Red Ribbons in Her Hair Ch. 03

Date: 26.01.2010

Keywords: Hair, in, Ribbons, 03, Red, Her, Ch.,

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"I don't know anything yet, Kaylee. I've got to go work the scene. I need you to stay put here and then I'll be back to talk to you in a little while." He patted her on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

A car pulled in, a man in a suit getting out and storming towards one of the officers. Gabe saw him, gave Kaylee one last reassuring smile and then went to head him off.

"I'm sorry sir, this is a crime scene and you can't be here."

"My name is Tyler Wentworth. I own this restaurant." The older man puffed out his chest and tried to stare Gabe down. "I want to know what's going on here. Do you know what all this halibaloo is going to do to business?"

He stood his ground. "Mr. Wentworth, I don't have all the facts yet. When I do, I'll be happy to let you know all the pertinent data. Until that time," he grabbed the man by the shoulder, "if you could go and talk to that man over there," he pointed towards the man he'd brought with him, Detective Alan Scott. "He'll have some questions for you."

The crime scene team along with the coroner's van showed up as he was talking. Gabe pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, pulling them on as he turned toward the back door of the building.

Walking inside, he could smell a strong scent of cleaner. Under it, the unmistakable smell of death mixed with the scent of cooking from the kitchen area. The tiles on the floor gleamed, and he stepped to the side of the door, hugging the wall of the hallway. Tile floors were excellent for lifting shoe prints, as long as the killer hadn't cleaned behind himself.

He found himself in the entryway to the office, staring at the victim's body. Devon Basset sat behind the desk, her body dressed garishly in clothing that was too tight for her heavier body. Her face had been made up, bright blue eye makeup covered her eyes, harshly red blush streaked her pale cheeks, and garishly scarlet lipstick covered her lips and smeared over her skin.

Her blonde hair was brushed back and a red ribbon tied in a bow just above her ear. A red halter bit into her ample breasts. She was propped up behind the desk, tied to the chair behind her. One glance sent a chill down Gabe's spine. Kaylee was right, if this was the same man, Devon definitely wasn't his normal choice in victims, being twenty years older than the oldest of the first five victims. She was also heavier and with hair the wrong color.

Gabe moved into the room, cautiously. There was a sheet of paper on the desk, a pen lying lax in Devon's hands that were resting upon the paper. From what he could see on the paper, an almost illegible scrawl had written two words. "I'm Sorry."

"Sorry for what, Devon?" Gabe asked aloud.

The coroner came in, stepping to the other side of Gabe. "Oh my," he said as he got his first glance. "Someone really has a problem with women."

"Or with this woman," Gabe said. "How you doing, Mitch?"

Doctor Mitch Vetnor was their coroner, thirty two years old and a huge player of practical jokes. But he took his job and his patients seriously. "Doing good, Gabe. Was better before I saw this but..." Mitch shrugged. He reached around, feeling for a pulse. "Welp, she's definitely dead."

"Funny, Mitch, now tell me something I don't know."

Mitch moved around to the other side of the body. He carefully moved part of her hand. "She's just coming out of rigor. I'd say time of death was yesterday sometime, very early." He moved her head to the side slightly, exposing deep puffy bruises, caused by fingers. "I'd say cause of death was suffocation. And from the look of the bruises and the way they ring her neck," he looked up at Gabe, "I'd say she was strangled until she was unconscious and then brought around so that he could do it over and over."

"Shit," Gabe hissed.

"Yeah. I'll be able to give you more at my post after I open her up. This is one sick fuck, Gabe." Mitch stepped back as the crime scene analysts showed up at the door. "I'll get out of your way, tell me when I can take the body." He walked out.

Kiley Ames and Brandon Staples from the crime lab, each carrying a metal case, Kiley with a camera around her neck, stopped just inside of the door.

"Jeez," Kiley breathed. She sat down her case and lifted up her camera, taking duplicate overalls of the entire room before taking pictures of the note, the pen just lying on Devon's hands. "I thought our guy was into brunettes? Escalating?"

"Or making a statement." Gabe leaned over, staring down at the paper. "I wonder what he wanted her to be sorry about."

"We'll get it printed right away, Gabe. He's got to start making mistakes soon. They always do, sooner or later." Brandon lifted the note in his latex covered hands and slid it carefully into an evidence bag. The pen went into another. He sealed the bags and slipped them into another bag.

