One Kill Away Read online

  Audra noted the deadbolt in place on the front door, the window latched at the top. She looked around the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the furniture, searching for a break in the pattern, something out of the ordinary. The room was an epitome of bachelor living. Two pairs of socks kicked off on the floor. A faded sweatshirt, turned inside out, tossed over an arm of the sofa. An open bag of potato chips with its crumbs spilled on an end table.

  The sofa and chair, rumpled and well-worn, looked as if they had been picked up at a yard sale, or maybe even rescued from someone’s curb during cleanup week. Stacks of glossy magazines were piled on the coffee table. Audra scanned the titles—Freshly Inked, Tattoo, and Guns & Ammo. Two envelopes lay beside them, both slit along the top. One was a bill from Eastlink for cable and telephone service. The other was a bank statement showing a balance of $3,294.47. Purchases in the past month were made at liquor stores, grocery stores, different fast food joints, and several from Skull ‘N Bones Tattoo Studio.

  Nothing seemed to be displaced.

  Audra walked around the room some more. She didn’t see any photos. No family, no friends, not even one of Todd Dory.

  She left the living room for the bedroom. She sprang the roller shade and checked the window. Locked. She turned to face the room. A bare light bulb hung from a cord in the middle of the ceiling. The bed had no frame, just a double mattress and box spring placed directly on the floor. No sheet covered the top or cases on the pillows. A blue comforter was pushed to one side.

  The small dresser pressed against the right wall was beat up with peeling veneer and a handle missing from one drawer. Loose change, a wallet, and a cell phone laid on top. A single bi-fold door closed off the closet. The bedside table held a plain clock radio with jumbo numbers reading 11:53. Next to it, another doorway led into the bathroom.

  Suddenly the room got brighter as the sun broke free of the clouds. Audra photographed the items on the dresser. She didn’t touch the cell phone. Instead, she rifled through the wallet and found credit and bankcards, Air Miles, $25. She slipped out Todd Dory’s driver’s license, staring at the face in the photo. He sported a burr haircut, 5 o’clock shadow, stern expression, and a scorpion tattoo on his neck.

  Audra photographed the license and tucked it into the wallet. She stopped for a moment and put a palm over the respirator. She wanted to take it off her face. It almost felt like breathing steam and she could feel moisture gathering in her nostrils.

  She went back to work, searching through the dresser drawers, pushing aside socks, underwear and T-shirts. In the second one down, she found a contact lens case tucked in the back. She brought it out and opened it. Inside were two theatrical lenses, the kind used on Halloween to make the eyes look scary. They were solid white with holes punched in the middle for the user to see through.

  Todd Dory didn’t seem the type to go out trick-or-treating, so what other reason would he have them? To hide the real color of his eyes in the commission of a crime? Audra decided to relay the info to the GIS unit. It might provide them a clue to help narrow their focus in any of their ongoing investigations.

  Audra photographed the lenses, closed the case, and set it on top of the dresser. When she reached the bottom drawer, she found a wad of cash held together by a rubber band, three blister packs of Erimin-5, dozens of cocaine dime bags, and two pieces of hash rolled into ropes that reminded Audra of the licorice cigars she used to buy as a child.

  She focused her camera on the items and took several pictures. Then she picked up the cash, removed the rubber band, and began counting. $4000 in $20s and $50s.

  Folding the money in half, she stretched the rubber band over it and called out to Jim and Harvey, “Hey, guys.”

  Seconds later, Jim poked his head into the room. “What’s up, Lieutenant.”

  Audra held up the wad of cash for him to see. “Found a stash.”

  Jim came in and walked over to the dresser, looking into the open drawer. “Drugs, money, and death.”

  “Same thing every time.” Audra put the wad back where she found it.

  “You think rival gang members had something to do with this?”

  “Maybe,” Audra said. “Dory might’ve encroached on a competitor’s turf. He’s obviously been dealing.”

  “The axe though? That’s pretty personal. Up until now, we’ve only been seeing drug-involved shootings.”

