A Killer's Daughter Read online

  After the attack, the disposal of the bodies included simply letting them float away. She speculated that the perpetrator likely bathed in the same waters. With the bodies removed from the scene, choosing to leave the blankets and garments as evidence, reinforced her belief of the unsub’s confidence at escaping apprehension for these crimes.

  The Intracoastal Waterway’s moving water and changing tides gave the perp time to put distance between them and the victims, while showing disregard for the deceased. To the killer, this pair merited no respect. To the unsub, they were not people. Once finished with them, they were trash, disposable as an empty water bottle.

  She scanned her profile and then sent a link to the preliminary report to Demko and Crean, more worried than ever. This was a smart, experienced and vicious killer whose confidence would only grow.

  Nadine knew that if this were a serial killer, their cooling-off period could be as little as a few days. Her mother had gone years between kills. However, if she were right, this was only the first of four acts.

  Had the killer already targeted the next couple? She needed more to connect these crimes to her mother’s homicides than a hunch, paranoia and a length of rope. And she knew where to get it. It was time to visit her big brother.

  Saturday morning, travel mug of coffee in hand, Nadine drove north to Lawtey Correctional, as she did once a month, to visit an inmate. Her brother had not legally changed his name, like her, and remained Arlo Howler.

  After clearing security, she waited in the visitors’ area, a dreary concrete room between a glass observation office and a catwalk where armed guards watched from above, like perching eagles.

  Arlo strode in. His incarceration had not dampened his swagger. She smiled and stood beside the fixed table and bolted-down stools that she had chosen.

  She knew he was here for good reason after attacking his girlfriend. The charge had been reduced in a plea deal to sexual assault, largely due to the girlfriend’s refusal to testify, but Nadine knew it was battery and rape. Since he was her brother, she couldn’t help but love Arlo, but in her heart, she thought the parole board was right to deny his early release.

  “There she is. The new forensic psychiatrist.”

  He always got her title wrong. She smiled and kissed his cheek. That got the guards on the catwalk shouting about physical contact as they separated and took a seat.

  “How goes the new job?” asked Arlo.

  “It’s good.”

  “Listen, sis. I appreciate the money you send. It makes life possible in here.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’re welcome.”

  “I was wondering, now that you got a new job, do you think you could send a little extra? It’s been the same amount for years and things cost more.”

  She thought of her student loans, car payment and the apartment that blew her budget.

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Great. So, what’s up?”

  Arlo had been eight when Arleen had killed Charlie Rogers and Gail DeNato, while she had been only two. He’d have specifics about the cases and about their mother that she couldn’t. He might know the triggers to her mother’s murders, how she selected her victims or any number of details not found in any record. And if she was right, and this killer was imitating her mother’s murders, this sort of information could help her create her profile.

  “I got a new assignment. I need your opinion.”

  “Yeah? Does it involve mopping floors? Because I’m a whiz at that.”

  “It doesn’t, unfortunately.” She smiled. Her brother looked too thin and extremely pale. His brown hair was limp and needed a trim. Seemed he hadn’t shaved this week, either. But the mischief in his eyes was still there.

  “Do you know if anything happened to Mom right before she killed that first couple, Rogers and DeNato?”

  “In ’94?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something traumatic. A breakup, a death in the family.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing like that. She got fired, though. I remember, because I had to walk home. Four miles, and when I got there, the place was empty, dark.”

  “How do you know she was fired?”

  “She told me the next day. She came home drunk with some guy. That wasn’t unusual. But she’d always picked me up. The next morning, he was gone, and she said that bitch in the showroom had it in for her. Said she needed to get work, or they’d take our car.”

  Was her mother’s trigger losing her job? “What’s this about, Dee-Dee?”

  She knew two things: Arlo was dangerous but had protected her more than once during their childhood. Plus, she trusted him completely. That was why she was going to reveal case details that were confidential.

  “You can’t share what I’m going to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it. Not with anyone.”

  “Yeah. I heard you. What’s going on?”

  “We had a double homicide in the city.” She told him they had two victims in the water, one male, one female.

  “That’s odd,” he said.

  “I saw the bodies.”

  He glanced about, leaned in, whispering. “How?”

  “The autopsy.”

  He held his hand to his chest and exhaled. “Thank God.”

  “Arlo, I’m assigned as a profiler.”

  “You mean like on TV?”

  “Yeah, I suppose. Listen.” She told him about the carving on the ring fingers and the one on the woman’s backside. “You know if Mom did anything like that?”

  “Mom’s in prison.”

  “Yes, I got the memo. I’m afraid of a copycat.”

  “Oh, God!” Arlo wiped his hand over his mouth and then blew out a breath. “No. I never heard about that.”

  “You went to her trial.”

  “Some of it. I was working, so I went when I could.” Arlo looked sickened and that was unusual. He had a high tolerance for gore, unfortunately.

