Bennett reached for a Styrofoam cup. “How do you take it?” she asked Macy.
“Three sugars and two creams.” Macy set her backpack on the table. “While we’re waiting on Nevada, I’d like to get background on the missing girls and the rape cases that preceded them.”
“Of course.”
Macy unzipped her backpack and pulled out her yellow pad, as well as a couple of pens. She was tech savvy, but she preferred writing her notes on pristine yellow paper. Over the course of an investigation, the pad would work overtime, filling up with notes on every line and along the margins.
Bennett laid each file out on the conference table in a precise line, displaying their neatly typed labels. Oswald, Susan, June 15, 2004. Carter, Ellis, July 15, 2004. Kennedy, Rebecca, August 15, 2004. The three folders were noticeably thin.
Macy’s initial impression was that each attack had occurred in the middle of the month. It was the first hint of a pattern. The dates could be as simple as the rapist’s work schedule. He attacked then because he had the time off. Those dates also signaled the new moons of the lunar cycle. The night sky would have been darker. They were also summer dates that spoke of warm weather, time off from school, or a vacation. Whether the rapist understood his pattern or not, she believed the dates weren’t coincidental.
Macy flipped open the top folder. Oswald, Susan. The first page featured a picture of a pale face splashed with freckles. Susan’s lips were drawn tight, and mascara was smudged under watery green eyes. Bruising ringed her neck. The pale-pink flowers of a hospital gown revealed the image was taken during the rape evidence collection. Susan’s eyes sparkled not only with tears but also with shame and hints of a broken soul.
Macy curled the fingers of her left hand into a fist, reminding herself why she had been put on this planet. Her sole purpose was finding monsters like this and locking them away.
“Good, you’ve made yourself at home,” Nevada said from the doorway.
Bennett tensed and stood a fraction straighter. “Sheriff Nevada. Coffee?”
Nevada removed his ball cap. A grin softened the hard angles of his face. “When did you start getting me coffee?”
Bennett’s expression remained stoic. “I’m putting on a show for the FBI.”
He accepted the cup. “Fair enough, but I get you your next cup.”
Macy searched for any hint of sexual desire between the two. Not that their sex lives were any of her business. But to her relief, she didn’t detect any connection between the two beyond professional respect.
“Sheriff, do you want me to give Agent Crow the rundown?”
“Please,” he said.
Bennett gestured toward the chairs. “If you two will have a seat, I will share what we have on these cases.”
Macy sipped, noting Bennett had made a credible cup of coffee. She pulled out a chair, and Nevada selected the one directly across from her. When he shrugged off his jacket, the cuff of his sweater rose slightly, revealing a scar that ran up his arm. She remembered the scar and was curious about it. But when they had been an item, both had avoided personal questions.
Bennett opened the first file and taped the victim’s picture to the board. She moved through the files, plucking pictures and securing each next to the other until she had completed a chilling lineup of broken, vacant expressions.
Macy’s thoughts jumped to the few pictures she’d found of her birth mother. They had all been taken before her captivity, but Macy could easily imagine how the girl must have changed after suffering the trauma of multiple rapes.
Bennett uncapped the black dry-erase marker. “Thanks to Sheriff Nevada, we were able to obtain a federal grant to test backlogged rape kits from Deep Run and the surrounding counties.” There were thousands of DNA kits taken from rape victims across the country that weren’t tested, often due to rising lab expenses and shrinking municipal budgets. “DNA testing linked together these three rapes, which occurred within a thirty-mile radius of Deep Run.”
Bennett tapped Susan’s picture. “The first case occurred ten miles from here. Susan Oswald, seventeen at the time of the attack, was living with her parents in a one-story rancher located on an acre of land. Her attacker surprised her while she was sleeping, tied her to her bed, and spent the next hour sexually assaulting her. He left her secured to the bed, and she was not found until the next morning when her mother checked on her.”
