Chapter 3
     
     
     
McKenna had a hard time finding the crime scene. He cruised slowly around Fort Tryon Park without seeing any signs of police activity until he got lucky. A radio car from the 34th Precinct passed him and he followed. McKenna saw the driver, a female cop, eye him in her rearview mirror and then her partner turned around to get a quick look. They turned off the road, across the meadow, and into the woods on the narrow dirt trail for fifty yards before stopping. The road was blocked by a Crime Scene Unit van. There were many cars in front of the van including radio cars, unmarked cars, and a morgue wagon. The uniformed cops got out of their car and waited.
     McKenna guessed that both were in their early thirties and had been on the Job a while. The row of medals above their shields told him they hadn't spent their time idly. Sharp cops, was his first impression. He was the serious one in the team. Dark and handsome, he reminded McKenna of Valentino. Opposites sometimes do attract, and they did in this case. She was all smiles, and she exuded personality.
     "Are you gonna be working on this case, Detective McKenna?" Rynn asked.
     McKenna didn't know them, but wasn't surprised at being recognized. "Yes, I am."
     "Then you're probably gonna want to talk to us. We discovered the bodies."
     What a piece of luck for me! McKenna thought. I'm not gonna be going in dopey when I see Tommy. "I guess you've already talked to Tommy McKenna, haven't you?"
     "Yeah, talked to him for quite a while."
     "Okay, now talk to me."
     While Rynn told him how they had found the bodies, McKenna noticed the cops had two cardboard trays of coffee containers on their backseat. Eighteen coffees told him a lot. He was headed into a crowded crime scene that was going to be in place for a while. Traditionally, the detective boss in charge at the scene of a long, drawn-out affair bought the coffee all around, and those folks usually didn't spring unless it was absolutely necessary.
     "Who's there now?" McKenna asked.
     "Our captain, our sergeant, and another team from the Three-four. There's a lieutenant from the Homicide Squad who came with Tommy, but I don't know his name," Rynn said, looking to her partner for help.
     "Lieutenant Greve," Cocchi piped in.
     "Yeah, Lieutenant Greve," Rynn continued, counting off the cops on her fingers as she listed them. "Then there's four from the Crime Scene Unit, but the only one of them I know is Joe Walsh. A crew from Emergency Service, but I don't know if they're still there. They went down the cliff and brought Cindy Barrone's body up." Rynn turned to Cocchi. "Who am I leaving out?"
     "Dr. Andino," Cocchi said.
     A real high-powered crime scene, McKenna thought. The precinct CO being here is unusual. They usually deal in statistics, not specifics. And the chief medical examiner himself? A man in John Andino's position doesn't usually make house calls. John Andino, Tommy McKenna, and Joe Walsh on the case means that Cindy Barrone's murder is already being handled by the best the city of New York had to offer. "How many reporters are there?" he asked.
     "Two," Rynn answered.
     That didn't make sense to McKenna with a victim like Cindy Barrone. This crime scene called for a gaggle of reporters, both print and TV. "Just two?"
     Rynn and Cocchi exchanged a smile. "When we saw that NYC-9 license plate, we knew these were hot murders and a big splash," Rynn explained. "We figured that maybe whoever caught it would like some time to get a story together before the press caught on and started up the pressure, so we didn't put anything over the radio."
     "Nothing?" McKenna asked, impressed with Rynn and Cocchi's logic and actions. They knew that the sharper reporters monitored the police radios, but nothing?
     "Not a peep, used landlines for everything," Cocchi said. "Kathy stayed here to guard the crime scene and I went to the station house. Ran the plate from there on the computer and found out who the car was registered to. Then I went in to see the captain with the news. Got a big `attaboy' and the captain got on the horn to everybody else. Nothing on the air."
     "Captain's a sharp guy, too," McKenna said.
     "A sharp lady and a square shooter," Rynn corrected, but both she and Cocchi were obviously pleased with the implied compliment. "We were set for some misery with these murders, but she saved us some problems."
     "This isn't your sector?" McKenna guessed.
