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CHAPTER SIX

E arly Wednesday morning, Wade pored over the report the forensic anthropologist sent, trying to make sense of the medical terminology. In his inbox when he checked his email at six o’clock, either the good doc was an early riser, or she’d stayed up through the night working. Something told him it was the latter. He checked the timestamp on the email. Three o’clock. Few people rose that early. The forensic anthropologist definitely pulled an all-nighter. His cell rang.

“Brunner speaking.” He strolled to the sliding glass door and watched the deer meandering along the edge of the lake. It was a peaceful sight.

“I was wondering if you’d had a chance to review the report I sent.”

“Most people wouldn’t have since it’s 6:00 a.m.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No. I did review the report. I’m surprised you’re up already since you just sent that report a few hours ago.”

“I haven’t gone to sleep yet. I had to be sure you’d received the report first.”

“Am I missing something? Was there a significant detail or time sensitive item in the report I should’ve noticed?”

“I consider every Jane Doe case time sensitive.”

“Yes. Of course,” Wade said.

“I wanted to make sure you’d seen that I’d determined probable cause of death for the victims. The tool marks on the bones are consistent with multiple stab wounds. It’s the same for all four of your Jane Does. The knife had a unique blade, so I can give you an idea of what you’re looking for in terms of a murder weapon. If you find a suspect, I should be able to match the injuries on the victims to the murder weapon.”

He crossed the room and filled his coffee cup before sitting at his kitchen table. “What was unusual about the knife?”

“It has triple blades that twist to a point.” She sighed. “It’s possible the killer fashioned his own knife if he’s skilled in metal work, but if he used a known weapon, my money is on the Microtech Jagdkommando. The knife in question would have no purpose other than doing severe damage to the human body. It was used on all four victims.”

“Thanks. That’ll help a great deal.” He set his coffee down and drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you have an age for the victims or know how long they’ve been dead?”

“My preliminary findings indicate the victims were all in their early thirties. The first Jane Doe was killed more than five years ago, probably closer to seven, and the most recent victim died about a year ago.

“Wow. Why wasn’t all this in your report?”

“I have more testing to do before I make those findings official.”

“Thanks for sharing. That information will help with our investigation.”

“Call if you have other questions, Sergeant Brunner.”

“I will.” He smiled. “I appreciate all your help, Dr. Mastriano.”

She disconnected the call without saying goodbye. He wasn’t surprised by her abrupt hang-up, but he was thrown off guard by the extent of her willingness to be helpful. He’d believed her a cold, unfeeling scientist. His first impression couldn’t have been more wrong.

Wade looked up when Jamie hovered over his desk. “Did you review the report the forensic anthropologist sent?”

“Sure did,” Wade said.

“I hope you were able to make more sense out of it than I was.”

“Dr. Mastriano made it easy for me.”

“How so?” Jamie grinned. “Did she send you a glossary of anthropology terms?”

“No. She called me to make sure I received her report and then answered my questions.”

“Seriously?”

“It surprised me, too.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “She seemed all business at first, but she clearly cares about the Jane Does. She wanted to be sure we had the information we needed to help our investigation.”

“I wonder why she called you instead of me. I’m the one who walked her out to the crime scene.”

“Dunno. Maybe because I called her in on the case?”

“Maybe.”

“Be glad she didn’t call you.” He laughed. “My cell rang at six o’clock this morning.”

Jamie scrunched her eyebrows together. “What did you find out?”

“Information about the type of knife we’re looking for, the age of the victims, and an approximation on how long ago they died. We’re waiting on DNA, so hopefully we’ll find a missing woman who’ll match. That’s what I’m doing now, poring through missing persons reports hoping to find similarities.”

“It’s possible our killer kept his victims alive for some time,” Jamie said.

“We should expand our search criteria.”

“Maybe not. Let’s start with missing persons fitting our suspected timeline. We can always search again if we don’t hit on anything.”

“True.” He pushed a few buttons on his keyboard.

“Move over.”

