Kenhardt - Secrets 26

‘Not only does the first signify high importance,’ Gus began. ‘But so does the last - the seventh - Paul Monoly, The Sad Killer’s grand finale. What was so unique about Paul? Why was he the only victim that was shot?’ ‘Right,’ Joe nodded. ‘Blunt force trauma to the head as well, right?’ Gus nodded. ‘Officers found a giant rock beside the body with blood on it. The Medical Examiner concluded that Paul must have been hit with that over the head first, but it didn’t kill him. This cause of death was one bullet through the brain.’ ‘And this giant rock,’ Joe said. ‘It was at the crime scene already?’ ‘Yeah.’ Gus said. ‘It was one of those Crystals. An antique looking thing.’ ‘So weapon of opportunity, then,’ Joe said. Gus nodded. ‘Mike Darby was weapon of opportunity as well. Suffocated with a pillow found in his home.’ ‘So does that mean our Unsub was unprepared, or simply preferred to use something that was already readily available to them?’ ‘It was unclear,’ Gus said. ‘Because the other five kills were done with weapons brought by the Unsub - actually, the last one, Paul Monoly, died from his own gun.’ ‘So the killer brings his own knife for two of the kills, a rope for another two, uses a pillow that was already at the Vic’s house for two, and for the grand finale, another weapon of opportunity; the victim’s own gun.’ Gus nodded. ‘Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, does it?’ ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘It doesn’t.’ He thought for a moment, piecing together everything they had just discussed. ‘I was talking with Martin Gall earlier,’ Joe said. ‘He says you had a few suspects at one point. Even made an arrest. But no luck.’ Gus shook his head. “We had this one guy, I recall. He fit the profile. Was a bit of a loner, lived in his mother’s basement, was forty - two years old. He worked at the Docks. No alibi for any of the murders. But when it came down to it, there just wasn’t enough evidence to prove it was him.’ ‘So do you think it was him?’ ‘No,’ Gus shook his head. ‘At first I did. But the more we interrogated him, the more it became clear that he wasn’t our guy.’ ‘What do you think happened to our killer? Why did he stop?’ ‘My guess was that there was only two reasons he would have stopped. He either got what he came for and stopped the killings, or he moved on and changed his M.O. Kept killing in different ways, in different provinces across the country. He disguised his M.O each time he killed, he was essentially making himself untraceable.’ ‘And which option are you leaning towards?’ Gus thought about this for a moment. ‘Seven men within five months, all murdered and left with one word beside the body,’ he took a break. ‘With my expertise in this field, I’d have to go with the latter. Serial murderers don’t usually go after people they know - so It’s unlikely that this was some hit- list he was accomplishing. Especially since there was nothing linking the victims together in any way. I’d say this guy moved on from Kenhardt. Graduated to a bigger city and kept killing. Who knows where he is today.’ ‘Do you think he’s still alive? Out there somewhere?’ Gus though about this again. ‘Maybe. And if he is, he’s likely as old and immobilized as I am.’ he said. ‘Or, he’s dead. And in that case, we have nothing to worry about.’ ‘Yeah,’ Joe said. ‘But I Guess we’ll never know.’ **************** He felt guilty. As though he was betraying Olivia by being happy with Jordan. And no matter how many times he told himself that he was being ridiculous, nothing seemed to change. He knew what kind of person Olivia was. He knew that she would want him to move on and be happy. Yet still, every now and then, she would appear at the forefront of his mind, illuminating here, reminding him of the horrible thing that happened to her. Joe arrived at the Kenhardt police station a little after ten. Kennedy and Jesse were already inside, talking with Frank and Hal. Joe was relieved to see that Hal had given up on his cult theory and was finally beginning to take this investigation seriously. ‘There you are, Kennedy said when he walked in the room. ‘O’Reily,’ Frank stood. ‘Have a seat. How was your Sunday?’ ‘It was alright. Had brunch with Jordan, then spent the rest of the day racking my brain about this case.’ Frank laughed. ‘Join the club.’ ‘No rest for the Wicked,’ Hal remarked. Joe took a seat across from Kennedy. ‘What are we looking at?’ he asked, grabbing the piece of paper that sat on the table. ‘Toxicology report.’ Kennedy said. ‘For Anya Wilson.’ ‘That was quick,’ Joe remarked, skimming over the information on the paper. ‘Frank has friends in high places,’ Kennedy told him. ‘Rushed it as fast as he could.’ ‘Grand,’ Joe said, continuing to read. ‘She was on Zopiclone,’ Kennedy said before he could even finish reading the page. ‘Used to treat Insomnia.’ Joe placed the sheet back on the table and looked at her. ‘She was having trouble sleeping. SO WHAT?’ ‘That’s not all,’ Kennedy said, leaning across the table and pointing her finger at a section of the page. ‘She was also on sertraline - Zoloft.’ Joe stared at her, not saying a word. ‘She was suffering from depression.’ Kennedy said, the words piercing Joe like a knife. ‘You’re back to the suicide theory, then, ‘ Joe remarked, leaning back in his chair. He Didn’t know how to process this information. ‘This is good,’ Kennedy said. ‘This is solid evidence. We’re getting somewhere.’ ‘No,’ Joe leaned forward once again. ‘We’re not. Those girls were not depressed. And even if Anya was, the other two weren’t. And that just doesn’t make sense now, does it? Anya is depressed and wants to kill herself, so, what…? The girls offer to join her? Best friends till the end, right?’ ‘No,’ Kennedy said, staring at him defiantly. ‘But this is more than you’ve got.’ ‘Don’t,’ Joe said. ‘Don’t do that. You have your tangible evidence, I have my interviews and witness statements. Which one do you think will prove more useful in the end?’ ‘Do you really want me to answer that?’ She countered. ‘Enough,’ Frank said, Looking between the both of them.’ Anya was taking medication for Insomnia and depression. Makes logical sense if this was an isolated incident. But O’Reily is right. It still doesn’t explain the other two.’ ‘Well Then O’Reily better do his job and figure out exactly what was going on in those girls’ lives,’ Kennedy snapped. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Joe snapped back. ‘Okay!’ Jesse interrupted. ‘Let’s all calm down. Ken, get back with forensics. Joe, go talk to your people. We’ll reconvene at five - thirty. SOUND GOOD?’ Joe nodded silently. Kennedy made some sort of sound through her nose. Frank stood. Joe drove back to where it all began. St. Paul’s Catholic School. Ironic that a catholic school could see so much demise and spectacle. He waited in the lobby for Mrs Langley. She was in a meeting with a member from the school board. Joe fiddled with his pen while he waited, observing his surroundings. Finally, the door opened and an older gentleman walked out. Rebecca Langley said her formalities, then turned to Joe. He stood up and walked into her office. She closed the door behind them, then took a seat at her desk. ‘Detective O’Reily,’ she said. ‘Pleasure as always. What can I do for you today?’ ‘I need to know if any of the students have been acting differently since the girls’ deaths.’ ‘Differently?’ ‘Yes. I know you said last week that counselling was setup for students to attend for grieving. Perhaps I could speak with the counsellor, see if she’s noticed anything.’ ‘Okay,’ Rebecca said. ‘What are you hoping to accomplish?’ ‘If those girls were pushed, then whoever did it might be feeling guilty or remorseful. They might have seen the counsellor, tried to talk about how they were feeling.’ ‘You think another student did this?’ ‘Well I’m just not sure who else would do something like this, given the means, time, location, and access.’ ‘I…’ she started, then stopped. ‘Unless it was a faculty member.’ ‘Of course not,’ Rebecca said quickly. ‘But a student? It’s just seem so…’ ‘Unimaginable? Believe me, I know. But the possibility of a triple suicide is growing farther and farther away as the day’s progress. In all likelihood, if the girls were pushed, it was someone in this school. A someone who had access to the roof and knew the girls would be there. Apparently they were known to go up there sometimes, to talk and eat their lunch. So it would be a crime of opportunity, throwing out our earlier theory that the girls were somehow lured up there,’ Joe explained, ‘I will also need attendance records to see who was in class and who was absent, considering this happened just before the lunch hour.’ She closed her eyes and placed her finger and thumb to her forehead. “This is a disaster.’ Joe remained quiet. ‘They should never have been up on that roof,’ she said. ‘There’s not much we can do about that now,’ Joe said. ‘First, get me in contact with the counsellor. Then, speak with your faculty. See if any of them have noticed any inconsistencies in attendance this past week, Maybe mood or behavioural changes. But something strange and abnormal, not just sad, because of course everyone is grieving. We’re looking for someone who is a little less interested than the others. Someone perhaps who has detached themselves from the situation. They know they’re guilty and they want to stay as far away from this case as they possibly can. It could have been an accident for al we know. But still, there’s a good possibility that someone in this school pushed them. And we need to find out who.’ Joe met with Vanessa Mentoor, the school counsellor. She was young - he guessed anywhere between twenty five and twenty eight at best. She had dark curly hair and Caramel brown eyes. A pleasant smile for a pleasant woman. She was very accommodating, invited him into her office and offered to help as best as she could. “Pull up a chair, Take a taste, Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious…”