     "Unfortunately, no, and our sergeant has been in this precinct since before we were born. A real old-timer with old-time ways."
     It had been years since McKenna had worked for one of those types, but he remembered. Run afoul of them by breaking one of the sacred old rules, and each eight-hour tour seemed to last forever. But if the captain thought they had done a good job, then that was it. Case closed.
     McKenna searched his mind for more questions, something to give him more of an edge over Tommy. He came up with a few. "Do you know if your spot has been used as a lovers lane before?"
     "Sometimes, but they're always gone by the time we get here in the morning," Rynn said. "We find empty beer cans, wine bottles, pizza boxes, things like that."
     "We like to keep our spot tidy, so we always clean up after the slobs," Cocchi added. "It's pristine, and Tommy really liked that."
     Another piece of luck for Tommy and me, McKenna thought. Anything found there was probably left by the killer. Now for the small question that could tell me quite a bit. "Are two of those coffees for the reporters?"
     "Yeah," Rynn answered. "I think they're pals of Tommy's and he told us to count them in."
     So it was Tommy who called them, McKenna thought. Called two old, trustworthy pals to watch him work his wonders. "Thanks for the briefing."
     The two cops nodded an acknowledement, then grabbed the trays from the backseat. McKenna followed them up the trail to the crime scene tape stretched across it. John Harney of the Daily News and Phil Messing of the Post were there, chatting and looking bored. They were both in their forties, but the stress of their jobs hadn't gotten to them. Each had a full head of wavy black hair with no gray, and they looked as if they didn't have a care in the world.
     McKenna knew both and counted them as friends, two good men who had been around long enough to know that breaking a confidence meant burning a source forever. There was no need to assign a cop to the crime scene tape to keep them at bay. They would wait for their statement and permission to get close enough to take pictures.
     Harney and Messing's casual and unexcited demeanor told McKenna that Tommy hadn't given them the victims' names. It looked like they still considered the crime a routine double murder, no big thing.
     That all changed when they saw McKenna. McKenna on the scene meant they had missed something. It wasn't routine; something extraordinary had happened and they were in the right spot at the right time. "You gonna talk to us, Brian?" Harney asked.
     "Don't know much yet, but we can chat for a moment."
     Harney and Messing each grabbed a coffee container from Rynn's tray and the cops ducked under the tape to deliver the rest.
     "You gonna be working this case?" Harney asked.
     "Yep. Just got assigned to it by the PC."
     "You been transferred to Homicide?"
     "Nope. I'm still in Major Case."
     "So this is a major case?" asked Messing.
     "Yes, turns out that it is."
     "Why's that? Something special about the victims?" Messing guessed.
     "You got it, Phil. It's the victims."
     "Who are they?"
     "As I understand it, we've only got one of them identified so far, the woman. I'll leave it to Tommy to tell you who she is."
     "Is he still on the case?" Harney asked.
     "Yes."
     "So who's case is it then? Yours or Tommy's?"
     "It's been assigned to me, but Tommy's gonna still be on it with me."
     "Let me make sure I've got this straight," Messing said. "Tommy's not in charge of the case. For some reason it's been given to you by Brunette, but Tommy's still going to be working it."
     "That's right."
     "So he'll be working for you?" Harney asked, choosing his words carefully. "Tommy McKenna will be working for Brian McKenna?"
     "In a manner of speaking, but that's not the way I'll be looking at it. I regard it as a learning experience for me and I feel lucky to be able to work with him, no matter how it looks to you right now."
     "These murders are going to be a big story, aren't they?" Harney asked.
     "Yeah, John. It's gonna be a big one, so you and all your pals are gonna be putting a lot of heat on me before it's over. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna get to work."
     McKenna left them. As he ducked under the tape, he looked back and saw that both men were on their cell phones calling their editors to suggest that real photographers be sent over in a hurry. The circus was warming up and about to begin.