Wade stood and stepped out of the way, gesturing toward his computer. “Be my guest.”

Jamie made herself comfortable, and her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Here. There are two missing women from Carbon County fitting our age range and time frame.” She hit a few more keys and the printer came to life.

“How did you do that?”

“Easy. I can teach you.”

“I’d like that. But later.” He scanned the pages she printed before holding one up. “This report is interesting. Mary Van Britton. Reported missing in July of 2016.” Jamie was silent while he studied the page. “Not your typical missing person. She’s a United States District Court judge. I’m used to teenagers, drug addicts, and prostitutes going missing. But a federal judge to disappear without a trace?”

“I wonder if her case is a work-related vendetta.”

He cleared his throat. “We can’t rule that out, but we’re dealing with a serial killer. He’s been burying victims in this location for years. If she’s one of our victims, and we don’t know if she is, our killer is not risk averse. He’s willing to abduct high-profile women.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “True. Did we ever get anything on the boot prints found at the scene? I didn’t see a report come through.”

“We did. They were matched to the exclusion prints taken from one of the DCNR rangers.”

“That’s disappointing. I’d hoped they might give us a lead to follow.”

“Me too.” He sorted the reports Jamie printed by date. “Let’s start with the most recent missing persons reports in Carbon County and the surrounding areas and work backward.”

“That makes sense.” She stood. “Let’s find someone to interview.”

“I thought we could start with Stacy McGuire’s boyfriend, Lester Parsons. Do you want to ride with me?”

“Why not?” She smiled. “I’ll review her file while you drive.”

“Reading in a moving car makes me ill.”

She stared. “How did I not know you got carsick?”

“I don’t unless I read. Besides, I’m hardly ever a passenger, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

About ten minutes into their drive to Parsons’ Automotive Repair in Packer, Jamie turned in her seat to face him. “What are you going to do about your park ranger?”

His face warmed. “What do you mean?”

“You know perfectly well what I’m getting at.”

“Emily and I are ancient history.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, she thinks we are, so that’s that.”

“Did you tell her how you feel?”

“She was at O’Brian’s Mug when I stopped there for dinner. Her friend invited me to join them at their table, and I gave Emily a ride back to her car.”

“And?”

“And we talked.” He sighed. “She’s forgiven me, but anything beyond friendship is out of the question.”

“I’m sorry, Wade.” She touched his arm. “It’s obvious you care.”

“It is what it is.”

Jamie’s cell rang, and she answered. She cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. “We’ll be right there.”

Wade noticed the change in her demeanor and pulled over to the shoulder of the road, waiting for her to complete the call. Once she disconnected, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“That was Trooper Cunningham. He’s at the park. One of the rangers found another body.”

“I’m surprised the cadaver dogs missed one, but it makes sense for our killer’s timeline. If the forensic anthropologist has the dating correct, then we may be missing a body or possibly two.”

“The latest victim appears to be a recent kill.”

Wade swallowed a lump in his throat. “How fresh?”

“According to the park ranger, she wasn’t buried. Seems the killer wanted her to be found.”

“We’ll have to ask the medical examiner how long ago she died.”

“Cunningham’s best guess was that she was killed in the past day or two.” Jamie looked away.

Wade stood by the body. The victim displayed atop the massive boulders nearest the parking lot. Her hands were folded as if in prayer, her dress carefully arranged, and a diamond-studded cross nestled in the hollow of her throat. The way it scattered the sunlight seemed to mock him. The killer was taunting them.

He turned to face the DCNR ranger who’d found the body. “Pete, right?”

“That’s me.”

“Did you touch the body when you found her?”

“I may have. I’m not sure. I approached to check on her, but once I drew near, I could tell she was gone.”

“Did you see anyone suspicious in the area?”

“No. There was nobody else around.”

And still, he may have touched the body. Wade shook his head. “Did the uniformed officers get a statement from you?”

“Yes. Before you arrived.”

“All right. If we have any more questions, we’ll find you.”

The ranger stalked off, seemingly put off by his dismissal, but Wade didn’t have the time or energy to worry about hurt feelings. He had a case to solve before anyone else died.

