wife on the floor, everything he had learned, everything he knew about clearing a room before entering it, had gone out the window. All his training was completely forgotten as he quickly rushed towards his Alicia. His sole focus was on the welfare of his wife. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

If Matt had taken the time to follow FBI standard operating procedure and cleared the room before he entered it, he would have discovered Jason standing against the wall to Matt’s right. The baseball bat he held would’ve been no match for Matt’s Glock. Instead, when Matt stopped to bend down and check his wife, he was suddenly blinded by a bright white flash of light. Then nothing.

Chapter 31

By the time Matt awoke and gathered his senses, he found himself lying face down on the floor. Blood flowed from a large split on the back of his head.

Matt checked the source of the throbbing pain. He winced when he touched the sizable lump on the back of his head. He checked his hand. There was blood and lots of it.

The pressure behind his eyes felt like they were about to pop right out of his head. He had no idea where he was, or how he got to be face down on the floor.

His eyes drifted across to Alicia lying unconscious beside him. He dragged himself over to check she was alive. As he did so, he noticed someone standing nearby.

He rolled over onto his back and shielded his throbbing eyes as his failing vision stared up at the standing person. He frowned.

As his blurred vision cleared, he recognized Jason standing over him, holding a baseball bat. Matt could see Jason’s mouth moving, but the relentless ringing in Matt’s ears drowned out any discernible words.

A devious smirk filled Jason’s face as he raised the baseball bat over his head. Fortunately Matt still had enough cognitive awareness to realize he was about to be struck with that bat- again.

Matt forcefully drove his foot up into Jason’s groin. Jason grunted and reeled back, dropping the bat as he folded over, collapsing to his knees. His hands were shoved deep into his groin.

Matt tried to scramble to his feet as quickly as he could, but the severe concussion had him moving with the dexterity of a feeble, ninety year old man.

By the time he eventually made it to his feet and staggered and stumbled his way onto the rear balcony, Jason caught up with him. He tackled Matt to the ground.

Matt fell forwards onto his hands. When Jason climbed to his feet, Matt rolled onto his back. He crab crawled on all fours as fast as he could away from Jason. But Jason slowly walked towards him, grinning at him with the baseball bat resting on his shoulder.

Exhaustion got the better of Matt. He collapsed flat onto his back. He was no longer able to support his own weight. He heard Jason say something about killing Alicia and killing him too. Something about a package deal, but to Matt, the words were garbled.

Matt remained unmoved. He wasn’t able to fully comprehend Jason’s imminent threat. He was dizzy and momentarily lapsing in and out of consciousness.

Jason forcefully kicked Matt in the head, like he was kicking a soccer ball. Matt slumped to his side – unconscious.

When he eventually opened his eyes, everything was blurred. He had no idea how long he was out. The relentless ringing in his ears was deafening. His eyes tried to focus on Jason who now stood beside him.

He noticed Jason lift the baseball bat over his head, where it was poised ready strike down on Matt. But Matt couldn’t move. His mind screamed at him to flee, but his body couldn’t move.

Matt was unable to invoke his fight or flight instincts, so he simply conceded. He shut his eyes. He wasn’t about to watch what would certainly be the fatal blow being delivered on him.

For the first time ever, the fighter in him lost the will to fight. That initial blow to his head with the bat, when he entered the family room, had him beaten. His cognitive reaction and reflexes were similar to a punch-drunk fighter knocked out in the 15th round of a bout.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to resist any more, not if his wife was already dead. So with his eyes closed, he simply waited. Jason had won.

Matt startled. His eyes sprung open at the gunshot that rung out. A warm sensation sprayed across his face. Through his limited focus, he saw Jason slump to his knees, landing beside him.

When Jason landed, Matt saw Alicia standing behind Jason. Her eyes were glazed in a vague stare. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara. She pointed Matt’s pistol at Jason.

Matt’s focus flicked to Jason. Jason’s eyes were blank and staring straight ahead. His hand was against his blood soaked chest.

Matt’s eyes flicked back to Alicia. She was in a trance-like state as she walked up behind the wounded Jason. Her eyes remained fixed in an emotionless stare. She leveled the pistol, took aim and fired again.