     Cindy Barrone's BMW was still at the end of the dirt road. Two Crime Scene Unit detectives were photographing the scene and another was scanning the ground around the car with a metal detector. Tommy was in the coffee clutch gathered around Cindy's body at the edge of the hill, about a hundred feet away. Detective First Grade Joe Walsh was busy dusting the passenger door handle of the BMW while the uniformed cops watched and sipped their coffees. Walsh kept up a running commentary as he worked, explaining his craft to all who cared to listen. The cops looked bored, which told McKenna they had been standing there too long.
     McKenna had expected Walsh to be there for the big case because Walsh kept his ear to the ground and somehow always knew which cases were likely to put his name in print. Universally recognized as the Crime Scene Unit's leading expert on processing evidence and the NYPD's leading ham and glory hound, Walsh was a big, gregarious man in his late fifties.
     McKenna didn't feel like talking to Walsh at the moment, so he just glanced into the car at the body still lying there. Unfortunately, Walsh saw him and stood up. "What are you doing here, Brian?" he asked. "Come to get your picture in the papers?"
     "No, Joe. Unlike yourself, I'm here because I was sent here."
     "The PC?"
     "Yeah. He assigned this one to me."
     "He assigned Tommy's case to you?" Walsh asked, incredulous. "Why would he do that?"
     "Politics."
     Walsh understood and he shook his head to indicate his disapproval. "Dopey meddling bastards."
     "Yeah, it's a dopey move, but it's not Ray's fault."
     "The mayor?"
     "I guess so."
     "Wanna hear what I've got so far?"
     "Not now, Joe. I'll talk to you later," McKenna said.
     "Just as well because I don't have much. This might be the cleanest crime scene I've ever seen. Guy was real careful."
     That piece of news was a disappointment for McKenna, but he believed it. If Walsh couldn't find it, then it wasn't there. He walked toward the crowd gathered around the body, but the view was so beautiful that he had to stop for a moment to admire it. It was a great spot for a lovers lane, secluded with an expansive view of the Hudson, the Palisades on the Jersey side, and the George Washington Bridge. Unfortunately for Cindy Barrone and her late pal, those same characteristics made it a perfect spot for murder. Then he noticed that Tommy was staring at him, but he had a friendly smile on his face. By the time McKenna walked over and joined the group, everyone was staring at him and he felt self-conscious.
     Tommy McKenna was the epitome of a detective. Always well dressed, he radiated authority and confidence. He had a reputation as a kind man, a great socializer, and was so well liked and respected that he had long ago been elected as the Manhattan trustee of the Detectives Endowment Association, the detectives' union. It was a position he would hold as long as it suited him.
     McKenna had known Tommy for twenty years, and the man hadn't changed much. Tommy looked fifty-something then and he still did.
     The first thing Tommy did was hand McKenna a container of coffee. Then McKenna shook hands all around, trying not to look yet at the covered body lying at their feet. Although he had spent years in the Manhattan South Homicide Squad and had seen more than his share of murder victims, McKenna knew it would take him a while before he could again regard death as objectively as did Tommy and the rest of his Manhattan North crew. He felt uncomfortable making small talk with the victim on the ground in front of him, but the amenities had to be observed.
     John Andino was an old friend and he greeted McKenna warmly. He was a friendly, unassuming, outgoing character in his late forties, usually so cheerful that it was hard to imagine him cutting up bodies for a living.
     Lieutenant Greve was the opposite, a serious man in his fifties with a detached air and slicked-back graying blond hair. He wasn't tall, but his square jaw and weightlifter's build made him look like a tough guy. "Are you going to be officially working for me?" Greve asked as he shook McKenna's hand.
     "I guess so, Lieutenant, but it hasn't officially been worked out yet."
     Captain Uhlfelder was the surprise. She was an attractive woman in her thirties. McKenna would have thought her too young to be a captain, but there she was with the double gold bars and a row of medals besides. "My, my! First one famous Detective McKenna, then Dr. Andino himself, and now the other famous Detective McKenna? We're getting quite a few distinguished visitors around here today, aren't we?" she said with a smile as she shook McKenna's hand.
