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Chapter 2

Several hours later, Mathies was making his final rounds before releasing the scene. A lot had been accomplished in that time. Lights had been set up, and several state troopers had joined with Mathies’ own men in the search. Mathies had made it clear that Quinn was in charge, and he had made sure the house and surrounding property had been thoroughly searched and documented.

Meanwhile, Tolliver had quickly realized he was in over his head and had contacted the medical examiner who worked in the state capital, 70 miles away. Dr. Nancy Crosslin had arrived on the scene two hours later, and proved to be almost the polar opposite of Tolliver. She had calmly directed Jackie and her own two assistants on the further documentation and removal of the bodies. Her professionalism impressed Mathies, but he could see that even she was rattled by the gruesome scene.

Quinn approached from the front of the house, where he had been sealing the evidence lockers for their trip to the state crime lab. To Mathies, he appeared to have aged 20 years since that afternoon.

“Everything’s ready to go”, said Quinn.

“Not exactly the ‘semi-retirement’ type of scene you were looking forward to, was it?”

Quinn sighed. “You know, I thought I had seen everything while I was with the Unit in New York. But this... Anyway, what’s the news from the front gate? Press? Rubberneckers?”

“A little of both. Ed has been doing a pretty good job at keeping the press at bay. Luckily our radio silence has prevented the details from getting out. Our guys know better than to talk about it. None of our cell phones work out here, so that’s one less source of a leak. Ed’s cell works out by the front gate, and he’s is manning communications with the office. They’re keeping a tight lid on it as well. We don’t want a panic.”

Mathies radio crackled. Speak of the devil, he thought.

“Rick, Dr. Crosslin called. She said she is getting started right away. She fully understands the need for urgency.”

“Tell her if she needs anything to let us know. We’re wrapping it up here now.”



Mathies and Quinn walked out to their cars. Mathies handed the paperwork over to the state trooper in charge of guarding the site. Quinn turned to him. “I’m going to go catch a few winks. See you tomorrow, er, later this morning.” He got into his car and headed down the long driveway back to the front gate.

The Zoller farm was 1500 acres of fields, half for grazing cattle, the rest for hay and corn. The house was set far back on the property, in front of the woods that bordered on a state forest. There probably wasn’t a more isolated house in the entire town.

A perfect place for a murderer to do his work, thought Mathies. No chance of interruption. Was that why he had chosen this family, or was there something more?



The county sheriff’s office was situated in scenic downtown Winstead, on Water Street, between the county courthouse and the hospital. The Methodist church was 1 block away, and two days ago Mathies has watched the funeral procession drive past his office window on the way to Winstead Hills Cemetery. He had stationed several officers at the cemetery to search the crowds for outsiders, but the press had gotten wind of the funeral, and that tactic quickly became a lost cause.

Vultures, thought Mathies. Exposing a tragedy like this for all the world to see. All for the sake of their precious headlines and film footage to show over and over on CNN.

The murder case was nearly a week old, and Mathies had nothing. He and his deputies had interviewed neighbors, friends, relatives, co-workers, and no one knew anything that could explain how almost an entire family could be slaughtered at their quiet homestead. All agreed that the Zollers were a wonderful, close-knit, and loving family, and their murders were a terrible tragedy. Sad, but of little practical value for his investigation. In fact, it just made the whole case all that more frustrating.

Mathies’ dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his office door. The office manager, Sherri Watson, opened the door and stuck her head in.

“Dr. Crosslin is here to see you, Sheriff.”

“Send her in.”

Dr. Nancy Crosslin stepped through the open door into the office. She was a short, intense woman with dark brown eyes and black hair, prematurely going to grey. Mathies wondered if perhaps her chosen profession had something to do with it.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff Mathies.”

“Good afternoon, Dr. Crosslin. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you. I have the final autopsy reports for your case, as well as the preliminary toxicology reports and DNA analyses. I wanted to discuss these with you in person.”

“What can you tell me about these murders?”

“The cause of death for all six individuals was exsanguination from a severed carotid artery. The cuts were made with an extremely sharp, non-serrated blade. All other injuries were made post-mortem, and after nearly all of the blood had been drained from the body." She paused.

“That would explain the lack of blood in the area. They were killed, drained, and brought to the site where the bodies were found. I suspect they were killed in a place where is would have been easy to drain and dispose of the blood, such as a bathtub.”

Mathies remembered how the first floor bathroom in the Zoller house had reeked of bleach. Now he knew why...

“But how could the killer get six different people into the bathroom to kill them, without any signs of a struggle?”

“The preliminary tox reports indicate the presence of barbiturates.”

“So the killer drugged them all first, and then went about his business.”

“Right. Afterwards, he would have brought the bodies out to the yard, uh, arranged them, and finished the mutilations.”

Jesus, thought Mathies. “What about the symbols on the victims?”

“Applied with blood, which appears to be a mixture of the victims.”

“Which ones? All of them?”

“Difficult to tell. DNA results showed a mixture, with a maximum of four alleles at each locus. Since they were all related, parents and children, they would have shared alleles. It very well could be a mix of all, or just the parents.”

“Any idea what they mean?”

“That’s not really my area, but I sent detailed photos to the crime lab. They haven’t been able to identify them.”

Mathies sighed. Another knock on the door, and Sherri stuck her head in the office again. “Charlie’s back from the crime lab.”

“Great, send him in.”

Quinn walked through the door to the office with a very annoyed look on his face.

“Charlie, any luck on the trace evidence?”

“No. It looks like our perp cleaned up after himself.” Quinn looked at Dr. Crosslin. “Ah, hello Nancy, nice to see you again.”

“Hello Charlie.”

Mathies noticed that Dr. Crosslin was blushing slightly. Hmmmm, thought Mathies, now that’s an interesting pairing.

After a short uncomfortable silence, Mathies spoke. “So, he knows something about forensics.”

Charlie snorted. “With all the crime shows on TV today, everyone knows something about forensics. Or think that they do.”

Mathies thought a moment. “You’re telling me that there’s absolutely nothing to tie someone to this crime?”

“Well, maybe when Mark Zoller is able to talk he’ll be able to shed some light on this case. How is he doing, anyway?”

“He’s still in Good Samaritan, in the psych wing. He’s under sedation, and his doctor says he’s suffering from ‘Severe Post-Traumatic Stress’.”

“Gee, ya think?” said Quinn sarcastically.

Dr. Crosslin rose from her seat. “If we find out anything new, I’ll be sure to contact you.”

Mathies rose walked her to the door. “Thank you for your help Doctor. Anything you can find would be greatly appreciated.”

“I do what I can. Goodbye Sheriff Mathies.” She turned to Quinn. “Goodbye Charlie. Don’t be a stranger.”

Mathies shut the door behind her and looked at Quinn. Quinn stared back impassively.

“This case is going to have the town in an uproar if any of this gets out or if we don’t do something soon. Any ideas?”

“Well, you could try a forensic profiler?”

“What, from the FBI? How long would that take? And would they even take the case? This doesn’t exactly qualify as serial murder.”

“It was a suggestion. I’m going to go read through the reports again. Maybe I’ll get lucky this time.”

After Quinn left, Mathies sat down at his desk and closed his eyes. Forensic profiling. Figure out what makes this guy tick. The FBI will get involved, and they have been known to make a bad situation worse.

Suddenly, Mathies remembered that there was an alternative. He opened his desk drawer and rummaged around until he found a business card. The card was plain, with small dark grey type:

Effective Engineering Solutions
Little West 12th Street
Greenwich Village, New York
(212) 354-4377

He picked up the phone and began to dial.

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