  “But she used a rope?” she asked.

  “Yeah. She definitely tied her couples together with two deviations. The second couple was killed at separate times and places, but she still put a rope on each of them and cut the end. Then, on the last couple, she hadn’t quite finished with them, so no rope.”

  She sat back. Worried. Perhaps she was overreacting. The rope connecting them might have been used just to drag them to the water.

  “You think that losing her job was her trigger?”

  Arlo held his fist before his mouth and then spoke again. “I’m sure it was part of it, but she hated that woman. Really loathed her. Called her a ‘skank’ and a ‘homewrecker’ because she was doing the guy she worked with. The one in the warehouse. So, tell me about the bodies.”

  She got that prickle of warning again. The sparkle in Arlo’s eyes made her hesitate. She wasn’t certain if he was interested in order to help her or for reasons of his own. She changed the subject and chatted with Arlo about her job and his application to join a program to train service dogs. She thought that would be good for him.

  Nadine left the prison with a better picture of her mother’s mental state before the first couple’s murder. Unfortunately, nothing she’d heard had convinced her there wasn’t some link between those crimes and this new death investigation.

  When she got to her car, she wondered again about telling Demko about the commonalities she was noting between this homicide investigation and her mother’s homicides. But then she recalled the unanswered questions regarding his hasty and unexpected departure from the Miami-Dade police force. She needed to do more digging before she trusted him with this.

  Before leaving the lot, she made a call to a classmate from graduate school who worked in Miami-Dade County and got his voicemail. She left a message specific enough that he would know what she was after, just to save time and give him the opportunity to ignore her call if he didn’t feel like speaking to her about why Detecti
ve Clint Demko made such a suspicious job change.

  Getting to be a homicide cop was hard. And it was a position of honor and respect in all police forces. To gain that post, he would have had to work his way up through other departments, receive specialized training and have made more than a few important arrests. Why throw that all away and start over at a smaller, less active department?

  It didn’t make sense.

  Five

  Recon couple two

  Places remote enough for clandestine lovers make excellent spots for murder.

  The secluded preserve doesn’t even have a security camera. This spot adds another city and different county to the tangle of jurisdictions. I’m not sure if Arleen did this intentionally, but it certainly worked in her favor. Many hands might make light work, but too many cooks spoil the investigation.

  I park behind my choice’s car and watch her gather her beach bag and chair. She strolls to the nature trail as I lift the kayak and carry it to the launch, twenty feet away, then return for my paddle and pack.

  Emulating Arleen’s work is more difficult than I imagined. My usual targets are runaways. But hers double the risk. That alone merits my homage. And she demands respect. She wants to draw Nadine in as much as I do.

  I’m sure that her daughter noted the similarities and the differences between my work and her mother’s. Nadine was young then. How much does she remember and how much was kept from her? I’m thinking plenty. But she is a bright girl. She’ll catch on.

  Were they too different?

  Arleen stabbed Gail DeNato in the neck, while I slit Debi’s throat. And I never hit David Lowe in the head before I cut. Worst of all, I forgot to take their clothing. It was wrong.

  I’ve spoiled them. I ball my fists in fury at the realization and at my mistakes, and hurl my pack to the shoreline. For several minutes, I fume. Then I collect my gear and launch the kayak.

  Today is just a scouting mission. I’ve chosen my next pair and will witness them betray their vows for fleeting gratification. My gratification will follow.

  I glide along the shore past a place where the nature trail opens to the water and spot her again, setting up her chair on white sand. The wide-brimmed hat doesn’t hide her long dark hair, secured in a practical braid. She settles in her seat with irrational confidence, as if she is safe here.

  A white egret glides in, landing in the shallow waters of the inlet. Hope retrieves her digital camera from the tote.

  I sweep past her before heading bow-first into the tangle of arching mangrove roots. The narrow gap beneath them gives views of the water and the motorboat making a course straight for her. The motor slows and idles as the single man turns the craft and backs in. He deploys the anchor and moves to the stern. She is already on her feet, meeting him in the shallow water as he helps her aboard. The pair disappears and I don’t think the rocking is due only to the gentle waves lapping the hull.

  What a lovely private place for a rendezvous.

  Six

  Fuel to the fire

  On Monday morning, Nadine arrived early to find Crean waiting at Tina’s reception counter and puffing like a power lifter preparing for a difficult weight. She held a newspaper in Nadine’s face. Beside the political headline was this:

  Police Hire Profiler for Recent Double Homicide.

  “The newspaper has confirmed that the Bayfront Park deaths are homicides and that we’ve provided a profiler.”

  Panic gripped her.

  “Call this reporter and tell him you have no comment.” She extended a Post-it.

  Nadine took it. “I will.”