As he strode through the parking lot toward his car, he noticed Emily standing by her vehicle observing the flurry of activity. He couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglasses and wished she’d remove them. When he ambled over to her, she obliged. “Hi,” he said.

“Austin told me Pete discovered another body this morning.”

“Unfortunately, he did. Maybe the killer made a mistake that’ll help us find him.”

“I hope so.”

“Me too.” He rolled his shoulders to get the kinks out. “This case is a nightmare.”

“I know. For me, too, and it’s not even my case. Not officially, anyway.”

“But you’re emotionally invested.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.” She sighed.

He draped his arm over her shoulder and gave her a side hug. It wasn’t his place to offer comfort, but his heart couldn’t seem to grasp hold of that fact. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Eventually.” She gave him a weak smile before climbing back into her Ford Interceptor.

As she left, regret settled in and made itself at home in the pit of his stomach. If he’d stayed in Havertown, would she be his wife instead of another man’s girlfriend? There was no telling, but he wished things were different.

Ruger awakened Wade in his usual way by placing both paws down on his chest. He scratched the canine behind his ears and rose to face another day.

In time, he took the dog out for his run. About halfway around the lake, his cell rang, so he slowed to a walk and answered.

“Please tell me you have good news?” he asked when Molly’s scratchy voice greeted him. The crime-scene technician rarely contacted him directly, so he expected something big.

“You’ll be happy to hear we’ve identified two more victims. One required DNA analysis. Her name is Amanda Curtis. She was reported missing in?—”

“July 2018. I’ve been studying missing persons files.”

“What do you need me for?”

“You know I couldn’t get by without you, Molly. Who is the other victim you’ve identified?”

“Victim’s name is Lorraine Moore. We were able to identify her by running her prints through IAFIS.” She coughed. “There’s something peculiar about this one.”

“What’s that?”

“She hasn’t been reported missing.”

“That’s odd.”

“She’s not in the missing persons database. You’ll need to notify next of kin.”

“I’m finishing up my run with Ruger. I’ll call once I’m inside, so I can write down the details.”

“No need. I’ll email you the information. Call if you have questions.”

“Sounds good.”

Jamie was at her desk when Wade arrived at the office an hour later. “Did I miss anything?”

“The report from Molly was emailed to both of us, but I’m wondering about something.” She waved a printed copy at him before setting it back down on her desk.

“What’s that?”

“It says here they found her through fingerprints. Why do you think Lorraine Moore had her fingerprints on file?”

“No criminal record?”

“None.”

“Sometimes fingerprints are taken from individuals who take inpatient jobs working with minors.”

“Maybe that’s it.” She shrugged. “It’s another lead we can follow if it becomes necessary. I’ll make a note of it. It’ll be easy enough to get her work history. We can ask when we make the notification to her next of kin.”

“No local cops in her jurisdiction?” Wade picked up the printed email.

“Nope. She lived in Penn Forest Township.”

“It looks like there was a Mr. Moore. Let’s pay him a visit.”

Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at Lorraine Moore’s address of record on Fox Lane. The front door opened as they approached the charming cottage-style Tudor surrounded by wooded acres.

“Can I help you?” a young man asked.

“I hope so. We’re looking for a Mr. Rodney Moore.”

“Junior or the third.”

“Let me check.” He glanced down at his paperwork. “Junior.”

“I’m sorry, but my father passed on a year ago.”

Jamie stepped in front of Wade. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mr. Moore. I’m Sergeant Strauss and this is Sergeant Brunner.” She took a step to the side. “May we come in? There’s something we need to talk to you about.”

The young man crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s this about?”

“We’d prefer to talk about it inside.”

Rodney Moore opened the front door wide and gestured for them to enter. He led the way to a living room with an enormous stone fireplace. Jamie took a seat on the blue plaid couch and Wade sat on the edge of the matching oversized chair. Once Rodney sat beside Jamie, she sighed. “Rodney, when was the last time you spoke with your mother?”

