Chapter 8

The news of twelve bodies found in what the press was now calling the Killing Field spread fast. There were reporters from all over the county and even some coming in from as far as San Antonio and Austin. They picked up the information on their police scanners and started to swarm looking for anyone who wanted to talk about uncovering the bodies.

Lloyd contacted the community resource officer, briefed him and told him to handle the press. “I have more important things to do than to answer some stupid reporter’s stupid question.”

Television and radio news stations set up vans, photojournalists started to take pictures and reporters were looking for angles and hooks. Some enterprising reporter went as far as to knock on the door of the Styles Academy to get a quote only to have the Academy issue a no-comment statement.

“Let’s let the police do their investigation,” Melissa said as she firmly shut the door in the intrepid reporter's face.

Veronica and Curtis were on their bikes heading back home when Veronica saw the first fleet of news crews coming down the road.

“Time to go,” she told Curtis. “It will do us no good to be caught here.”

“Right,” Curtis picked up his bike and Veronica followed him back to the house.

The news shook the entire town. People wanted to know what the police were going to do and the police chief held several press conferences telling the public that the Cortez Police Department was doing everything in its power to bring the killer to justice and to ensure the safety of every citizen.

“It is like everyone thinks they are the next victim when they hear that there is a serial killer out there,” the chief commented after one particular presser where a reporter asked if the town was ever going to be safe again.

He wanted to tell them the typical victim was 15 to 20 years old, had brown hair and brown eyes, and was female. Not many people in this town really fit that description. The killer preferred young girls and that was terrifying enough.

Lloyd received a call from the chief who asked Lloyd to join him in his office. Lloyd sighed, he really wasn’t in the habit of giving minute-by-minute updates.

“Sir,” Lloyd entered the office without preamble, “with all due respect, I can’t do my job if you are calling me in here every five minutes.”

“Lieutenant Feldman, this is FBI Field Agent Brandon Row,” the chief introduced him to a young man standing in the corner. “He is here to help with the investigation. We want to throw every available asset at this case and the FBI has agreed to help.”

Oh great, Lloyd thought, I have to babysit on top of solving this case, “Sir, I am sure we can handle this.”

“This is a serial killer, Feldman,” the chief said. “One who is active. You will accept Agent Row’s help, get him acquainted with the cases and the town. That is all, Lieutenant.”

Brandon Row walked out of the office in front of Lieutenant Feldman, “I guess we can get started by looking at the killing field. Then I will need access to all the autopsy reports.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes and escorted Row to his car, “I will take you to where we found the bodies, but we have reason to believe that is just the dumping ground. Not where the homicides took place.”

“Where do you think the killer committed his crimes?” Brandon asked.

“We haven’t found that yet,” Lloyd admitted.

Brandon just nodded, opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, “I understand you have a team working on this right now.”

Lloyd nodded, turned on the car and pulled out of the police station, “We are looking for witnesses and trying to identify all the victims. We can only positively identify one victim. The others, we don’t know.”

Brandon didn’t comment. He was thinking about the best way to solve this case quickly. He was out of the Houston office and was in line for a promotion. His superior told him solving this case would open a lot of doors for him. Brandon asked why they didn’t send a more experienced agent. Most FBI profilers wanted to work a serial killer case and since there were only a hundred active cases in the United States, it would make sense to send one of the more seasoned agents.

“Here is the field where we found all those girls,” Lloyd said. “We have several technicians combing the area for evidence. Footprints, dropped clothing, the like.”

Brandon got out of the car and walked up the hill, “he might park his car right there and carry the body up. Do you have a good set of tire tracks?”

“Well,” Lloyd said adjusting his pants, “there were a lot of tire marks from the media vans, the crime scene unit and other patrol cars.”

“So you compromised your crime scene before you knew what you were dealing with?”

“We didn’t know. Look,” Lloyd said defensively, “there was a call from a couple of kids who were in the area, they said they might have found something.”

“Where is that in your report, what are their names, did you clear them as suspects?” Brandon asked.

Lloyd decided to keep the Conway kids out of the investigation. He didn’t want the media bothering the family, nor did he want the killer to retaliate against Veronica.