     McKenna felt that a reply was called for. "Just going where I'm sent, Captain. I thought it was pretty sharp, the way you kept this whole thing under wraps."
     "I'm not the sharp one," she said. "One of my cops suggested it and it sounded like a good idea to me. Just another case of good cops making the captain look good."
     Why is Ray hiding this lady up here? McKenna wondered, very much taken with Uhlfelder's appearance, modesty, intelligence, and sense of fair play. He should be showing her off in midtown, commanding a precinct under the bright lights.
     After Tommy finished introducing McKenna to the few detectives there he didn't know, it was time to look down and see what had been done to Cindy Barrone. McKenna reached down and grabbed a corner of the blanket.
     "Let's have our coffee and talk first," Tommy suggested.
     That was fine with McKenna. They left the group and walked a little further into the woods. For a few minutes, not another word was said. Both men drank from their containers as they surveyed the crime scene.
     Tommy finished his first. "I just want you to know that I've got no hard feelings over this. I know it wasn't your idea, and I don't blame Ray either. That prick Barrone put him in check," he said.
     "I still feel bad about it," McKenna said.
     "Don't. You never were the grandstanding, piggy type, so we'll probably make a good team. Matter of fact, we're gonna have to be if we're gonna solve this one."
     "Mind telling me one thing before we get into these murders?"
     "Let me guess," Tommy said. "What's the real reason Barrone doesn't want me in charge of this one?"
     "Exactly."
     "What did Ray tell you?"
     "That Barrone's worried about this case winding up in a book of yours someday. Even in the middle of this, Barrone's still thinking like a politician. I'm sure he's going to want this case forgotten as soon as it's over."
     "Then that's a pretty good lie he fed the mayor," Tommy said, shaking his head. "The truth is that his daughter's murder means he'll always be reelected, if he plays it right. He can count on the sympathy vote and that's a big thing."
     "Then why?"
     "He doesn't want me working this because he hates me, and the feeling is mutual. Years ago, he welshed on a deal with me and I dragged his name through the mud for anyone who'd care to listen."
     "Union business?"
     "Brian, it pains me to think that you're one of the many who don't pay attention to what we're trying to do on your behalf," Tommy said, smiling.
     "Sorry, I'm one of those people," McKenna admitted.
     "Don't worry about it. Most of the time this union crap bores me to tears. Anyway, about fifteen years ago Barrone was the city councilman from my home district and he was running for reelection in a tough race. This was before we had tenure, but it was our main concern. You remember what it was like back then, don't you?"
     McKenna did. The issue had finally been resolved, but in the old days even a first grade detective making lieutenant's money still served as a detective "at the pleasure of the police commissioner," or at the pleasure of any politician who could get to the PC. Many who had been detectives for years found themselves demoted and back in uniform after making errors on a case, disagreeing with the boss, or getting into some other kind of jam. But no longer. Tenure was now part of the DEA's contract with the city, meaning that any person who works three years as a detective stays a detective. "So what was the deal you had with Barrone? Support us on the tenure issue and you'd work to get him reelected?"
     "That was it, basically, and work I did. Me and my whole family, plus anyone else I could get to come out with me. Ringing doorbells, handing out pamphlets, making speeches, raising money, the whole rigmarole. Even got the DEA to endorse him as `the crime-fighting candidate' for all the good it did us. Soon as he's reelected, the slimeball doesn't know me anymore. He got in bed with the mayor and worked against us on the tenure clause. Made me look like a horse's ass, but I get him back every time I can. Hard as I worked for him, every time he's up for reelection I work even harder against him. He's won them all, but some were squeakers. Thanks to me, he's had to spend considerably more time and money to keep his job than he would've liked."
     "I understand, but you've made yourself a powerful enemy," McKenna observed.
     "So has he, Brian. So has he, but he must know that I'd never use his daughter's murder against him. I'll work just as hard to catch her killer as I do on every other case. Barrone having the mayor send you here is just a personal slap at me, nothing more."
     "Are you gonna tell Harney and Messing that?"