“You mean my stepmother?”

“Is Lorraine Moore your stepmother?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you heard from her?” Jamie asked.

“Before she left on vacation. She was supposed to call before she boarded her cruise, but she didn’t bother.”

“When did Mrs. Moore start her vacation?”

“Her flight was Friday night, July 9th. Her cruise left the next morning from Miami.” He sat up straighter. “Why?”

“How long was the cruise?”

“Ten days. She should dock today.”

“Your stepmother didn’t get on the cruise,” Wade said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry to inform you her body was found in Hickory Run State Park on Saturday,” Jamie said.

His face turned red. “Why didn’t you notify me then?”

“There was no identification with her body, so she needed to be identified by other means.”

Wade waited a minute for the young man to compose himself. “Why didn’t you try to contact your step-mother when she didn’t check call as expected?”

“I figured she forgot to call. It wasn’t a huge concern at the time.”

Wade frowned. “Do you know if she worked in another field before becoming a farrier?”

“Uh. Yeah. She’s a licensed psychiatrist. She doesn’t practice anymore.”

“Do you know where she worked as a psychiatrist?”

“I don’t recall the name of the place. It was some private facility for mentally challenged youth.” He pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “She claimed the work was rewarding, but she needed a break. I never understood that. If it’s rewarding, why would you need a break?”

Jamie’s eyes twinkled. “I understand the sentiment perfectly.” She took a small notebook from her pocket. “Do you remember what Mrs. Moore was wearing when she left for her cruise?”

“I think she had on jeans and a t-shirt. She wasn’t much for dressing fancy.”

“Was she wearing any jewelry?”

His face clouded. “Probably her wedding and engagement rings, but I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Was there any other jewelry she wore regularly?”

“She has a Fitbit.”

“Good. Thank you. That may prove helpful.”

“Oh, and she always wears her charm bracelet. It has a charm of a horseshoe and another one of a horse. I can’t remember what else is on there.”

Jamie cocked her head. “Was the bracelet important to her?”

“My dad gave it to her on their first anniversary. She loves it. I mean loved it.” His voice broke on the last word.

“We appreciate your help. If you think of anything else, give us a call.” Wade gave him a business card. “You’re over eighteen, right?”

“Nineteen.”

“Once you decide which funeral home you’ll use, give this card to the mortician, he can contact us to make arrangements to have your stepmother’s body transported from the medical examiner.”

On the drive back to the station, Jamie heaved out a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Wade asked.

“How is a boy that age supposed to handle planning a funeral?”

“The same way boys that age go to war. He’s not that young.” Wade glanced in her direction. “You do realize he’s a suspect, right? He didn’t report his step-mother missing, and we have to consider it suspicious even if we are able to confirm she had a trip planned. She never called to say she arrived in Florida, and he didn’t try to contact her.”

“It is strange.”

“Yeah. What’s even more odd is that anyone would be crazy enough to cruise out of Miami in July.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Jamie laughed.

“Maybe he can ask his biological mother for help planning the memorial service,” Wade said.

“We don’t even know if his biological mother is alive.”

“We need to focus. None of this has any bearing on our case.”

“I know. It bothers me though.” She turned off her air-conditioning vent. “It’s always cold in your car.”

“That’s how I like it.”

“It’s why I should drive.”

“Not going to happen. I have seniority.”

“By what, a month?”

“Almost a year.”

She harrumphed, and he gave her a smug grin.

The following morning, Wade called around to stores and vendors that carried the Microtech Jagdkommando. Though somewhat rare, none of the places he called kept records of who purchased the knife. It was a dead end. Plus, the killer could’ve purchased the weapon online.

Jamie trudged into the station looking pleased. “We have something.”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “What’s that?”

“A dental match.”

“Who is she?”

“Stacy McGuire. Reported missing one year ago.”

“That name is familiar.” He mindlessly cracked his knuckles. “Remind me why we didn’t talk to her family?”