  Audra spread her hands. “I know. It might be a tactic to scare off rivals. Look at Mexico. But we might not even be in the ballpark either. People are unpredictable, but no one acts without motivation. The reason could be more complex than it appears. Never assume anything.”

  She opened the closet door. Shirts, sweats and pants hung from metal hangers. Two pairs of sneakers rested on the floor. Beside her, lights flashed from Jim’s camera as he captured the contents of the dresser drawer.

  Audra pulled the comforter back, then moved to the head of the bed to check under the pillows. Nothing under the first one. Under the second she found a SIG P226 with a magazine fully engaged. It was the same model as her own service pistol and no way Dory had purchased it legally. Probably a black market weapon or stolen from a legal gun owner. Nearly half of the guns confiscated in the province were stolen, only a small percentage was smuggled in.

  “I’m not surprised to find this,” she said, snapping off a few photos.

  “Whoa.” Jim stepped over, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “He never got to use it.”

  “Didn’t get a chance to, I bet.” Audra set her notebook on the mattress, carefully picked up the pistol by the grips, and drew the slide back just enough to see the shiny side of a nickel-plated casing in the chamber. “It’s charged.”

  “I’ll get a box,” Jim said, heading for the doorway.

  He came back moments later with a firearms evidence box and a handful of clear bags. Opening the box, he set it on the mattress along with two nylon tie-downs to hold the pistol inside. Audra picked up her notebook again and stepped into a narrow bathroom. It needed a desperate cleaning with Comet and warm water, maybe even a power steamer. Dirty laundry was piled on the floor. Dried-up toothpaste spit covered the end of the sink faucet.

  Audra noted the lifted toilet seat, another latched window. She walked to the shower stall and looked at the towel hanging over the door. Dry, with no bloodstains. She opened the door. The shower floor was dry too.

  She carefully picked through the dirty clothes on the floor. Finding nothing of value, she took out a small LED flashlight from a pouch fastened to her belt and directed the beam down the sink drain. Jim and Harvey would check the drain and trap, but Audra doubted the killer had come into the bathroom. The other rooms seemed undisturbed and apart from the murder scene in the kitchen.

  A toilet flushed upstairs and she could hear the water gurgling through a pipe somewhere in the wall. Neighbors. Would any of them have information? Would they even be cooperative? Soon, they’d all be getting a knock at their doors.

  Audra returned to the bedroom. Jim had the SIG strapped in the box and its magazine secured in a separate evidence bag.

  “Magazine was a fifteen-rounder,” he said. “Had fourteen rounds in it, plus the one in the chamber.”

  Audra shook her head. “Illegal gun and an illegal mag.”

  “Want to check under the mattress now?”

  “Yes.”

  Audra moved the comforter and pillows out of the way, then she and Jim hefted the mattress. Under it laid a single box of ammo. Audra shot a photograph.

  “Golden Sabers,” she said. “Twenty-five rounds.” She picked up the box and opened it, counting the bullets in the tray. “Ten left.”

  Jim nodded. “Math is right.”

  Audra closed up the box and handed it to him to process. She moved to a corner of the room, opened her notebook to a blank page, and began to sketch out the floor plan of the apartment.

  As she drew the stick figure of the victim, she felt her cell phone vibrate against her hi
p. She plucked it from the case attached to her belt and held it up to read the display. She didn’t recognize the number, so she let the call go to voice mail. Moments later, a chime notified her a message had been left.

  Audra continued her sketch until she finished. Then she took out the cell phone again and listened to the voice mail.

  The woman on the message introduced herself as Barbara Lowe, Vice-Principal of Gorsebrook Junior High, and as she explained the reason for her call, Audra felt a lump of worry take shape in her chest.

  “I’m calling to see why your daughter, Daphne, has missed school the past two days? No one informed us that she wouldn’t be attending. We trust this was an oversight on you or a guardian since Daphne has an exemplary attendance record. Please call us to let us know why and if she’s going to miss any more time. We hope all is well. Thank you and have a nice day.”