     "Yeah, but I'll ask them not to print it. I'm not sinking to Barrone's level just yet. He's got enough on his mind right now, so I'll let him think he's won."
     Tommy's still a kind guy, McKenna thought. He's been officially embarrassed, but he's not lashing back at his grieving tormentor just yet. "Should we set up the ground rules on how we're gonna work this case?" McKenna asked.
     "No need to. You just run it and I'll help you out as much as I can. Maybe we'll both learn some more about murder by the time this is over."
     "If you say so. I guess you've got a pretty good idea by now of how these two were done."
     "I know exactly how it was done. Let's walk through it."
     McKenna followed Tommy a short distance deeper into the woods to a fallen tree. "This is where he waited for them to arrive. Sat here quite a while," Tommy said, then crouched down on his knees. McKenna followed his lead and Tommy pointed to some cigarette ashes intermingled with the dead leaves. "No way of telling how many smokes he had, but he was careful. Took his butts with him. Left not another thing anywhere after he finished."
     "But it tells us something," McKenna said. "He didn't follow Cindy and her pal here. He was here waiting for them, targets of opportunity. He must've walked in and walked out of the park."
     "That's the way it looks, unless Cindy or her boyfriend made a habit of coming here. The only clue the killer left us is that he has to be from this area to know about this spot. After the victims arrived, he waited a few minutes longer while they went at it in the car. Her boyfriend gets his pants down, but we don't know what state of dress or undress she was in. In any event, none of her clothes are in the car."
     McKenna stared at the ground, searching for something the killer might have left behind, but Tommy was right. There was nothing but the ashes. No footprints he could see, no butts, nothing.
     "Ready to go on?" Tommy asked.
     "Let's go." He followed Tommy to the driver's side of the BMW.
     "He walks over and fires one shot through the closed window, killing this poor slob," Tommy said.
     "Any brass?"
     "No, but I'm betting he used an automatic. Held the gun in a paper bag to catch the ejected cartridge when he fired. I'm also betting that when Andino pulls the slug out of his head, he's gonna find paper residue burned into it from the bag."
     So we're dealing with a serial killer here, McKenna thought. Tommy's seen his work before. "What kind of gun is he using?"
     "If I had to guess, I'd say a .380 Colt Commander."
     McKenna waited for more facts from Tommy to justify his guess, but Tommy wasn't ready to show his cards yet. It could wait. "What happens next?"
     "The boyfriend never saw it coming, but whatever she was doing, maybe Cindy did. After the shot, she was sharp enough to open her door and run. But she wasn't fast enough and didn't get far."
     McKenna followed Tommy around the car and into the woods on the other side. "This is where he caught her," Tommy said, pointing to the ground. "Tackled her from behind and brought her down."
     McKenna could see that the fallen leaves on the ground had been shoved aside, exposing the ground where Cindy had been pulled down.
     "Found two things here," Tommy said. "There was some blood on one of the leaves here, presumably Cindy's, so he must have smacked her to bring her under control. I'm assuming he hit her on the side of the head with his gun because she's got a nasty lump there and I found this here." Tommy reached into his pocket, took out a handkerchief, and unfolded it to reveal a thin gold hoop earring with a small blood smear on it.
     "Which side of her head is the lump on?" McKenna asked.
     "The right side."
     "Doesn't look like there was much of a struggle here, so I'd say he hit her from behind when she was on the ground. If so, he was holding the gun in his right hand."
     "That's my thinking, too. We're looking for a right-handed killer, but that doesn't help us much. After he had her under control, he brought her over here."
     McKenna followed Tommy to a large tree growing at the the edge of the precipice. "Be careful, but take a look at the other side of this tree," Tommy said.
     McKenna held on to the tree and saw that the bark was recently scarred on the far side, two small marks. One was three feet up from the base of the tree and the other was about five feet up. "How tall is Cindy?"
     "Pretty tall. I'd say about five foot six."
     "Looks like he tied her to the tree at her neck and at her waist. Must have used some kind of chain to make those marks."