This time it was a clean head shot to the back of Jason’s head. Matt’s eyes instinctively closed when his face was sprayed with blood and brain matter. The shot catapulted Jason’s body forward onto his stomach.

Alicia froze. She frowned at the pistol in her hand. Her questioning expression was as though she wondered why she was holding it. She dropped the weapon like it burnt her hand. The heavy pistol thudded onto the deck.

Her eyes flicked to her fallen husband on the ground beside Jason. She rushed to Matt and slid in beside him. She lifted his large head and cradled it lovingly against her body.

Matt sat on their family room sofa with a comforting arm around Alicia, who had nestled in beside him. He had a tight bandage around his head. Alicia tightly hugged a blanket that had been wrapped around her to help comfort her. Their expressionless faces stared blankly forward.

The shock from the traumatic experience had not fully sunk in. The body of Jason remained on the rear balcony while members from the Homicide Task Force and Crime Scene Officers photographed and examined the scene.

Both Matt and Alicia were examined in their home by attending Paramedics and cleared of any life threatening injuries.

The Paramedic who examined Matt however was of the opinion Matt would not only require stitches to his head, but he had suffered severe concussion and should be hospitalized for observations. Typically, Matt refused to go to. He did not want to leave his wife.

‘I’ll worry about the cut on my head tomorrow,’ Matt insisted.

Although it was not her preferred option, Alicia informed the Paramedic she was a trained nurse and reassured him that she would tend to the wound and monitor her husband’s vitals throughout the night.

The following morning a tired Matt and Alicia attended at the office of the Homicide Squad Task Force for statements and follow up. They had not slept well that night, if at all.

Alicia struggled to cope with the fact that she killed someone, especially someone she knew – or thought she knew.

Matt continued to reassure her that had she not shot Jason, neither of them would be here now. He reassured her that Jason intended to club him to death and kill her.

He also knew that Jason had Alicia earmarked as his 11th victim, but he couldn’t disclose to her how, or why he knew that information, so he reluctantly kept that to himself.

Detective Tom Carter welcomed his visitors and sat them down at his desk. After obtaining a glass of water for Alicia, he sat down to discuss the case.

‘After we left your house yesterday, we obtained a warrant to search Jason Bentley’s house,’ Tom began. Tom snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He reached down to the floor beside him and lifted a maroon colored photo album from a box and dropped it on the desk.

Matt’s eyebrows arched when he saw the album. He was relieved they found it in the hidden bedroom. He was also relieved he removed the naked pictures of Alicia from the wall.

‘During our search we located this album…’ Tom placed his hand flat on top of the album. He looked to Matt. ‘What I’m about to show you could be distressing to you both.’ He flicked open the album cover.

‘Jason Bentley was wanted in Philadelphia for the rape and murder of twenty-six women.’

Alicia’s hand shot up to her mouth.

Tom flicked through the pages showing Matt and Alicia the various news articles and photographs of the Philadelphia murders, before stopping at the San Diego killings.

‘He was also responsible for the rape and murder of ten women in the San Diego area over the last six months,’ Tom said.

Alicia’s head rolled to the side. It was difficult to discern if she was disappointed, or disgusted. She lifted her eyes to Matt sitting beside her. Her mouth opened. She appeared as though she wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

Matt gently shook his head and placed his arm around her to comfort her.

Tom watched on before continuing. He turned the pages of the newspaper articles and photographs, pausing at the pages relating to victim ten.

‘What I am about to show you may be distressing for you both…but I think you need to see this,’ Tom warned.

Tom slowly turned the page to the black and white photograph of Alicia. He tapped the red number eleven, then shifted his firm focus to Alicia and calmly said, ’It is quite apparent that you were to be his next victim – the 11th,’

Matt had seen it all before in Jason’s house, but she hadn’t. She had no idea the man she had an affair with was a wanted serial killer, who planned to add her to his growing list of victims.

Matt’s eyes lifted from the photograph to Alicia to monitor her reaction. She stared silently at the photograph. Matt knew Jason had suggested to Alicia that she leave him. So Jason’s infatuation must’ve soured when she refused.

