Page 23 of Pretty Broken Dolls

Out of her peripheral vision, Katie saw Agent Campbell and his assistant agent move in closer to hear the conversation, but staying respectfully distanced. They leaned in to each other, obviously whispering. She ignored them and focused on what the deputy was saying. She had again that strange, prickly feeling of being part of a movie set, or a play.

The tall bright lights.

The focus on her, center stage.

The posing of the body.

Katie’s mind raced and her heart was heavy as she thought about the victim.

Is that what the killer wanted?

To be the center of attention? The killer more than the victim?

“What did you do next?” Katie kept her tone professional but she was intrigued by the chain of events.

“I stopped in front of the Ferris wheel and stepped out of my cruiser. That’s when I saw the vic and radioed immediately and requested backup. I didn’t stop the ride because I didn’t want to touch anything. I got back into the car to wait for backup to arrive to search the fairgrounds in case the perp was still here.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No, ma’am. We finally turned off the ride and waited for you to arrive.”

“Thank you, Deputy.” Katie turned to address the group. “Okay, listen up!” she announced with all the calmness she could muster. “I want the entire fairgrounds searched. If a building or concession stand is locked, get the keys. I want search groups in teams of two. That means every building, every ride, and every stall in the livestock area. Be mindful that anything could be evidence, so don’t attempt to retrieve or move it.”

“What exactly are you looking for?” asked a deputy.

“Anything that might be related to the killer or victim.Anything.Something that is out of place or possibly planted, or dropped by the killer. But, specifically, there should be a piece of jewelry with a ribbon hanging somewhere, and some kind of knife. Please stay alert.” She turned to Deputy Pendleton. “Can you organize the teams and report back?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smiled.

“Thank you.”

The deputy hurried to the group of officers to coordinate.

McGaven leaned close to Katie. “You just made his day.”

“What? Really?”

“You bet! If I was still on patrol and was asked to do that from a detective you might see a skip or two in my stride.”

Katie smiled. “That I’d pay to see.”

She turned back to the ride, taking a cleansing breath. Carefully moving around the compartments, she opened the ride car door so she could get closer to the body. Blood poured out like a light waterfall and spattered against the ground. Katie jumped back as quickly as she could but her boots and jeans took the brunt of it.

“You okay?” said McGaven.

“Yeah,” she said sourly. “We now know that she was killed here and not somewhere else—because she bled out here.”

With a feeble attempt, Katie tried to brush the blood away. It was no use. Her heart hammered and felt as if it would break. Remembering to breathe slowly, she tried to maintain her professional demeanor, but she couldn’t shake the familiar feelings. She would have to continue the investigation saturated with the victim’s blood until it dried or until she could make it home. Her immediate thought was that everyone was watching and assessing how she handled herself, so she forged on without hesitation. Her hands trembled slightly and she felt light-headed as she pushed away images of blown-up and bleeding soldiers from the battlefield. For some of them, she had been the last person they spoke to before death.

I can do this…

Katie carefully peered inside the car, not touching anything unnecessarily. The victim was wearing dark shorts and a sleeveless, light-colored top, which seemed odd, considering the temperature. It was too cold to wear such light clothing.

Was the victim dressed by the killer?

Before or after death? Planned or not?

Were the clothing pieces specific to what the killer wanted to convey? Summer? What was to come?