“Her mother slept through the incident?” Macy asked.
“Her mother had severe health issues. She died the following year.”
“There’s bruising on her neck,” Macy said.
“The rapist wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed a little, but she assumed that was to restrain her.”
“He didn’t try to strangle her?” Macy asked.
“No,” Bennett said.
“But he wanted to,” Macy said. Aware of Nevada’s keen attention, she noted the black-and-blue discolorations on each subsequent victim’s neck. Each was worse than the last. “He was working up the nerve to kill. The injuries suggest greater aggression with each new crime.”
“I believe you’re right,” Bennett said. “The last victim was strangled until she was unconscious.” She pointed to the image of Rebecca Kennedy. “In fact, Ms. Kennedy stated that when she passed out, her attacker revived her. He said it wasn’t her time to die yet.”
“He was evolving,” Macy said. “These all occurred in this county?”
“Correct,” Bennett said.
“Greene investigated all these cases but chose not to submit the rape kits?”
“Yes,” Bennett said.
“Is he a lousy investigator, or does he have a bias against sexual assault cases?” Macy asked.
Bennett clicked the top of her marker on and off. “For the most part, he was a very effective investigator. He broke up the rural drug labs regularly, his policies cut the drunk driving rate in half, and when Tobi Turner vanished, he was relentless.”
“He had one hell of a blind spot in the summer of 2004,” Macy said. “Was he undergoing personal issues?”
“His wife was ill at the time,” Bennett said. “She died the following year.”
Cops were human, and personal lives got in the way of good police work, but a sick wife didn’t excuse fifteen years of inaction. “Since you established the DNA connection, have you reached out to surrounding localities?”
“I have,” Bennett said. “I sent teletypes to jurisdictions in Virginia, West Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina.”
“Good. It’s important to look beyond your borders,” Macy said.
Law enforcement didn’t always look beyond the boundaries of their community. The phenomenon was called linkage blindness. This limited view of crime allowed some offenders to operate for years between multiple localities.
Bennett appeared cool, but the steady click, click of the dry-erase marker top suggested this discussion put her on edge. The deputy had worked for the former sheriff for nine years. Based on Bennett’s partial defense of Greene, Macy assumed there was some loyalty there.
“I’ve studied and mapped the attack locations of the rapes, as well as the last known locations of Tobi Turner,” Nevada said.
He walked to a large map of Virginia mounted on the wall and ran his finger along I-81, the north-south spine of the Blue Ridge Mountains. “The rapes are comingled into a single area in the west end of the county. The Wyatt barn, where Tobi Turner’s remains were found, is on the opposite side of the county.”
Investigators used geographic profiling and pinged off of crime scene locations hoping to identify patterns. Nevada was one of the best at this technique and had used it to track many wanted criminals.
“Was the assailant a resident of the area, or was he commuting back and forth to a job?” Macy asked.
“Good question,” Nevada said.
Nevada circled his finger around the two target areas. “The houses of the rape victims were off the beaten path, as was the barn. He’s familiar with the county.”
“Offenders typically don’t like to kill too close to home, so I’d say he doesn’t live in the two attack zones,” Macy said.
“He may not live in Deep Run,” Nevada said. “With the interstate, he might not even live in the area. He could be using I-81 as a pipeline to his victims.”
“That’s a logical conclusion,” she said.
“So you’re saying he’s not a local?” Bennett asked. The pen top clicked again and again.
“We’re just throwing out ideas at this point,” Macy said. “Have you had any missing persons cases over the last fifteen years?”
“No. We do have a local girl who is currently missing. Her name is Debbie Roberson. Her mother called us and was worried. I went by her house, but there was no sign of her car. I knocked on the door, but no answer.”
“What’s your assessment?” Macy asked.
“Most likely she’s taken a few days off,” Bennett said.
“Have you checked with her employer?” Macy asked.
“Next on the list if she doesn’t show up in the next hour,” Bennett said.