“It was on our agenda. Remember, we were on our way to talk to her boyfriend, Lester Parsons, when we received the call about Lorraine Moore’s body being found.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten.”

“It seemed like a cut-and-dry case when she went missing. According to her missing persons file, everyone believes her boyfriend killed her and dumped her body in Harvey’s Lake.”

“That’s eerily specific,” Wade said.

“He was seen with a large cooler on the lake around the time she disappeared. Authorities searched the lake but didn’t find anything. That’s not surprising though. Parts of Harvey’s Lake are 100 feet deep.”

“I didn’t know that.”

She nodded. “I had another case where we had a dive team scour it. It was a fruitless search.”

“Who does this ‘everyone’ consist of that thinks the boyfriend is guilty?”

“Parents. Ex-husband. Best friend.”

“We should talk to the boyfriend and the ex-husband,” he said.

“Do you want to watch the interviews from the detectives on her case?”

“No. I don’t want my opinion swayed. I’ll watch them after we interview them both ourselves.”

“Let’s go see if we can get them to talk willingly. Should we start with the boyfriend?” she asked.

Wade nodded.

“Maybe I should drive this time.”

“Not a chance.”

She narrowed her eyes.

He grinned.

“Glad you find yourself amusing, Brunner.” She tucked into the passenger seat and shut her door. When he climbed in behind the wheel, she fastened her seatbelt and twisted around to face him. “I ran into your park ranger friend on Saturday.”

“You did? Where?”

“We passed her on the trail while we were out hiking. My fiancé made me go camping over the weekend.”

“At Hickory Run?”

“No. We went to Promised Land.”

“It’s pretty out there.”

“It is.” She toyed with the strap on her purse. “Emily was with her friend Samantha.”

He smiled. “Sam seems great. I’m glad Emily has such a close friend.”

“Why don’t you call her?”

“Call Sam?”

“Emily.”

“She doesn’t want to hear from me.”

“Are you certain?”

“Unfortunately, I am.”

She sighed. “In that case, I’ll leave it alone.”

He stared at the road in front of him and nearly missed the turnoff leading to Parsons’ Automotive Repair.

Once they parked, he and Jamie made their way to the shop where a man Wade assumed was Lester lay on a creeper under a car. Not wanting to startle him, they waited patiently for him to come out.

About five minutes later he rolled out from under the car and tugged his earbuds out. “Sorry. I was listening to a podcast. I didn’t realize anyone was here.” Lester’s gaze ping-ponged between his workbench and the door. “I thought I’d finished with today’s appointments.”

“We don’t have an appointment.”

He grabbed a towel and wiped the grease off his hands. “What can I help you with?”

“We’re here about your missing girlfriend,” Wade said.

“I already told the detectives everything.” Lester looked around the room like he was searching for a means of escape. The man was guilty of something. Wade couldn’t say for sure Lester Parsons was a serial killer, but instinct told him not to trust anything the man said.

Two days later, Wade was watching interviews from Stacy McGuire’s missing persons investigation when Jamie waltzed into the office and handed him a cup of Wawa coffee.

He pushed the mug of nasty brew sitting on his desk away and took a long sip. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in the job description.”

She gestured to his screen. “Weren’t you going to wait to view those?”

“Her ex-husband wasn’t cooperative when I tried to schedule a time to interview him, so I figured I should check these out before I press the matter.”

She frowned. “He must have something to hide.”

“Or he’s sick of being railroaded,” Wade said.

“Could be.”

He reached for a report sitting in the bin on the corner of his desk. “According to this entomologist report, the insect activity on Lorraine Moore shows she’d been dead for less than twenty-four hours. It agrees with what the coroner had to say. If she was abducted the day she left for her flight, then he held her for a week before killing her."

“That’s disturbing. I don’t want to think about what she suffered in the week he held her captive.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “DNA report.”

He read the name on it. Judge Van Britton.

Jamie sank into the chair beside his desk. “Not unexpected.”

He stood and stretched. Another road trip to notify next of kin was in order. It was a part of the job he’d never grown accustomed to, but it was becoming a far more frequent task on this case. “There are no local police in Lausanne Township, so we’ll be making the notification.”

