With all the rain they’d had in the past few weeks, the creek was higher than normal going into the fall season. The sound of water rushing along the rocky bed grew louder and louder as they approached the crime scene, blocking out the voices around them.
As Katie picked up her pace, McGaven slowed to allow Katie to take point and survey the body and immediate crime scene alone. As always, he hung back to cover the areas of entry, exit, potential evidence, and anything deemed unusual or possibly left by the killer.
As she approached the body, the crackling sound of police radios faded and voices all around her lowered to a muted tone. She blocked out everything that might interfere with her concentration and focus. Refining extreme focus was something she had learned in the army—it kept her attention expertly sharpened and alive.
This time, Katie decided that she wasn’t going to stop and speak with Detective Hamilton first, but forge straight ahead while she still had a little light to work with. She needed to stop worrying about the other detectives and keep her attention on her orders from the sheriff and on the investigation.
The crime-scene techs were readying themselves and waiting for the order to document and collect evidence. They nodded at her as she made her way around several large trees until she reached the yellow tape.
The sound of running water from the creek increased in volume again as she felt a slight mist spray her face where the intensified humidity hit cold air. Her boot heels started sinking into the soil; it took her total concentration to keep from falling down or slipping into the creek.
Why did the killer pick this spot?
Was it because no one would hear the girl’s screams or pleas for help?
Katie stopped abruptly and sucked in a breath as her eyes adjusted to what was in front of her. Approximately three feet away, illuminated in a yellow pool of lamplight, lay the naked body of Mary Rodriguez, lying on her side, eerily reminiscent of the other victim. Her arms were tied behind her back, one shoulder protruded upward, horribly discolored as if it had been dislocated, and her face looked directly at Katie with open eyes. Her expression was that of torture and pleading—Katie had difficulty keeping her eyes locked on the body.
Steadying her trembling hands, Katie slipped on a pair of gloves. To the outside world she appeared calm, but her anxiety was always ready to wreak havoc on her nervous system during accelerated times of stress.
There were no obvious footprints or drag marks around the body, which seemed strange: either the killer expertly covered his tracks or had some way of tossing the body without any evidence of detection.
Unusual.
Disturbing.
In Katie’s peripheral vision, she saw Detective Hamilton talking to McGaven. She knew that there were others around, but tried to block everyone out and focus only on the victim.
She leaned down to examine the girl’s wrists tied behind her back. There were numerous deep red and purple marks with areas of dried blood on her wrists and up her forearm, indicating that she had been restrained for some time before she drew her last breath. Her neck was also ringed with the same type of ligature marks, which indicated she had been strangled. There was no sign of decomposition—just the beginning stages of rigor mortis with the stiffening of limbs. If Katie had to guess she would estimate this poor girl had been dead less than a few hours, but the medical examiner would confirm in the report.
She noticed that the victim’s short blonde hair had dark roots and showed areas of damage with patches missing from her scalp, as if the killer had pulled the hair out forcefully in a struggle.
Taking in the positioning of the body one final time, she carefully moved the torso to one side so that she could see between the girl’s shoulder blades and down to the lower back. The body’s stiffening limbs made it somewhat difficult, but Katie managed to see what she dreaded most—hand-carved letters on the skin with slightly running ink that read ‘raccoglitore di cacciatori’.
Hunter-gatherer.
Katie now knew that it was a distinct possibility they were dealing with a serial killer hunting and gathering victims…
The crime scene was in an out-of-the-way location and the killer seemed intent on dumping the body at this exact site. There were no visible footprints or drag marks and it didn’t seem likely that the rain had washed them away. Did the killer travel to the creekside in some type of boat, like a canoe or row boat? As she studied the body, it made her wonder why at that spot, naked and with the message.
Why? For the drama? Not to be found straightaway? Wouldn’t it have been more efficient to leave the body on the trail or in the parking lot? In some ways, the crime scene appeared planned due to the preparations it took to get the body there. And in other ways, it appeared haphazard to dump the body beside a creek.
Katie stood up and did a quick 360-degree sweep to double-check for footprints in the dirt or surrounding landscape, but the night was closing in and the evidence technicians were more apt to catch anything that was initially overlooked by detectives.
“What do you think?” asked McGaven over the sound of the rushing creek water. He had done his own inspection of the scene and now waited to compare notes with his partner.
Katie turned to him and said, “We have another ‘raccoglitore di cacciatori’.” Her tightly knitted eyebrows and slightly downturned mouth told him everything he needed to know about the seriousness of the case they had been handed.
“Hunter-gatherer,” he replied to himself.
“Who called in the body?” Katie asked, raising her voice.
“Avid hiker whose dog got away and then found the body,” he said.
Katie looked around the body for pawprints, but saw nothing. If a curious dog had found the body, there would be dozens. “Was it an anonymous call?”
“Yes.”
“Man or woman?”
“It was unclear.”
“Unclear?” she said. “What do you mean?”
“It was one of those electronic voices.”
“You mean like for the hearing impaired?” she said.
“No, like the person used an electronic voice changer. You can buy these devices almost anywhere where electronics are sold.”
“Very clever, so the caller wanted to disguise their voice,” she said, still scrutinizing the area once again. “The killer called it in, probably due to the fact that the creek levels are rising, wanting to make sure that the body was found where he left it. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow when a hiker might stumble upon it. The body might’ve washed downstream by then.” She took a step back, still troubled by the scene. “Why is this location so important to the killer and what does it have to do with the teen girl’s foster home at Elm Hill Mansion?”
McGaven didn’t immediately answer, but finally said, “I’ll put in more searches on the usage of hunter-gatherer, where it originated, books and movies that used the saying, and anything that refers to it.”
“I agree. Anything that would help to profile the killer.” She squatted down and looked at the restraints again. “Why these particular girls? What connects them besides the foster home? Too much trouble went into dumping the body here for it to be unimportant. If you can, maybe search notable crime scenes where bodies were found by water, like a creek, river, and even the beach. Might try other counties too.”