     "I'd say he used a couple of chain dog leashes, but the way he tied her is unusual. He used two sets of handcuffs, put one on each of her hands. He has her back against the tree with the chain tied around it at her neck. Then he stretched her arms back, ran the chain through the cuffs, and pinned her to the tree. Gagged her, then he probably went back to the spot I showed you before. Had a few more smokes and waited. If anyone else would've shown up here last night, maybe he would have left. But Cindy wasn't that lucky."
     "What was he waiting for?"
     "Dawn. He wanted to be able to see in order to enjoy himself thoroughly. Andino puts the guy's time of death at about one this morning, but Cindy's only been dead about four hours."
     McKenna checked his watch. Eleven-fifteen. "What time was dawn this morning?"
     "Five-ten."
     "So he tortured her for about an hour before he finally killed her."
     "Right, but it gets even more bizarre. Take a look here," Tommy said, pointing to the base of the tree. The ground had been stamped down there and many of the leaves had been broken into small pieces. Thousands of small drops of blood speckled the ground to the left and right of the tree, but there was no blood at the base. "She lose a lot of blood when he tortured her?"
     "Most of it."
     "So he spread a tarp on the ground under her feet," McKenna said. "Real careful. Caught most of her blood and anything he might have left."
     "You mean semen?"
     "Yeah, semen. I'm assuming he raped her, but pulled out because he didn't want to leave his semen behind."
     "Maybe you're right, but I don't think so. Andino says he shoved something in her orifices, but I don't think it was his dick. That's not the way this type gets off. He likes to watch the pain and degradation he's causing while he jerks off."
     McKenna took Tommy's opinion as a fact only because it was Tommy who was saying it. But it was time for Tommy to justify his opinions. "I guess you've seen this type of thing before."
     "Seen this very type of thing."
     "When?"
     "Eighteen years ago. August 10th, 1981."
     "Where?"
     "Right here. I knew just where to look for those marks on the tree because he chained his victim to the same tree last time. Also went right to the spot where he sat and waited. That fallen tree where he sat and had his smokes was still standing back then, but the ballsy prick had brought a lawn chair with him. Found the indentations in the ground where he had sat it down."
     "And how about that victim? Same type of torture?"
     "When the emergency service guys finally got Cindy's body up, I knew it was the same man. She suffered through the exact same kind of torture."
     "I guess you didn't solve that case."
     "Never even got close. It's not one of the ones I brag about. Matter of fact, hardly ever mention it to my fans."
     "Does Ray know we've got a serial killing case?"
     "Not yet. When I talked to him, Cindy's body was still down there," Tommy said, pointing down the precipice. "I wasn't certain until the ESU guys went down and brought her up, so you'll be the one to tell him."
     Problems for everybody, but especially me. A big case just got bigger, McKenna thought. Probably much bigger. "Serial killers don't kill once every eighteen years. There's other cases," he said.
     "That's what I thought, but not in this city there aren't. I take a look at every lovers lane case that comes up and I looked at all the older ones, but it was never the same killer."
     "How about the rest of the country?"
     "Thought I had another one in San Jose, California, about ten years ago. So many things were close. Gun used in that one was a .380 Colt Commander fired through a paper bag, but it wasn't the same gun. Victim was different, too. In that case the killer executed the woman right away, but it was the man he had his fun with. Tied him to a tree the same way and tortured him."
     "Same kind of torture?"
     "Different. Used the gun to kill the girl, but that guy was a slasher. This one's a whipper."
     "He used a whip on Cindy?"
     "Sure did. Really punished her, opened her up good."
     "And splattered her blood everywhere but in front of her," McKenna observed, pointing to the blood on both sides of the tree. "He must have gotten quite a bit of it on himself when he whipped her."
     "I'm assuming he did, but you've seen how careful he is. Maybe he was naked when he did it. If so, he just cleaned himself up before he left. If not, he brought a change of clothes with him."
     "That's another reason for the tarp in front. He didn't want to leave us any of his bloody footprints."
     "Like I said, real careful. You ready to take a look at Cindy?"
