Dead End (Kaely Quinn Profiler #3) - Nancy Mehl Page 0,1
She appeared to be in her early twenties, and she had dark hair.
“How long has she been dead, Jim?”
“Gotta get her back to the office to be sure, but I’d guess she’s been deceased three or four days. Maybe five.” He shook his head and pulled up her left hand. “Engaged. Nice ring. Dressed nicely too. This gal must have a decent job. Probably came from a good family as well.”
“How can you tell that?” The chief was used to working with the medical examiner’s office, but they constantly surprised him with their expertise.
“Her teeth.”
He lowered the girl’s hand and then pulled on her lips until her teeth were fully exposed. Everett looked away. He’d been the police chief in Des Moines for more than twenty years, but dead bodies still bothered him. An old detective, now retired, once told him if you looked into the eyes of the dead, you were responsible for them. He felt responsible enough. He tried hard not to get personally involved in the lives of victims. But sometimes . . . This girl was young. Pretty. Engaged to be married. She deserved better than this.
“What about her teeth?” he finally asked, knowing Jim would wait until he did.
“Straightened. And not recently. She had parents who made sure she had braces.”
Everett frowned. “We got a report about a gal who went missing a few days ago. I’m betting it’s her. Can’t remember the name right now.”
“I can’t give you a name either.” Jim sighed. “No purse.” He reached gingerly into one of the girl’s pants pockets. His hand came up empty. Then he reached into her other pocket and slowly pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it carefully. “Marriage license application. Filled out but not signed by the groom.”
“You got a name?”
“Rebecca Jergens. Twenty-three. Lives in town.”
“Yeah, that rings a bell. But she signed it?”
Jim nodded. “Maybe she was on her way to meet her fiancé. Have him sign.”
“Or maybe he’s a suspect.”
“Maybe.” Jim drew out the word as if he didn’t really want to release it.
Everett glanced at the couple who found the body and were now being interviewed by one of his detectives. They were obviously traumatized by their discovery. The man kept muttering something that sounded like no more birthday presents, but that didn’t make any sense. Everett chalked it up to shock.
He took a step closer to Jim. “Something bothering you?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Red ribbons.
“What? Are you serious?”
Jim brushed the dirt off the victim’s shoes to further expose a red ribbon. Then he reached for something next to the body and held it up. Another red ribbon. “It came off when your men pulled her out of that hole. I’m guessing it was around her hands.”
The butterflies in Everett’s stomach turned into wasps. “Some joker thinks he’s funny.” He noticed the victim’s right hand was still covered with dirt. Jim hadn’t examined it yet.
The men looked at each other. They didn’t need to say anything to know they were thinking the same thing. Jim finally reached for the girl’s closed fist. When he pulled it open, something fell to the ground. He carefully picked it up and held it out for Everett to see. A twisted piece of wire.
Everett felt as if the breath had been sucked out of his lungs. It took everything he had to clear his throat and speak. “Is that what I think it is?” He was praying it wasn’t.
Jim looked closely at the object. Then he looked up at the chief and nodded.
“Of course, it’s not him,” Everett said, his voice unsteady. “He’s in prison.”
“I realize that. But how could this killer know about the angel? You never released that information, right?”
Everett had no answer for him. Twenty-one years had gone by since the serial killer known as The Raggedy Man had terrorized Des Moines. Ed Oliphant had killed fourteen women—that they knew of. He hunted at night, dressed as a homeless person, looking for women who might show compassion toward him so he could pull them off the street and into an alley or a deserted building. One night a little girl saw him drag a woman away. She told her parents about it, but they hadn’t understood the seriousness of her story until later.
The little girl had described Ed Oliphant as a raggedy man.
When her parents were interviewed by a local paper, the media started calling the killer The Raggedy Man. Then in an article written to warn the public, a talented FBI behavioral