What an awful foil against which to examine a body in the water, he thought, even worse than doing so below the thousand or so windows of the Flamingo Hilton Beach Resort. At the lighthouse, there would be little children about, dogs and Frisbees, sand castles and sea urchins to chase. But looking around now, he saw children already locating the pool at the resort while others impatiently waited with sand buckets and colorful shovels in hand so they might hit the beach.
“ So, tell me… what exactly do you have out there, Owen?”
He silently prayed for a stabbing victim, a drowned surfer, anything but another sampling of the work of the Night Crawler.
“ Ted and I both concur, sir, that it’s the work of the Night Crawler.”
“ Goddamn it all! Are you absolutely certain?”
“ Absolutely, yes. Unfortunately, all the signs, sir.”
“ Were the hands bound in front with a black nylon boating rope?”
“ As a matter of fact, they were, and the same rope was tied about her throat.”
“ Sounds like we’ve got the makings of a… a hat trick…”
“ A hat trick, sir?”
“ Hockey, Doctor… You remember hockey, don’t you? I’m talking about mass murder, possibly three victims in a single day, if Coran’s victim is also one of his.”
“ Oh, yeah, ice hockey… hat trick, sure… gotcha, Dr. Coudriet.”
“ Damn… damn…”
“ So your victim, sir… was a bound female, nude except for the ropes with the same ligature marks, same time in the water, sir?”
“ One and the same, but not so long in the water as previous victims, no…”
“ That is unusual, isn’t it?” Powers was a master of the obvious.
“ Two victims, a possible third, all given to us on the same day, yes, Powers, damn you… damned unusual. Have you gotten what you may from the body at this point?”
“ Wasn’t really much to get. The usual samples were impossible to take, but yes, sir, we did what we could with what little we had.” “How’re you doing with it, Powers?”
“ Sir?” He sounded confused. “Are you and Thorn holding up?”
“ Well… yes, sir, but I gotta tell you, I really hate these floater bodies, sir, and Thorn about came unglued when we turned her in the water.”
“ Get everything into the lab; I’ll see both of you back there. Tell the press nothing at this point, and especially nothing about the ropes, do you understand? This will have to be handled delicately. Leave it to our PR guys.” He cut off communication with the younger doctor and asked the waiting officer just outside the car if he’d call in and have him patched through to the first crime scene. “I want that FBI guru, Jessica Coran, or her boss, Santiva.”
The officer got him patched through to Santiva. “What’s the word there, Agent Santiva? Does Coran think it’s the work of the Night Crawler?” Coudriet feared the answer.
“ She does indeed. And your location? What’s going on there?”
“ I’d say we’re being courted by this bastard, Santiva. I mean, we’re given three gifts from the bastard, Santiva… three all at once. He’s like a fucking cat now, bringing his dead to us as prizes for show.”
“ Three? And that’s a lock? We’re sure that all three are victims of the same killer?”
“ Think he’s trying to tell us something?”
News of the triple-sightings of bodies by civilians and the confirmed triple-slaying by the Night Crawler, all along Miami’s seashore resorts, left a burning trail of curiosity- seekers and media sharks from one end of the city to the other, one insensitive radio talk show host likening it to “beached whales-only now we got beached babes!” He didn’t seem to care that the victims’ families might be listening. The Chamber of Commerce, the mayor and his deputies were hastily applying Band-Aid measures to shore up the image of their beautiful city, but too late. The damage was done.
TV and newsprint media saturated viewers and readers with whatever few details had made it past the police PR team assigned to minimize the deaths and maximize the appearance that everything humanly possible was being done to end the nasty little career of the Night Crawler.
The triple murder was being analyzed by psychiatrists across the city as a throwing down of the gauntlet, as a slap to the collective face of law enforcement and Police Commissioner Orlando Everette. Jessica and others working the case were hounded and harassed and bombarded with microphones, cameras and inane questions at every turn and down every corridor. “What’re the police doing?”
“ How’re you FBI people helping?”
“ Why isn’t anything being done?”
“ Who’s responsible for this?”
“ Will he strike again, soon?”
“ Where will he strike again?”
“ Is it true that one of the bodies was a copycat killing, maybe two of them?”
“ Is it true that one of the bodies hadn’t been in the water as long as the other two?”
Jessica and Santiva plowed through with “no comments,” geysering forth until they came to a door which was off limits to press, closing it behind them, knowing how foolish they would look on the six and eleven o’clock broadcasts.
They were led through another door and down a passageway to Dr. Coudriet’s Crime Lab Unit, with its adjacent morgue. Jessica still had to log in the evidence she was carrying from her seawater crime scene. Here it would be logged by date, tag number and item description and then she would have to sign off on it. This done, she could begin her lab work and analysis of the evidence-such as it was.
They soon located the evidence lockup and Jessica filled in forms which indicated every piece of evidence she had collected, each item now logged in on a manifest. This took some time, so Eriq located a nearby coffee machine and brought back a Styrofoam cup filled with the black liquid for Jessica. She hadn’t had any breakfast, so the coffee was welcomed.
“ What kind of monster is behind this?” she asked Santiva as she finished up the necessary paperwork, not expecting an answer. “The damned reporters want to know if and when and where it will continue-stupid questions.”
“ Well, it’s not like we can read minds or look into the future,” he replied, “but on the other hand, we are the experts. Who else’re they going to come to for answers?”
“ Then maybe we’d best work with the press, the Herald at least, as we promised?” She gulped down the remainder of her coffee, which had gone lukewarm.
“ Leave that to me. You concentrate on the lab evidence.”
The uniformed officer at the “cage,” where the evidence was finally and completely logged, now thanked Jessica and told her everything appeared in order. She returned the thanks, tossed away her empty coffee cup and indicated to Santiva to follow her and they’d locate the morgue from here.
Eriq’s request that she focus on the lab work and leave the press to him sounded like an order, so she said no more on the subject, but it seemed that Santiva felt a need to explain himself further. He looked over at her as they continued down the institutional-gray corridor and said, “People are rightfully upset, and I’d be more worried if they weren’t. Hell, it’s a goddamn mystery, and they want some goddamn answers, and we’d better begin to provide some or we’ll be crucified along with Commissioner Everette and his guys.”
She nodded in agreement, still in jeans and shirt stained with saltwater, her hair pulled back and in a ponytail. “People need to know why this is happening, why here, why now… to them. Only problem is, so far, God alone knows the answer to that one. But you know, Eriq, I’m wondering if anything like this has happened before, if this case can be linked to any earlier bizarre outbreaks elsewhere.”