Tom continued. ‘We found an entire wall of photos of you in the same room where we found this album,’ he said to Alicia. ‘I think there were fifty-three photographs in total. This man had an unhealthy and unnatural obsession with you, Mrs. Duncan,’ Tom said. ‘I think you were very fortunate your husband arrived home when he did…’

Alicia’s eyes met Matt’s.

‘And I’m lucky you knew how to shoot straight…’ Matt said. He squeezed his arm tighter around Alicia’s shoulder. She forced out a half smile in response.

‘Anyway…’ Tom continued, ‘I just wanted to show you what we found and to let you know that because of the actions of both of you… a very sick and dangerous individual has been stopped and the streets of San Diego are now much safer.’

’There may also be some families in Philly who will get some closure as well from the knowledge that this evil bastard is dead,’ Matt suggested.

Tom nodded in agreement.

‘Something has been puzzling me though, Detective,’ Matt began. ‘If this mongrel killed twenty-six women in Philly, using the same unique signature on each victim…why wasn’t that picked up earlier? Why wasn’t it linked to the San Diego killings?’

Tom returned a conceding nod. ’Unfortunately, our data recording was not very efficient. We spent all our time chasing this unknown offender, and neglected to update the electronic database, which as you know, is just as important.

‘When I contacted the BAU, the analysts they sent down was sharp. She ran crime scene analysis and case linkage analysis and was even able to prepare a basic offender profile for us. She was the one who linked the Philly murders to ours using the duct tape signature.’

‘So…you already knew about the connection with the Philly case?’ Matt asked.

’We did, but only just before you found that print. We chose not to release the information to anyone outside the task force. It wasn’t a straight forward find though.

’The analyst had to trawl through a number of different databases and records – across State and Federal boundaries, before she was able to find it, hence the untimely delays.

‘Once we found that print at the last victim, it was a lock. He was definitely our man.’

‘So Jason left a fingerprint during the earlier Philly murders?’ Alicia asked.

Tom nodded. ‘The first one,’ Tom said. ‘He left the print at his first crime scene…and nothing since. Problem was, the authorities at the time didn’t have anything to match the print to and he didn’t leave another print after that. He learned as he went on. He evolved, which is why his crimes scenes were so clean. He had a lot of practice.’

‘So how was it that he was so careless this time?’ Alicia said. ‘I mean, after what was it…nine murders…? You said the crime scenes were clean…yet he left his print at number ten… Isn’t that careless?’ Alicia said. She looked to Matt who silently her held er gaze.

He knew all too well how the print was found, so he let the Detective answer that one.

’That’s an interesting question Mrs. Duncan…and one that we in the Task Force have all considered. It was the analyst from the BAU that actually answered that question for us.

’She mentioned that as serial killers continue to offend without being captured, they become empowered; feeling they would never be caught.

’Some begin to take shortcuts when committing their crimes, or they become arrogant and start to take more chances that eventually lead to them being identified,’ Tom said. ’This is what we suspect happened in this case. So you see, it is not that the serial killer wants to get caught…he arrogantly feels that he is too good to get caught.’

Yeah, let’s go with that… Matt thought.

Chapter 32

Once the formalities at the SDPD were completed Matt drove via his office on their way home. Although he had been given time off from work to look after his wife, as well as his own health, he told Alicia there was something urgent he had to attend to in the office, before they returned home.

After parking his car in the bureau parking lot, he said, ‘You may as well wait here… I won’t be long.’

Alicia nodded. After making his way inside he quickly made his way to the Comms room and without speaking to anyone, he accessed a spare console, logged in and removed the roving bug from Alicia’s cell phone. It never existed.

From the Comms room he made his way to his desk. Apart from the occasional courteous silent head nod greetings, he avoided discussions about how he felt and what he was doing there.

Once at his desk, he opened the bottom drawer. He stared at the contents which he had earlier purchased as part of his grand plan to deflect suspicion away from him once Alicia was dead.

The purchase was designed to help portray him as the loving husband whose future plans with his loving wife were ruined by The Coastal Killer. He now realized how close that came to being reality.