     "I guess so, but just one more question. Is Walsh gonna find anything here?"
     "Not a thing that'll help us. For once, the great Joe Walsh is gonna come up blank."
     "Too bad. Might as well get the unpleasantness over with."
     The two men walked to Cindy's body. Everyone was gone except Walsh and Andino. The blanket still covered her, but Walsh had pulled out her left hand and was busy taking her fingerprints.
     McKenna could see that Tommy was right about the handcuffs. He had seen the same circular marks before on the wrists of prisoners who had struggled to free themselves from the cuffs, but never so severe as Cindy's injuries. Her wrist was tattered, damage she had inflicted on herself as she struggled against her restraints during her painful ordeal.
     Since bodies are usually fingerprinted at the morgue, not the crime scene, McKenna assumed that Walsh had come up with some prints and wanted to compare them himself. "What'd you find, Joe?"
     "Nothing except many, many latent prints in and on the car. Guy was very cagey, but maybe I'll get lucky for you. Already printed the boyfriend and I'll just be another few minutes here," Walsh answered without looking up.
     While waiting for Walsh to finish, Tommy used the time to show Cindy's clothes to McKenna. She had worn a flowered pink blouse, a white skirt, panty hose, and a matching gray bra and panty set. The killer had used the whip to undress her. The clothes were ripped and in shreds, with bloodstains forming the boundaries of many of the tears in the fabric, but only the front of the clothing showed the damage wrought by the whip. The killer had whipped her to a pulp, then had torn off her clothes to check the damage and have some more fun.
     Neither man spoke as McKenna inspected the clothes. The shape the clothes were in gave McKenna some idea of the shape Cindy was in and he dreaded the prospect of seeing the damage done to her. "No purse?"
     "No, the killer took it with him. Can't find her other earring, so he probably took that too."
     Walsh was done. "I'm gonna do a quick comparison right now and I'll let you guys know if any of the prints I've lifted don't belong to the victims," he said, then walked off toward the Crime Scene Unit van.
     "Ready?" Tommy asked. McKenna braced himself and nodded. Tommy reached down and pulled the blanket off the body.
     McKenna had known what to expect, but the bloody sight caused him to gasp. Cindy Barrone hadn't just been murdered, she had been professionally savaged. A whip had been the killer's main instrument, and the torture had lasted long enough for welts to form while she was still alive. She was cut to pieces, with welts and long, ugly cuts all over the front of her body, but the killer had concentrated his fury on two places--her breasts and her face. Her nose, lips, ears, and breasts were gone, shredded by the whip.
     McKenna could see that Tommy was right. Most of her blood was gone, but not all of it. Her skin looked white and waxen, contrasting starkly with the red muscle and white bone where her insides had been exposed by the whip. The bruise on the right side of her head where the killer had struck her with the gun was still discernible, but too much of her face was gone for McKenna to judge her age with any degree of confidence.
     Cindy Barrone was to be a closed casket, McKenna was sure. He doubted that Paul Barrone would be able to recognize the face of his daughter.
     After looking over the rest of her, McKenna decided that she had the body of a young woman in her twenties who took care of herself. "How old was she?" he asked.
     "Twenty-six," Tommy answered.
     Young, rich, and everything to live for, flashed through McKenna's mind. Then he noticed that the sides of her buttocks had also received the ministrations of the whip. He had missed it at first because he had focused on the obvious damage on the front of her body. There was no blood, welts, or bruises on the side of her buttocks, just shredded skin over white, fatty tissue. "What did he do to her behind?" he asked.
     It was Andino who answered. "Another unusual twist. After she was dead, he unchained her and went to work on her buttocks with the whip. Pretty thorough job; man has a lot of rage in him. Fatty tissue exposed, but besides that there's anal penetration. I'm betting that was done with the whip as well. There's tearing and I'd say there's also internal damage."
     "You think he shoved the whip handle into her?" McKenna asked.
     "Yep, and she was already dead at the time. No rectal bleeding. Want to roll her over and take a look?"\par "That won't be necessary."
