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Chapter 32

Sherri looked up as the front door of the Sheriff’s Office opened, revealing Dr. Prescott and his student.

Oh God, that’s just what I need this morning, thought Sherri.

“Good morning, Ma’am. I was wondering if you had those crime statistics reports for me?”

“Yes, Dr. Prescott. Just a minute.” She walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out the file, which she unceremoniously dropped on her desk in front of him.

“Ah, splendid. Thank you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble?”

“Not at all,” grumbled Sherri. She sincerely hoped he would take his damn file and leave.

“Is the Sheriff in? I have a few more questions for him this morning.”

“He’s rather busy right now. I can have him call you when he’s free.”

At that moment the inner office door opened and Mathies stepped out.

“Sherri, have you heard from—?” Mathies stopped and stared at Prescott, a strange look crossing his face.

“Charlie? Not yet, but I’ll—.”

“Keep trying,” snapped Mathies, briefly returning his attention to Sherri who was staring at him, open-mouthed.

“Yes, sir.” Sherri sat down at her desk and reached for the phone, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“Well, Dr. Prescott,” said Mathies, turning towards him, “I trust Sherri has provided you with the information you requested. Was there anything else?”

“Ah, yes, as a matter of fact. I have just a few more questions for you, that is, if you have the time...”

“I suppose. Just make it quick. Sherri, please hold all my calls except from Patrick Campbell.” Mathies turned and walked into his office. Prescott turned to his student.

“Mr. Crow, please wait here.” Crow nodded, and Prescott followed Mathies into his office, shutting the door behind him.

Sherri sat at her desk, her cheeks burning. Soon she noticed that Crow was still standing, staring at her. After a moment, he walked to the water cooler and filled two cups. He brought her one of the cups, which she accepted.

“Thank you, Mr. Crow.”

He nodded, walked over to an empty chair, and sat down, withdrawing a book from his pocket. He opened it and leaned back in the chair. Sherri watched him read for a few minutes, unsure of what to say to this quiet young man. Finally, she picked up the phone. Time to get back to work.



Mathies sat down at his desk and sighed. His face was drawn and grey, with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. He stared silently at Prescott for a few moments before speaking.

“I’m going to owe Sherri another apology this morning,” he said with a note of self-loathing in his voice.

“Indeed.”

“Alright, Dr. Prescott, what do you need to know?”

“I am sorry you missed our meeting last night, Sheriff Mathies. I do understand how difficult it is to meet like this, but I was hoping you would have some more information on the case at this point.”

Mathies picked up the toxicology report and handed it to Prescott.

“Just this. I forgot to have Dr. Crosslin explain it to me last night. I can’t make heads or tails of it, but maybe you can.”

Prescott opened the file and read silently for several moments.

“Interesting. The toxicological analysis identified two types of barbiturates in the victims: thiopental and pentobarbital. However, only the parents had pentobarbital in their systems, in addition to trace amounts of the thiopental.”

“Which means what?”

“The thiopental is an ultra-fast-acting barbiturate. It is commonly used as an anesthetic for minor surgery where the patient needs to be completely unconscious. Its’ effects are almost immediate, but it has a very short half-life, and only lasts about 20 minutes. The pentobarbital is a short-acting barbiturate which lasts about 4 hours. It suggests that, in the case of the parents, the thiopental may have been used to knock them out, but they were alive long enough for it to metabolize, and the pentobarbital was used to keep them subdued afterwards.”

“But the children only had thiopental in their systems?”

“Correct. It suggests that the children were killed very soon after being rendered unconscious.”

“So why take the children out quickly and keep the parents alive longer? Unless...” A look of horror crossed Mathies’ face.

“Unless the parents were subdued first and killed last, so they would witness the children being killed.”

“We’re dealing with a madman,” whispered Mathies, his face turning an even paler shade of sickly grey.

“No,” said Prescott. “We are dealing with a very cold, very deliberate killer. This was not some random act of violence. This was planned, and this was personal.”

“My God,” said Mathies. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Mathies saw Prescott slip the report back on his desk before the door opened and Sherri stuck her head in.

“Rick? Patrick Campbell is on the phone. You said...”

“Yes, it’s OK, Sherri. Thank you.” She nodded and withdrew. Mathies picked up the phone.

“Pat? Did you find her?” His face fell at the response. “No, I understand. You’ll keep looking. What about the—? Tomorrow?!? That’s the best they can do? No, I...OK. Thanks, Pat.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair. It was several moments before he could look up.

“Is there anything else, Dr. Prescott?” he asked wearily.

“I suggest you contact the local hospitals and veterinary services, since those are the facilities that would most likely have the drugs mentioned in the report.”

“I’ll have my deputy work on that as soon as he gets back. I have other concerns at the moment.”

“Other concerns? Another case?”

“Yes. We had another group of murders last night, Dr. Prescott. That...is why I missed our meeting.”

“The same killer?”

“No, I believe it’s a copycat. There are several inconsistencies with the other case.”

“Such as?”