“We thought we were dealing with one death,” Lloyd continued. “Not twelve.”

“I want to talk to the kids,” Brandon said. “They might know more than they are letting on. Sometimes killers draw the police to their crimes to bring attention to how clever they are. Especially if the police are having a hard time finding their victims in the first place.”

“Are you saying what I think you are saying?” Lloyd was incested. “You are saying that our department is incompetent?”

“The killer killed twelve times,” Brandon pointed out. “And you needed a kid to help you get this break. Now, what if the kid is the real killer?”

“You know how deranged that sounds?” Lloyd asked. “If you knew them, you wouldn’t think they had anything to do with what happened to these girls.”

Lloyd knew Curtis was strong, hell he saw the kid fight, but that doesn’t mean he is a killer.

“That is the point,” Brandon said. “I am not that close and I am able to look at everyone in the community and picture him as the killer. I think we need to talk to those kids and do a full investigation, just until they are cleared.”

“You want to stir up a hornet’s nest by investigating a boy who happened to stumble on the grave of a young girl?” Lloyd said. “Look, kid…”

“I am not your kid,” Brandon said, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t need your help doing this job.”

“I know you are not my kid,” Lloyd said. “I don’t have a son. If you try these heavy handed tactics, the citizens will run you out of this city. This is not your typical community. Some of these families have been here since Cortez’s founding. Most of these families are very affluent. They are not going to take kindly to you questioning every 14-year-old boy you see.”

“I wouldn’t have to question every 14-year-old boy I see,” Brandon said. “Just the one who found the body.”

“I can’t do that,” Lloyd shook his head. The Conways would close ranks tighter than a clam and with them would go Veronica.

“We can get a lot farther if you cooperate,” Brandon said.

“I don’t think you understand,” Lloyd said. “I would cooperate. These families are not going to cooperate. Some won’t speak to you without their attorneys.”

“These families are affluent?” Brandon asked. “You cross referenced the victims with your missing persons files and nothing matched, I’ll bet.”

“You are right,” Lloyd said. “None of the girls matched any of our open missing persons cases.”

Brandon looked at the field, it was near the river and near the school. Good location for something, why was it never developed, he wondered.

“Why is this a field?” Brandon asked Lloyd. “There is a school over there and a retail area on the other side of the school, but all this is raw?

“The owner is 80 years old and is holding on to the property,” Lloyd said. “He has four standing offers from several purchasers including the family who owns the school. He just doesn’t want to sell.”

“We might have our answer as to why,” Brandon said. “He might be hiding something.”

“You think an 80-year-old man is responsible for what we found two days ago?” Lloyd looked at him.

Brandon rolled his eyes, “No, but his son might be responsible, a nephew, a grandson, a male cousin. Maybe we should look into the ownership and make sure the guy really controls this land. He might not have the ability to accept any of these four offers.”

Lloyd never considered the possibility that the land was tied to the crime. He thought it was a convenient location for the killer to dump the girls because there wasn’t much traffic after a certain time.

“What made you go in that direction?” Lloyd asked.

“My younger sister is a developer,” Brandon said as he walked back to his truck. He wanted to pull out his computer and check something. “With all of the projects she oversaw, she changed the face of our little town. I watched her do it and it really changes the way you look at land.”

Lloyd just nodded. He watched Brandon as Brandon logged on to his laptop and went into the local database. “What are you looking for?”

“I want to check the last 50 missing girls cases,” Brandon’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he brought up all the missing girls cases within the age range of the victims. “Looks like you know how to solve a missing persons case. Most of these are resolved. Four found dead of overdose, and 40 reunifications. FBI missing persons can learn a thing from you.” He said dryly.

“We have the privilege and the advantage of knowing most of our community,” Lloyd said. “We are at their schools, we are at their games, we are invited to their birthday parties. Hell, I knew a lot of what was going on when my girls were in school. From the time they were five to graduation. Not hard to do in a small town with only two school districts. Some of their sons and daughters volunteer for the force, some come and work on the force.”