  Frowning, Audra pressed the end button on her cell phone. That couldn’t be right. She had dropped Daphne off at school both days, just like she did every morning on her way to work. The school must be mistaken.

  Audra looked up and caught Jim staring at her.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Think so,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She went into the kitchen and noticed Harvey had pulled out a waste bin from under the sink. With diligent care he set out paper trash and food scraps on a sheet of polythene he’d put down on the floor. Audra slipped the Tyvek booties off her shoes, turned them inside out, and placed them on the floor by the doorway. Then she continued outside to the rear parking lot, where she pulled the mask off her face, thankful to breath in a lungful of fresher air.

  Doctor Richard Coulter, the medical examiner, was on the scene talking to Malone. He wore coveralls and gloves. A black bag hung from his hand. His face seemed exhausted and sad. Dark crescents inked the skin under his eyes and his salt-and-pepper hair looked a shade lighter than it had a week ago.

  Audra could feel the battle inside him. The Lawrence Sodero fiasco had taken its toll. Details of that investigation had been kept from the media, not only to protect damaging the case and the emotions of the grieving families involved, but also the reputation and credibility of the medical examiner’s office.

  Even though no one blamed him, Coulter knew all of his colleagues understood what had happened—he’d hired the crazy man who affected so many innocent lives. The embarrassment had to be killing him.

  Next to him stood his new assistant, Eric Lefevre. He was thirtyish and had a linebacker’s build like Jim—blocky shoulders, thick neck and chest, but shorter and softer with a moon-pie face and watchful eyes.

  Audra walked over to the picket fence on the edge of the parking lot and checked her watch: 12:47. Still lunch break at Gorsebrook, so Daphne might have her cell phone turned on, if she was there.

  Audra dialed her number. The call went directly to Daphne’s funny Clint Eastwood voice mail. “Go ahead,” it said, “make my day. Leave a message.”

  At the beep, Audra said, “Hi, honey. I just got a call from your school. They told me you haven’t been there for the past two days. Is this a mistake? Please let me know so I can straighten this out. Love you. Bye.”

  When she hung up, she waved to Coulter who had started toward the scene.

  He lifted a hand in reply, gave a crack of a smile. “Morning, Lieutenant.”

  “Morning,” she called over.

  Coulter and Eric stopped outside the doorway and donned anti-putrefaction masks before disappearing inside. Audra headed toward the scene again when she felt her cell phone go off. It was Daphne’s number.

  “Are you at school?” Audra asked without preface.

  Seconds passed before Daphne said, “No.”

  Audra squeezed her eyes shut. “So where are you?”

  “At the park.”

  “Which one?”

  “Point Pleasant.”

  “Who’s there with you?”

  “Nobody.”

  “You’re at the park by yourself?” Audra puzzled.

  “Yes.”

  “Why aren’t you in school?”

  A longer pause. In the silence, Audra imagined the worst—her daughter involved in drugs or alcohol or being bullied—and it left a chill on her skin.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Daphne’s voice sounded small and shamed.

  “Don’t be sorry. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did something happen at school?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you playing hooky?”

  “I hate school. It’s boring.”

  Audra struggled to understand. She knew it was something more than that. Daphne had always been a paragon of common sense. She never complained about school before. She always finished her homework assignments, always had her nose buried in a book.

  Maybe it was her age, Audra reasoned, a phase of life. At fourteen, Daphne had entered that troublesome stage of adolescence, where many teenagers break the shackles of parental control, are prone to stunning mood swings, and behave in foolish, impulsive and dangerous ways without considering the consequences.

  “Honey, stop and think about what you’re doing,” Audra said. “You’re a smart girl. Education is important and summer vacation is only two weeks away. Why would you risk failing now?”

  “I know. Are you mad?”

  “No, I’m not mad.” Audra softened her tone. “I’m worried about you.”

