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I snort. Now they think I’m a threat? I look back, glaring through the glass, and raise my voice so everyone can hear me. This part isn’t about Jo and Vinny. “Did you get the answers you wanted?”
Wallsburg roughly grasps my arms one at a time to cuff me, forcing my face against the glass as he twists my hands against the small of my back. He’s enjoying having a reason to push me around.
There’s Fake Porscha, smug as ever, and the apparition has the audacity to wave at me as she sits on this side of the glass, watching me slowly unravel.
A hand grips the back of my head, but I can’t see anything on the other side of the glass anymore. It doesn’t stop me from speaking though, my thoughts spiraling as I’m dragged away. “Don’t worry, Joelle! Like you said, no matter where you go, I’ll always be a part of you.”
Chapter 8
Correction officers escort Alastair back to his cell, dragging him away in cuffs with a man holding either arm. I waited as Jo and Vinny took off, the guards for CGP almost unable to wrangle them cordially down the hall and back out the main doors. Following behind them was easy enough, and in all the ruckus I had a moment to look around the main floor without someone else looking at me. FBI agents draw attention, especially when most of the police force in town don’t want us here.
I let my gaze survey the room, landing on one of many framed photos I’ve glanced at but not stared at. The images all show the wardens for the penitentiary, and I’m unsurprised to see that the place hasn’t seen a lot of new blood in recent years.
The last photograph added to the wall has a date of service, indicating when the Warden oversaw the institution. The most recent one is dated 2008, and there’s no end date so he’s still in charge.
Julius Bradshaw.Can’t say I’m personally a fan of him. I only saw Julius once and it was a rushed ordeal. We barely spoke, and he mainly ushered us through to give approval to visit with Alastair about the killings. We haven’t spoken since.
I want a damn response from Alastair to get the answers we need and be done with it. Gabe is supposed to be questioning people in town, and we’re going to have to split up to find a real lead. The town of Citrus Grove is small, so it shouldn’t be as hard as it has been to find one killer.
My phone buzzes as I cross into my house, and it’s my dad again. I mentally can’t put up with him right now, so instead I put the call on silent and lock the door behind me. Papers are strewn out on the kitchen island that we’re using as an extension of the office, and I head in there where the majority of the boxes are stored.
Dragging out the file from a box, thefirstfile, I leaf through the pages. All of Alastair’s victims are arranged in the various boxes by date of death, not necessarily when they were found since some of them are out of order. Some information and photos are tacked up on the wall around the room so we can revisit victimology, but a lot of it is still in boxes like the original case report.
I glance at the name.Natasha Odell.The first true victim of the CGS, she was a college kid who stayed in town during break. She died in her house and was disposed of outside like the other bodies. No one missed her until over a week later, and no one connected her death to the Citrus Grove Slayer until months later when he was already classified as a serial. The evidence in her house wasn’t preserved and documented like it should’ve been but the judge ruled it enough to charge Alastair with her death as well.
There’s a list of items picked up from her apartment following her death, and I glance through it. Mostly it’s what I’d expect from a college girl; textbooks, a key ring, one loose key, a bunch of notes, some energy drinks collected for DNA…
Titling my head, I read over the list again.A key.
Turning to the next page, I eye the crime scene photos. Citrus Grove PD dealt with the cleanup because it was labeled a break in. The lock on her door was jimmied, like the key didn’t fit quite right. There were items strewn about and broken inside the residence but nothing was deemed missing. She fit the physical profiles of the other victims, and Dad added her murder into the file and removed her from a run-of-the-mill break-in gone wrong. Now she’s officially Victim 1.
Blinking, I stare at the picture of the little golden key and imagine the one I saw at Swan’s apartment that I labeled as nothing. There’s a million keys out there, it’s just curious that there’s a single key at two completely different crime scenes years apart that look identical.
I go back to the notes.The lock was jimmied…
Jimmied, not broken. Maybe Alastair had duplicate keys -
I stop right there, sitting back. Alastair never mentioned anything about keys or locks. That’s not a skill of his, or it wasn’t when he was arrested.
But why would almost the exact same key appear in two case files when the killer is two completely different people?
Frowning, I get up and dig for the whiteboard we’ve buried against the wall. Pushing boxes out of the way, I see Tyler’s neat script covering a large portion of one side. I swipe one half of it clean of old notes and start a section of my own.
Undetermined details (possibly unrelated)
Key found in Swan’s apartment (2024) looks to match key in photographs from Odell’s apartment (2009). Send images to Soto to compare new images with the information stored in VICAP.
The frown is still in place as I cap my marker. It’s such a minor thing, probably a coincidence, but ignoring minute details is what causes cases to go unsolved. The little things make up the big picture, and if nothing comes of the search on the keys we can trash the idea and move on with the rest of the case.
Odell’s case file is still open on the table, and I return to the folder to flip back to images of the body post-mortem. Whitmore, the former coroner, seemingly always did a good job documenting things; hopefully the new guy is just as thorough with the details. I met the new coroner briefly. Gabe’s spent more time with the guy than I have. He seems to like the work, and appears to have a better relationship with the dead than the living. He was incredibly focused on the bodies and preserving evidence when we met, and barely had time to introduce himself to the team before he was locked in on the details of the case.
Refocusing my attention to the task at hand, I lift up a photo. There are vertical lines along Odell’s body, cut haphazardly instead of with some practiced skill like later victims. The coroner deemed she was alive during the cutting, which led to questions about why no one heard her cry out. My gaze drops to some of the notes from her autopsy report:
Victim presents with vertical shallow-to-deep cuts down the body at uneven intervals. Cuts range from two to fourteen inches in length and vary in depth. Attacker appears to have no medical skills. No internal organs removed, several arteries nicked by a knife but not deemed COD. Blade appears sharp and likely new, not serrated. Wounds inflicted pre-mortem. Victim appears to have not struggled despite the pain, blood analysis to be run. Physical signs of drug use on the victim pre-mortem, running a drug screen. COD is massive blood loss and asphyxiation.
In true CGPD fashion, the blood samples were lost and the family fought to lay Ms. Odell to rest without running another test. Even when the case was deemed a murder, they didn’t want her body exhumed for any further testing. Had the case been classified a proper murder and the workup done from the start, the killer might not have gotten away with as many bodies as he did. Hell, if the tox screen was done and returned to the coroner, we might’ve known about the drugs being used prior to any more deaths.
Alastair used street drugs, probably because it was the easiest thing to get in high school, especially if the quality of the drug didn’t really matter to him. heroin is disabling in high doses and turned up in each tox screen following Odell.