“A population of 100,000 is not a small town,” Brandon said.

“It is when you have seven societies to keep up with and you can divide your squad into those societies.” Lloyd said. “And most of those societies overlap.”

“How convenient,” Brandon said. “They group themselves so you don’t have to.”

“People generally do,” Lloyd said. “They like who they like, congregations, churches, and the like. Look, when Judy from Westbrook goes missing, we generally know where to look. In fact, we generally know she will run away before she runs away. When Marcella from the east side of town runs away with her boyfriend, we know where to look.”

“Where do you start in that situation,” Brandon asked.

“Southside. The Lobos gang has made it a no-go zone for us, but we have our ways of getting in there as well,” Lloyd said. “Our citizens trust us, we haven’t given them any reason not to.”

Brandon closed his laptop. Lloyd wasn’t going to give up the kids but Brandon wasn’t giving up. He had to find a way to earn Lloyd’s trust.

Keith felt on top of the world. His insurance business was growing, he had several appointments that would turn into clients, his commercial division launched and everything was going his way. His wife would have dinner made, the kids should be playing outside and the world was as it should be, he thought.

He pulled into his driveway and noticed that his neighbor was not home yet, but after living there for a few weeks, he noticed Marc Anthony kept odd hours. Something about being a private investigator. Keith learned a lot about him over the several times they all had dinner together. Enough for Keith to know Marc Anthony was not a threat.

He walked into his house and noticed everything was quiet, just how he liked it when he got home. Nancy knew how to run the house, he thought, as he went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of tea. He flipped on the news and dropped his glass when he saw an aerial shot of the place where he buried his girls. He was livid, those were his girls, no one was supposed to touch them.

“Keith,” Nancy came in and saw the broken glass, “are you OK?”

“I am fine, clean this up before one of the kids cuts himself on it,” he walked away from the mess. It was impossible. How did they find his girls? Someone was going to pay for this.

“I saw the news, it has been on a loop all day,” Nancy said as she grabbed the broom and dustpan. She started sweeping up the broken glass. ‘It is so awful. Those poor girls.”

Keith made a noncommittal sound, walked into his office and shut the door. Nancy knew not to come into his office when he was busy and right now he just got busy.

Nancy, still talking, looked around for Keith and realized that she was talking to herself. She let out a long-suffering sigh; she spent most days talking to herself.

Keith, who left the conversation, picked up his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Hey, Phelps, how are you doing?” Keith asked. “How is the family?”

“Everyone is doing great,” came the answer. “What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if you were able to get me that appointment with your benefits coordinator,” Keith said. “I have some time available. I know you said it would take some time, but I found a program that will reduce cost for the force and increase benefits for the officers.”

“I am so sorry,” William Phelps said sincerely. “We are swamped here with a huge case.”

Keith took the opening.

“I just saw the news about those girls,” Keith said. “It is awful. What are the police doing?”

“Well,” the officer said. “We pulled twelve girls out of that field, we are working on identifying them, oh and we have a FBI field agent consulting with us. So we should have someone in custody real soon. Don’t worry about it, Keith. We will catch the bastard.”

That is what I am afraid of, Keith thought. He will have to keep an eye on the investigation. He knew his friend would talk about anything he knew to feel important and Keith knew how to make people feel important. Well, until he no longer needed them.

“Hey,” Keith thought of something. “How did you find the girls’ bodies?”

“Someone stumbled on them and called it in,” the informant told him.

“Really,” Keith said. “That was lucky, hey if you hear anything more, let me know. I am interested in what happens. They say it is the work of a serial killer.”

“Yes,” the officer said. “It does look that way.”

Keith said goodbye and broke the connection. He had to stay on top of the investigation. How the hell did someone find the bodies? No one used that field, the woods that went around it were acres deep and the street was a quiet one with very little traffic. He needed to have a fall guy just in case and remembered Marc Anthony and his odd hours and behavior. He had enough evidence to plant on Foster to convict him and Foster would get the needle. Just one call and it will all be over, but Keith wanted to hold off on it. Keith decided to keep the information about Marc Anthony in his back pocket, just in case he needed it.