“The lack of symbols on the victims, for one thing. We kept that out of the papers.”

“Do you have the autopsy report? May I see it?”

Mathies stared at Prescott, a creeping suspicion emerging in his mind. He shook his head to throw off the thought.

“Here.” He handed the folder containing the report across the desk. Prescott opened the folder and quickly scanned it.

“These differences. They seem almost...deliberate.” Mathies felt a chill go down his spine.

“I had the same thought when I read the report,” admitted Mathies. “But I know they’re not from the same person.”

Prescott looked at him sharply.

“What do you mean?”

Mathies couldn’t respond.

“Sheriff Mathies, is there something else going on here? Mr. Glinn’s profiling program suggested that the killer would be very likely to perpetrate other crimes in order to distract the officers in charge of the case. These new murders certainly fit.”

“Did...did it mention what kind of crimes?”

“No. Why? Has something happened?” Prescott was looking at him with an expression of intense curiosity.

Mathies couldn’t take it any longer. He had to tell someone, and Prescott already seemed to know that something was terribly amiss. He stared at the floor, unable to meet Prescott’s piercing gaze.

“He has my daughter,” said Mathies in a low voice.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The killer. He has her.”

Prescott stared at him, an expression of shock flitting across his face before he regained his normal placid expression.

“How do you know?” he asked, lowering his voice as well.

“He called me from her cell phone. I thought it was...” He couldn’t finish.

“What precisely did he say?”

Mathies thought back, trying to recall as much as he could about that horrible conversation.

“He said she was tied up somewhere...in the dark, without food or water. He had left her there some time before he called. He wanted me to concentrate on finding her instead of the Zoller case. He said he had more ‘fun’ planned. When I ...told him I couldn’t drop the Zoller case he said I wasn’t the father I’d been made out to be. He also denied the Jenkins’ murders...” Mathies expression darkened. “But he was ‘flattered’ that he had ‘inspired’ someone else to kill.” Mathies looked up at Prescott and could see that he was losing some of his cool detachment.

“Anything else? Anything that might suggest where your daughter was being kept, or how he knew where to find her?” asked Prescott.

“He said he was giving her a ...history lesson.” Mathies eyes widened. “Maybe I should have Pat check...”

“Historical sites? Possibly.”

“He said he wouldn’t stop me from finding her, but...”

“He didn’t give you much chance of doing so. Sheriff, I think this is one of the rare cases where you need to do what the killer asked.”

“What do you mean? Drop the other case? But—?”

“Appear to do what the killer asked. Announce that she is missing. Involve others in the search publicly. In the mean time, allow us to continue out investigation. You will of course play a role, but obliquely. We will on occasion need to gain access that only you can provide. While you are, ah, introducing us and our ‘project’, you will be in a position to conduct your own investigation. I suggest the hospital would be a good place to start, where we may meet the survivor and you may question the staff concerning the drugs found in the victims and access to those drugs. I’m sure you know of at least one person whom you can trust to provide information.”

“Yes, but...we won’t draw the attention of the killer? We’ll appear to be working together, won’t we?”

“Not if you make it very clear how little you think of our project but that you are being pressured to assist us.”

“I don’t see how this will help find—”

“If we find the killer, we will find your daughter, and we will prevent his ‘fun’ that he has planned. Now, are we in agreement?”

“Yes,” said Mathies with a sinking feeling. “We are in agreement.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Prescott rose and walked to the door. He opened it and turned to Mathies.

“Thank you for the information, Sheriff. You’ve been most helpful.”

He motioned to Crow and walked towards the front door. Crow stood, nodded to Sherri and followed.



When they were back in the truck, Pendergast turned to Tigg.

“Did you—?”

“Every word,” she said flatly.

“And your opinion?”

“I think the same person killed all three families: mine, the Zollers, and the Jenkins’.”

“We are in agreement. What else?”

“The killer has no intention of letting the Sheriff find his daughter. He is just keeping him distracted until the next killing.”

“Also agreed. Anything else?”

“The killer knows the Sheriff’s daughter, or at least has heard her speak of him. He told the Sheriff that he’s ‘not the father he’s been made out to be’. Rather—.” She paused, listening. “The Sheriff is calling someone...telling him to check local historical sites. It seems he’s decided to listen to you. He’s also telling this person to announce her disappearance.”

“Excellent. The killer will believe he’s established sufficient control over the Sheriff.”

“You don’t think this will cause him to harm the Sheriff’s daughter?”

“No. He is confident she won’t be found. But I suspect that it is a moot point. I believe it’s likely she’s no longer alive.” Pendergast watched Tigg’s expression, but she showed no trace of emotion.

“You’re probably right. I doubt he would chance a potential witness.”

Pendergast nodded.

“What now?”

“We have an hour before we’re to meet the Sheriff, and I believe we have time for one more interview.”

“The last person on my list or Mrs. Willamette?”

“The last person on your list.”

“You’re going to need my help for this one, then.”

Pendergast gave her a curious look.

“You’re certain you’re prepared for such an interview?”

“Yes. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” Now.

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