  Crean spun and stomped away as Nadine diverted to the coffeemaker behind Tina’s desk, calling the number as her coffee brewed. The reporter was very persistent, so Nadine hung up on her. Then she spent the morning reviewing her profile, including that this unsub likely experienced a violent family resulting in prior court contact and included a history of truancy, suspension or expulsion from school. She read over her notes and closed the document and sent the update to Demko as an attachment.

  By midmorning, she’d heard from the office assistant that two men were in custody. Both had confessed to the double homicide. Nadine’s hopes dropped when she reached Demko by phone to learn that neither detainee got the cause of death right.

  “They just parroted the news story. Thought the victims were shot.” His sigh came through loud and clear. “But the press got one detail right. They were murdered. It’s official. We have a leak.”

  Nadine’s disappointment cut deep.

  “Listen, I gotta go,” he said.

  Demko phoned back after she returned to her desk with a deli sandwich and chips. He had a nice voice. Stressed, but nice.

  “You got anything else for us?” he asked.

  “I added a preliminary report to the file share.”

  “Give me the highlights.”

  “This killer experienced or witnessed violence at home. Likely had some court contact or arrest as a juvenile. The MO shows the killer is organized, confident and premeditative, choosing specific targets. Surveillance is likely involved. In other words, this unsub is targeting victims because they match some characteristic or criteria.”

  “Infidelity?”

  “It’s on my short list.”

  “So, following the vics?” he asked.

  “Likely more than once. Learning their habits before choosing a time and place. Preparing entrance and exit and bringing necessary equipment.”

  “Agreed. I’ve asked for patrols in known hangouts.”

  “A good idea.”

  “What else?” he asked.

  “Killer uses a blitz-style attack.”

  “He sure the hell does.”

  Nadine gave an audible snort at this and continued. “Look for individuals picked up with psychiatric disorders.”

  “In addition to earlier crimes and possible sexual assault or theft you mentioned at the autopsy?”

  He got points for listening, she thought.

  “Yes.”

  “You think our killer has a record?”

  “Possible. A third of these sorts of killers have been diagnosed with a mental disorder. Many have prior contact with social workers resulting from truancy or school suspensions.”

  “But not necessarily arrested,” he added. “And medical records are closed.”

  “It’s a starting place.” It was all she could offer.

  “White male, right?”

  An image of her mother flashed in her mind.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Not even necessarily male. Likely, but not definitely.”

  “But most serials don’t kill outside their race,” he said. “Right?”

  “They can. They have, on rare occasions.”

  He paused, and she waited for him to process this change to his perception.

  “What do you make for motive?” he asked. “This a jilted lover or someone who can’t get off with a woman?”

  “I don’t know. Sex. Displaced anger. Past breakups?”

  Nadine wondered again if revealing the connection to her mother’s cases would help solve this case or be leaked and give the killer an advantage.

  For all she knew, Demko might be the leak.

  Bottom line: too many unknowns. She didn’t trust him.

  And there was no hurry. Time was on her side. There had been six years between her mother’s first murders and the next couple, when Nadine had been eight years old.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “Experience with a blade, knowledge of the area, owns a vehicle, active in the community with few personal friends,” she said.

  “Well, if you’re right, we have a proficient hunter in a public space, who killed and dumped the vics. Then walked away.”

  “Or swam or… I don’t know.” She did know. “Paddled?”

  According to her research, her mother had used her vehicle and the family’s battered aluminum canoe to get to and from her kill sites. Na
dine recalled playing in that canoe, dragging the craft from beneath the trailer, imagining adventures. She recalled the sour smell, wondering if it was mildew, as she’d assumed, or something darker.

  “Hadn’t thought of that,” said Demko.

  “We agree these murders seem premeditated. So, I’d look for similar crimes elsewhere. Less decisive attacks. This could mean not fatal stabbings or brutalizing animals.”

  There would be some. She was certain. Whether there would be a record was another question.

  “They could be anywhere in the country. He or she might have a route that includes southwest Florida. The trick is to find the first. That one might be personal or have been committed in home territory.” She was on a roll, but that should have been a warning. “If we find that first murder and are very lucky, the killer could have known the victim, while these recent ones are more likely to fit some criteria established early on.”

  “I’ll look in the databases for stabbings,” said Demko.

  “Dumped in water,” she added, realizing belatedly that her mother’s victims would pop up on that search.

  Her mother’s bodies were all recovered in water. No wait. Not all. There had been the forest ranger and, also, the last pair, the ones Arleen never had time to dump… because of her.

  On the last period of Friday, Nadine walked into math, the sole high school freshman in the mixed group of sophomores taking Algebra 1 for the first time and juniors and seniors, repeating. It was the one class she shared with Sandra and her groupies. Nadine glanced about the room, immediately noted Sandra’s absence, and sighed in relief, delighted. Possibly Sandra’s little clique might let her be. But then she realized the only empty seat was behind Madison and Emily, two of Sandra’s favorites.