“We’d want to be on scene, anyway, wouldn’t we?” Jamie asked.

“I suppose. It’s helpful to see the reactions of family. They can be telling.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “And when at their most vulnerable, people reveal details they might not otherwise share.”

“Exactly.” Jamie stood. “I’m driving.”

“In your dreams.” He stalked past her and headed for his government-issued Crown Vic.

They pulled down the long driveway of an estate that looked like it belonged on Philadelphia’s Main Line rather than in the rural mountain area. Wade parked and took a deep breath. “You ready for this?”

Jamie nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She opened the passenger door and let herself out.

Wade admired the landscaping. Someone had spent a fortune on the outdoor living space. He caught up with Jamie before she reached the massive front door.

She rang the bell, and a man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties answered. “Can I help you?”

“Are you a relation of Judge Van Britton’s?” Jamie asked.

“What’s this about?” He widened his stance.

“Please answer the question.” Wade took a step forward.

“I’m her brother.”

“We’re from the Pennsylvania State Police. I’m Sergeant Brunner, and this is Sergeant Strauss. Do you mind if we come inside?”

The man stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. “I apologize for my rudeness. From time to time the press come sniffing around wanting to do a story on my sister and hoping to dig up dirt on our family. I thought you were reporters. Do you have news?”

Wade ignored the question until they were all seated in the formal living area. “I’m sorry to inform you?—”

The man’s face paled. “You found her?”

“We did.”

“And she’s…”

“Her remains were discovered on July 8th. DNA results came in this morning confirming a match,” Wade said.

The judge’s brother crumpled before them, clearly distraught by the news. “Deep down I knew, but I held out a glimmer of hope she was alive somewhere. I know it’s naive, but hope was all I had.”

“We’re sorry for your loss.” Jamie’s empty words echoed off the walls in the cavernous room.

Wade stood inside the doors of the courthouse waiting for his turn to step up to the metal detector at the security checkpoint. He hoped to learn more about the judge by talking to her friends and co-workers.

Once inside, he made his way to the chambers formerly belonging to Judge Van Britton. He figured someone there should be able to direct him to her former staff members so he could begin interviewing them.

He asked the receptionist, but she’d only been there a couple of months, so she called for a paralegal, who in turn went to find a law clerk. And so it went for the first thirty-five minutes of his visit until he finally sat down with Judge Dunn, who occupied the chambers directly next to Judge Van Britton’s.

When they settled into their seats at the cafeteria with coffee in hand, he leaned back and studied the judge. “What did you think of Judge Van Britton?”

“She was competent.”

“I meant personally.”

“I didn’t think of her.”

“You had to have an opinion outside of your professional one.” Wade sighed. “Did she strike you as uptight or easygoing? Was she distant or friendly?”

“I don’t want to say anything to disparage her.”

“This is a police interview, not a eulogy. Honesty is far more helpful than kindness.”

The judge cleared his throat and took another long drink of his coffee. “In that case, uptight is a good word choice. Judge Van Britton didn’t make small talk or take the time to get to know any of the people on her staff. She rarely smiled and kept to herself. I can’t think of a single person who knew her well enough to converse with her. Most people did little more than nod in her direction when passing in the corridor.”

“Did she have anyone she would go to lunch with?” Wade asked.

“No. She rarely left the building for lunch. She took it in her chambers and asked someone to order for her. Often, she’d ask one of the administrative assistants, but occasionally she’d send a paralegal or a law clerk to pick it up.”

“Do you know where she ordered from?”

“From what I’ve heard, the salad place down the street nine times out of ten.”

“All right. Thanks.”

After interviewing three or four more people at the courthouse and receiving similar responses, Wade resigned himself to the fact that he was unlikely to learn anything helpful at Mary Van Britton’s place of employment, so he headed back to the station. Maybe if he went through her file again, he’d find another thread on which to focus his energies. Something was eluding him; a piece of the puzzle just out of reach.