  Again, Daphne became quiet on the other end of the line. Audra waited a moment, then asked, “Do you have your house key?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then get your butt home. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”

  Daphne sniffled. “Okay.”

  “Call me the second you get through the door and use the home phone.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “We’ll talk about this later tonight.”

  Audra pressed the end button with a sigh. She tried to recall any change in Daphne’s behavior lately, any emotional ups or downs. Her daughter had been a little quieter than usual, that was it. But then again, Audra hadn’t been home enough to really notice and she cursed herself for it.

  Heart heavy, she headed back to the kitchen entrance. Inside, she found Coulter standing near the body, a digital thermo-hygrometer held up in his hand to measure the ambient temperature and humidity. When the device displayed its results, he recorded them in his notebook. Eric stood next to him, photographing the severed ear.

  “Ever encounter anything like this, Doctor?” Audra asked from the doorway.

  Coulter gave a small shake of his head. “No, it’s rare. And you don’t usually find the weapon in situ in the wound like this.”

  “Think the axe will be hard to remove?”

  “Shouldn’t be. I’ll try levering it out with a bar. I’m wondering what condition the skull is in.”

  “That axe is a valuable piece of evidence for us,” Harvey chimed in.

  “I know,” Coulter said. “I’ll be careful with it.”

  Audra picked her booties from the floor, turned them outside in, and pulled them on again. As she walked into the kitchen, Coulter took out a probe thermometer from his black bag. He lifted Dory’s blood-soaked T-shirt to expose the abdomen.

  “Weakly developed posterior hypostasis is present,” he said, referring to the reddish purple discoloration in the skin along the edge of the back where stagnant blood had settled. “It would be more pronounced if the body hadn’t lost such a significant amount of blood.”

  He pressed the end of his finger into the darkened skin, held it there for several seconds, then removed it. “No blanching,” he said, as if to himself. “Hypostasis is fixed.”

  Audra watched as Coulter pierced the abdomen with the probe of the thermometer and inserted it deep into the liver. After a moment, he pulled it back out and recorded the core temperature reading in his notebook.

  “Do we know if any windows and doo
rs were open prior to the body being discovered?” he asked no one in particular.

  “All windows were closed,” Audra offered. “As well as the front door. No one has managed to get a statement from our witness yet, so we don’t know about the back door. We’ll know shortly.”

  “Okay. For now I’ll assume it was closed.”

  Jim appeared with the firearms box and several bags containing the other items found in the bedroom. The cell phone was secured separately inside a Faraday bag. He carried everything to his field case and stowed it inside.

  Coulter gingerly rolled the dead body onto its left side, while Eric kept his fingers just below the axe in case it fell out of the skull. It didn’t budge.

  “There’s blanching across the backs of the hands and forearms,” Coulter said. “Wrists are tethered to the chair.”

  Audra stepped in for a closer look and saw white zip ties lashed tightly around Dory’s wrists and the spindles in the back of the chair. His right arm bore a black and gray sleeve tattoo—spider web on the elbow, a skull sitting in a bed of barbed wire with a snake coiling in one eye socket and out the other. An indistinguishable design worked off that and rose up the arm beneath the blood and T-shirt sleeve.

  The kitchen walls lit up with flashes as Audra, Jim and Eric took close-up photographs of the zip ties. Harvey walked over with a wire cutter and two evidence bags. He snipped each tie opposite the locking device.

  As he bagged and tagged them, Jim tried to pull the chair away from the body but Dory’s arms remained frozen in place around the back.

  Coulter held up a hand. “Hold on.” He tried flexing the right arm. No give. He moved to the legs, checking for stiffness in the joints. “Rigor is fully established.”

  He directed Jim to pull on the bottom of the chair and slide it out from between the arms. Carefully, Jim did that and managed to work the chair free. He gave it to Harvey to examine.

  Coulter placed paper bags over Dory’s hands and secured them in place with new elastic bands. Then he and Eric rolled the body over to its back again.