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When they arrived at the small, neighborhood parkette in Brentwood Park, it was almost midnight.
Jessie squinted as her eyes tried to adjust to countless flashing lights cutting through the darkness. They got out of the car and walked past the police tape, where Officer Sturgil was waiting for them. On the ground near a bench behind him, a crime scene team was hard at work gathering evidence.
“I didn’t think you’d still be on duty,” Ryan said, surprised.
“I wasn’t,” Sturgil admitted, “but one of my buddies who is told me about the nature of the scene, and it sounded awfully familiar, so I felt a responsibility to come down.”
“Well, we appreciate it,” Jessie said. “It always helps to work with someone who’s already well-versed in the details of the case. What made you think they were connected?”
“Both victims are from this neighborhood,” Sturgil said. “They only live a few blocks apart. Same age range too. Ava Martell was thirty-four. This victim, Gabriella Silva, is thirty-six. Of course the timing of the killings, on consecutive nights, is suspicious. And lastly, there’s the manner of death. Silva was also bashed in the head multiple times, before she had plastic wrap tied around her head. Although the medical examiner’s initial view is that in this case, the victim died before the wrapping occurred.”
“That’s pretty compelling,” Ryan said. “Anything else jump out at you?”
“Once I got here, I found out that nothing had been stolen,” Sturgil said. “She still had her phone and purse, which had her car keys and several credit cards, though like last time, no cash. Like with Martell, the phone was smashed to bits. Her ID says she lives about six blocks from here, but her car is parked right up the street. And there was something else.”
“What’s that?” Jessie wondered.
“Just that the murder weapon doesn’t seem to match the prior killing,” Sturgil told them. “The size and shape of the—indentations—in her skull are different.”
“You want to take a look?” Ryan asked Jessie.
She nodded and walked over to the body. The crime scene crew, who were placing pieces of debris in evidence bags and dusting the parkette bench for prints, stopped what they were doing and stepped aside.
“We think it happened pretty late,” Sturgil said. “One officer spoke to a resident who said her teenage kid was hanging out here with friends until almost 10 p.m. There was obviously nobody here when they left. A guy walking his dog found her around eleven.”
Jessie looked down at Gabriella Silva. She was face-down on the cement path by the bench. The back of her skull was basically flat where it had been smashed multiple times. Unlike with Ava Martell, her top appeared to be ripped, though not to the point of coming off. Her skirt seemed untouched.
To Jessie, it appeared that either Silva had either been grabbed as she tried to get away or that the killer had clumsily tried to make the murder look like a sexual assault before giving up. In addition, the plastic wrapping around Silva’s head seemed to have been applied in a more rushed, sloppier manner than with Martell.
And Sturgill was right about the murder weapon. Unlike the blows to Ava Martell's head, which were mostly sharp gashes, these were blunter, as if the weapon used was flatter. She stepped back and looked around the parkette.
“No sign of a murder weapon?” she asked.
“Not so far,” Sturgil told her.
Jessie nodded and stepped back away from the crowd. Something had caught her eye about twenty feet away, near where a small playground stood. The exterior of the area was ringed with a series of rocks, broken up by several paths leading to the play structure. Near the closest path entrance, there was an empty space, where a rock seemed to be missing.
She walked over, letting her instinct guide her, and looked at the rocks on either side of the gap. There were all similar, mostly flat with some rough protrusions. Each was likely in the ten to fifteen pound range, too large to be picked up by little children but small enough not to be a serious tripping hazard. Ryan and Sturgil joined her and stared at the same empty space, neither of them speaking.
“I think we know our murder weapon,” Jessie said quietly. “We should have the M.E. take samples from one of these rocks and see if any debris in the victim’s skull matches.”
“Will do,” Sturgil said.
“I guess that explains why it’s missing,” Ryan said. “Too risky to put it back and hope no one noticed blood or hair on the rock.”
“Or possible DNA,” Jessie added. “Some skin material was bound to be left on that rock with all the force used for those blows. It’s weird.”
“What is?” Officer Sturgil asked.
“This seems to be the work of a serial killer, but they didn’t bring a murder weapon to the second murder,” she said. “They had to use a rock they found at the location.”
“Maybe they already knew about the rocks being here,” Ryan suggested.
“That’s possible,” Jessie conceded, “but it seems like a risk to hope they could grab the rock and use it without Silva getting away. And yet, the killer brought the plastic wrap with them, just like with Ava Martell. And there’s more.”
“What?” Sturgil wanted to know.
“Some of the clothes are ripped, almost like a half-hearted attempt to make this look like a sexual assault before they gave up on the idea. Why? And for that matter, why was Gabriella Silva here in a residential parkette so late in the first place? Look at her outfit. It’s more appropriate for a party or a date than a late-night stroll in a neighborhood park. In fact, we know she probably drove here considering the close proximity of her car. So was she lured here? Did a date end up here before somehow going wrong? None of it makes sense.”