     "You'll also notice that her vagina is torn. I'd say he used the handle there as well, but the poor girl was alive for that."
     McKenna had to agree. Cindy's groin area showed no evidence of having been lashed, but there was dried blood congealed on her thighs around her vagina, and a lot of it.
     McKenna had seen enough. "You ready to venture a cause of death?"
     "Right now, I'd say she simply bled to death," Andino stated.
     "You ever seen anything like this before?"
     "Never even heard of a case like this."
     "How long you been the medical examiner, John?"
     "Seven years as the chief, three as the assistant chief. Before that, I was the medical examiner in St. Louis for seven years. Why you asking?"
     Tommy answered. "Because these aren't his first murders. He did another two in this same spot, same way, eighteen years ago. We figure he did other killings in between, but Brian just wanted to make sure he hasn't been doing them here."
     "Sounds like you've a lot of work ahead of you."
     "Sure do," McKenna agreed. "We'll be talking to every homicide detective in the country who's got an old unsolved torture case on his books."
     "Not just whipping cases?" Andino asked.
     "No. Not just whipping cases, only because there aren't any more. Tommy's had his ear to the ground for eighteen years and there hasn't been anything else like this one."
     "Still, there must have been hundreds of other unsolved torture cases in this crazy country over the past eighteen years," Andino observed.
     "Maybe thousands," Tommy said. "But thanks to the victim in this case, it looks like Brian's going to have the time and support to do it right."
     "I've got a worse job ahead of me when I go to see Paul Barrone and Cindy's husband," McKenna said. "I'm probably gonna bring them right to the morgue, so can you hold up on her autopsy until I do?"
     "Fine by me. I'll work on the guy first and get that bullet to your lab. Are you gentlemen done here?"
     "Are we?" McKenna asked Tommy.
     "Yeah, we're done."
     "Then so am I. See you later," Andino said, and left for his car.
     "What's next? Harney and Messing?" McKenna asked Tommy.
     "Yeah. I guess the guy in charge should be the one talking to them. That's you now."
     "Sorry, but you're right. Officially, it's me, so we can't have Barrone and the mayor reading interviews from you."
     "It's gonna be quite a story, especially when you throw in the old murders. Unfortunately, it's also going to tarnish my rep a bit. Messing and Harney will know better, but it's going to look to the readers like I don't have the new case because I screwed up the old one."
     "Nobody solves them all," McKenna offered.
     "But I sure wish I had solved that one. Would have saved these two lives."
     "This press thing brings us to our first problem," McKenna said. "This case is too big to give your two pals an exclusive. We're gonna have to have a full-blown press conference later on, probably sometime today."
     "I know that, but I figure that Barrone will be in on that one and he'll have his share to say. I'm sure he's going to try to make me look like a bumbler, so I'd rather you give Harney and Messing the jump and start the coverage with friends having sympathetic ears. You mind?"
     "Not at all. Let's go talk to them and then I have to get on to the next unpleasant task."
     "Barrone?"
     "Yeah, Barrone. I have to pay him a visit, but I don't think you should go with me."
     "I'd like to go along," Tommy said.
     Bad idea, McKenna thought. Why antagonize Barrone right now with Tommy's presence? He'll just run to the mayor and cause a problem for Ray.
     Tommy read his mind. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna cause any problems. I'll make it clear to him that he's won this time, that you're the man in charge."
     He'll make it clear that he's down, but not out, McKenna thought. What can I say to that? "Okay, suit yourself."
     Joe Walsh was waiting for them outside his van. "You going to be seeing the Barrone family?" he asked.
     "That's where we're headed," McKenna said.
     "Then you should print Cindy's husband and anybody else who had access to that car. Just a quick look tells me that I've got lots of prints that don't belong to the victims."
     "Good ones?"
     Walsh looked hurt by the question. "You should know by now that they're always good when I lift them. Want me to loan you a fingerprint kit?"
     "No, thanks. I've got a kit in my car," Tommy replied. "Besides, you should know by now that I'm in real trouble whenever I need something from you."
     

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