He scoffed to himself and shook his head. He rubbed his forehead. What a fucking idiot.

His mind drifted to thoughts of what could have been. What if I hadn’t planted Jason’s fingerprint at the crime scene of the 10th victim? What if I hadn’t tried to plant the newspaper clippings in Jason’s house…?

He was overcome with the realization that he could very well be mourning the loss of his beautiful wife, claimed as that monster’s 11th victim. And what’s more, Jason would still be free to continue his murdering ways – just like in Philly. No-one would know any different.

Matt didn’t know which emotion was more dominant right now; fear, anger or sheer relief.

He removed something from the bottom drawer then closed the drawer with his foot. From there he exited the building; no goodbyes, no see you later to his colleagues, nothing. He walked straight out.

Although not for the reasons initially intended, this item would now be of benefit in assisting them both through the long and arduous healing process that was to follow.

When he returned to the car he was distressed to find Alicia crying. She held a tissue tightly bunched up in her right hand, which was being supported on her lap by her left hand. Her eyes were reddened and her cheeks were streaked with mascara. She sobbed as she watched Matt slide into the driver’s seat.

‘What’s wrong Hun…? Are you OK?’ Matt was concerned for having left her alone so close to the traumatic shooting.

Alicia shook her head in response. She brushed her fringe from her eyes. ‘No…’ She dabbed her eyes with the tissue. ‘I’m not OK…’ Her head lowered and she stared into her hands. ‘I have something…something that I have to tell you…’ she began. ‘Something that you need to know…’

Matt knew exactly where this was heading. He knew she was about to confess her sordid affair with Jason; an affair with the man who had just tried to kill them both.

He didn’t need to hear it. He had been through all the anger and all the hurt and he was emerging out the other side.

While he realized it was probably part of Alicia’s healing process, and also probably a way for her to purge the guilt from her wrongdoings, he didn’t want to hear it; not today – maybe not ever.

Matt reached over and took her hand and sandwiched it between his large hands. He looked into her eyes. ‘I don’t care…’ He said directly. ‘If what you want to tell me involves you and that bastard…’ he said. ‘Then I don’t want to hear it. OK…?’ he rubbed her hand. ‘He was an evil, violent, manipulative man – a very sick man,’ Matt looked deep into her eyes. ‘What has happened is the past…it can’t be changed,’ he said. ‘I’m just so thankful that I still have you.’

Alicia burst into tears. Her beautiful face distorted from her uncontrollable surge of emotions.

After several minutes of consoling her, Matt placed the item he retrieved from his desk drawer onto Alicia’s lap. Her eyes dropped to the white standard sized envelope on her lap. She frowned.

‘What’s this?’

Matt lifted his chin to the envelope. ‘Open it,’ he said with a reassuring smile.

Her eyes dropped back to the envelope. She lifted it up. She slowly parted the envelope and peered inside. Her hand shot up to her mouth.

Matt smiled at her reaction. ‘I thought we both could do with a break…’ he said. ‘A chance to take the time to appreciate what we have together…and despite what has happened…a chance to celebrate the fact that we still have each other.’

Alicia’s eyes lifted to Matt. Her eyes, although puffy and reddened from her tears, suddenly showed a sign of life – a tiny glimmer of her usual sparkle returned.

‘Cancun…’ she smiled.

Matt nodded. ‘I thought…what better place than where we first met.’ He gestured to the envelope. ‘Those right there are two first class tickets to Cancun, Mexico, where we will be staying for ten days at the same resort we stayed at when we first met…’

Alicia nodded. ’Temptation Resort,’ she said.

Matt smiled. ’It would be like a 2nd honeymoon for us. What do you say…?’

Alicia’s eyes welled with tears as she stared at the e-tickets inside the envelope. She lifted her teary eyes from the tickets to meet Matt’s gaze.

For the first time since the tragedy of last night, the sad and the hurt had vanished, even if only for a brief moment. Her face once again hosted her beautiful smile.

She extended her arms out towards Matt. ‘I say yes…’ she said smiling at him. Matt responded by embracing his wife. ‘I say yes…yes please,’ she repeated.