"Kiley, get some pictures of her wrists." He moved out of the way, holding her arms out slightly so that the ligature marks could be plainly seen.

Gabe stared down at her bare legs, seeing the same torn and bruised skin around her ankles. Large gashes, made by something very hard and tight that she struggled against ringed her ankles. Ropes caused bruises, burns and chafing marks. These ligature marks looked more like something made with plastic or wire.

Blood had run in streaks down her legs, drying on her pale skin. Gabe felt a surge of unprofessional rage well inside of him. Murder was dirty; it was a cheap thrill for a sick mind. Crimes of passion were more easily understood, rage could affect anyone. But a serial killer was like a sick dog. He killed for the thrill, for the joy, for the pleasure that he derived from someone else's pain.

And a man who would take a young woman away from her family for no other reason than his own personal perversions was the worse. That's what they were up against here.

"Get me results quick as you can, okay?" he touched dark haired Kiley on the shoulder. "And be careful. I don't want to come to a scene like this and find you."

Kiley tapped the Glock strapped to her side. "He wouldn't find me an easy victim, Gabe, but thanks for caring." She smiled and turned back to her work as Gabe slipped out of the room.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Kaylee sat up straighter when she saw Gabe walk out of the restaurant door. Tears streaked her cheeks and her head throbbed from stress and crying. She gave him a tremulous smile as he walked up to the car door.

"This is my fault, isn't it?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"No, this isn't your fault, Kaylee, how could you think that?" He crouched down in front of her. "A killer took her, he murdered her. It's his fault, not yours."

"But he left me that box, didn't he? He broke into my car and left that box. He took her and killed her. He must be watching me. So it is my fault she's dead." Tears slipped down her cheeks despite her best effort to stop them.

"Listen to me, Kaylee. You didn't do anything to attract him. This isn't your fault. You've got to believe that, okay?"

"Okay," she said, but he heard the doubt in her voice.

"I need to get a statement from you. I'm going to have you taken downtown. I want you to wait for me there."

"Can't I stay with you now?" Kaylee looked around the area nervously. "I feel like I'm being watched."

Gabe stared at the gathering crowd of people. Their killer could be there watching them right now. A lot of serials liked to watch the cops work the scene. They got a thrill out of standing so close to the men that were hunting them, out of seeing what havoc their handiwork wrought.

"Kaylee, I want you to look at the crowd out there and tell me if anyone seems even vaguely familiar. Can you do that?"

She took the hand he held out and got out of the car as he stood up.

"Just make it nonchalant., nothing over. Just scan the crowd. We don't want to alert him."

Kaylee stared around at the crowd, her eyes scanning each face. She saw people that were regulars at the restaurant, a couple looking upset that they were missing their morning coffee because the manager managed to get herself killed.

She saw a few men that, to her untrained eyes, could look suspicious, but not a single one had their eyes trained on her.

"I don't recognize any of them, Gabe. I'm sorry." She glanced around again, catching the eyes of one man, a dark haired man. There was nothing unusual about him, nothing that screamed out that he was a serial killer. Why couldn't they all have wild eyes and bushy hair with a swastika tattooed between their eyes like Charlie Manson?

"When was the last time you saw Devon, Kaylee?" he asked.

"Two days ago. I was working a split shift that day, the day you came to the restaurant. She left about an hour before you came in." She rubbed a tired hand across her aching forehead. "She'd reamed me out at the restaurant for being late for my shift. Oh, God, the last thought I had about her was how I wished someone would kill her and put her out of my misery." She closed her eyes as shame flashed through her. "How could I wish that on anyone?"

"You're normal. That's how." He patted her arm. "She didn't seem upset or concerned about anything when she left? Was she alone?"

"I got nothing more than the usual Devon BS. She snapped at me and told me to be on time today. And," she tipped her head to the side, thinking, "as far as I know, she's never with anyone. She never had many friends."

"Okay. I'm going to have you taken downtown now. We'll get into this more then. I'll be there as soon as I can." He wished he could touch her in some way, let her know that he would be there for her. He'd had problems getting her out of is head since the first time he'd seen her, standing with a tray of food, making a face at a two year old boy that had sent the little boy into peals of laughter.
He finally decided to try and talk to the driver, hoping to figure out what was happening. "Excuse me," he said, "Where are we going?"

The boy didn't even turn around to answer.

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Keywords: Hair, in, Ribbons, 03, Red, Her, Ch.,


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