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“Fuck,” he said. “They’re cleaning up the loose ends. And if they’re using Vaughn’s weapons then he’s just another tool to them.”
He pulled out his phone, and I knew without asking he was calling Vaughn. Jack swore again when it went to voicemail, and he left Vaughn a message that was short and to the point about his safety.
“They cornered him in here,” I said. “There were at least a couple of people waiting at the back of the house if the footprints are anything to go by, so they had him trapped inside.”
Jack closed his eyes and I knew he was doing what he was best at—seeing the scene as it had been—trying to dig his way inside the killer’s mind.
“We’ll see if anyone heard the shots when we do a door to door, but the timing of this is perfect. Hardly anyone in this neighborhood is home on a Sunday morning.”
I followed Jack back to the front of the house and into the kitchen, and faced the evidence of Doc Randall’s last morning alive.
“Yeah, that makes more sense,” Jack said, taking in the half-eaten cereal and newspaper.
“You want to fill me in?” I asked as he continued to carry on a conversation with himself. “I can’t read your mind as well as you read mind.”
“That’s always good to know. They sent one person to do the job. Could be the same person who did George, but it could’ve just as easily have been someone different. Different styles will throw us off even further, right? This guy shot an old man three times point blank in the chest. He was grandstanding, maybe toying with the Doc a little. No head shot since there’s no brain matter anywhere, but it was still overkill. Whoever they sent was still someone expendable just in case he was seen. It’s dicey putting three bullet holes into someone during daylight hours in a residential neighborhood, but they knew the area. They knew everyone would be at church. He wouldn’t have parked in the driveway, but it would’ve been somewhere close by.”
Jack looked out the front window to take in the view. “The bank parking lot would be the closest, and there’s that area in back that’s hidden by the dumpster. It’s what? A five-minute walk?”
“If that,” I said.
“So he knocks on the door, interrupting Doc Randall at his breakfast, but he’s welcomed inside. The killer has orders to get the job done quickly. He’s on a deadline. But what does he do after he kills Doc Randall? That’s what bothers me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t leave the body and walk away. He calls for help and they take the body with them. Why?”
“Maybe Doc Randall knew something. Maybe he was still alive enough to tell them something. But he was bleeding pretty badly, so he wouldn’t have lasted long. The blood trail leads all the way to the back door.”
“Or maybe the guy was sent to question Doc Randall first and things got out of hand. Maybe he called in the others because he didn’t know what else to do. Maybe it was his first kill and he panicked.”
We followed the blood trail down the hallway and back into the living room where we came in.
“The blood trail stops here,” Jack said. “They wrapped him up in something to get him out of the house. Probably trash bags from the kitchen. We’ll check the alley for tire treads and see if they match Oglesby’s crime scene.”
“There’s one problem with all that,” I said. “The killer would be covered in blood if he moved the body here before they wrapped it. There’d be no way around it. How’s he supposed to get back to his car? Surely someone passing by on the street would notice.”
“This whole thing stinks of an amateur. No planning involved on his part once he got here. He left a mess behind, and maybe he left some fingerprints as well. If it were me I’d hand the keys of my car over to someone else. I’d wrap myself in the same plastic they put the body in and catch a ride with whoever came to bail me out. Still, though, there’s going to be blood in that car.”
“The blood has clotted and started to separate,” I said, “So the crime scene is only a few hours old.”
“That would normally be helpful information. But we’re lacking a body.”
“It might be for the best,” I said. “I’m out of room in my freezer.”
Jack shook his head at me in disbelief, but I just shrugged. I spoke the truth, and finding Doc Randall’s body meant we’d have to figure out some other way to keep him on ice, and it wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone involved.
“I’ve got to call this in,” Jack said. “And then I have to go ask the mayor for his alibi. The fun never ends.”
“Since there’s no body, I’m guessing I’ll just be in the way here,” I said, unlocking the door and heading out into the fresh air. Jack followed behind me. “I’ll walk back to the funeral home. I’m supposed to meet Reverend Thomas and Mr. Oglesby about Daniel’s interment. Let me know if you need anything else from me.”
“Let me have a patrol car take you,” Jack said.
I peeled off my gloves and stuck them in my pocket. “It’s only a couple of blocks. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll check in with you once I get a break.” He kissed me once, and I stood there a little dazed before I shook myself out of it and walked back around to the front of the house.
I waved to Colburn as he pulled in behind Jack’s cruiser, and thought about the best place to hide Doc Randall’s body. The river would be an obvious choice. But they’d wait until dark to dump him. So it was being held somewhere. Probably the same place they’d tortured Daniel Oglesby. Unfortunately, the choices were unlimited at this point.
