parole officer.”
“I know. Unfortunately, Dr. Stuart hasn’t been able to pinpoint the time of death any more exactly. Doyle, I don’t suppose you’ve had any more luck?”
Doyle shook his head. “Nothing.” He was oddly subdued, Kelly thought as she examined him. It was Friday, two days after their visit to Club Metro. She’d instituted nine-o’clock breakfast meetings for the unit to brainstorm, mainly because she’d quickly learned that if she didn’t lock down Doyle in the morning, she’d waste half the day trying to find him.
“Too bad, ’cause there are a hell of a lot of sexual predators around here. Fifty level three’s in this county alone, and those are the baddest of the bad,” Monica noted. “Rapists, child molesters, you name it. Hell, we’ve got fewer than thirty high-risk offenders in our whole state. Must be something in the Massachusetts water.”
Doyle rubbed his chin without responding, distracted.
“What’s up?” Kelly asked after scrutinizing him.
He glanced up at them, seemed to deliberate for a moment, then held up a file. “I got some DNA matches back on the other bones.”
Kelly held out her hand for the file. He paused for a beat, then reluctantly handed it over.
“What’s it say?” Monica asked, standing to peer over her shoulder.
“Two more boys were ID’d, Brooks Ferrucio and Matt White.” Kelly’s eyes narrowed as she scanned through the pages. “Both in their late teens, both had prior arrests for solicitation and possession. Mostly here, but a few in New York and Vermont, too.”
Monica let out a low whistle. “Lost hikers my ass. Jones was right, our guy targets gay hustlers.”
Doyle grunted. “Doing the world a favor, you ask me.”
“How enlightened of you,” Monica said. “Maybe when we catch the so-and-so you can give him a medal.”
“Looks like your lab did some good work here, Doyle,” Kelly said grudgingly as she continued to peruse the files. “Bones were too degraded to give an accurate cause of death, but they’ve got a timeline for us.” She turned to the whiteboard and erased the titles “John Doe #3” and John Doe #5,” replacing them with the boys’ names.
As she read aloud, she recorded the lab results below their names. “Brooks Ferrucio, age 19, last arrest May fifteenth in Williamstown, Massachusetts. Lab says he’s been dead for at least three months, so he must have disappeared sometime around the end of May. Matt White was seventeen, last arrest was a year ago, lab says the bones look like they went through the winter. They’re estimating he’s been dead for six months to a year.” Her cell phone rang, and she absentmindedly clicked it open. As she listened, she bent over and scribbled notes on a pad. “Got it,” she said into the receiver. “We’ll be there ASAP.”
“What?” Monica asked as Kelly snapped the phone shut.
Kelly’s brow creased. “Either of you know how to get to Cherry Plain State Park?”
“What, in New York?” Doyle asked, puzzled. “Yeah, that’s a few miles across the border.”
“Can you get us there?”
Doyle shrugged. “Sure. Why?”
Kelly gathered up her purse and grabbed her gun from the top desk drawer, reholstering it. “It looks like our killer has been busy.”
“Thanks again for contacting us,” Kelly said as she slipped on a pair of latex gloves and paper booties.
“Captain heard about your task force, thought the MOs might match up,” the deputy said, then leaned in to her. “In all honesty, I think he’s pawning them off on you. Our homicide clearance rate is nothing to write home about, last thing he wants is two more bodies on that list.”
“Understood,” Kelly said stiffly. At least it didn’t look as if there’d be any jurisdictional issues here, which was a relief. When she got the call that two more bodies had been found across the New York state border, she’d inwardly cringed. But as long as the New York authorities didn’t throw
“I know. Unfortunately, Dr. Stuart hasn’t been able to pinpoint the time of death any more exactly. Doyle, I don’t suppose you’ve had any more luck?”
Doyle shook his head. “Nothing.” He was oddly subdued, Kelly thought as she examined him. It was Friday, two days after their visit to Club Metro. She’d instituted nine-o’clock breakfast meetings for the unit to brainstorm, mainly because she’d quickly learned that if she didn’t lock down Doyle in the morning, she’d waste half the day trying to find him.
“Too bad, ’cause there are a hell of a lot of sexual predators around here. Fifty level three’s in this county alone, and those are the baddest of the bad,” Monica noted. “Rapists, child molesters, you name it. Hell, we’ve got fewer than thirty high-risk offenders in our whole state. Must be something in the Massachusetts water.”
Doyle rubbed his chin without responding, distracted.
“What’s up?” Kelly asked after scrutinizing him.
He glanced up at them, seemed to deliberate for a moment, then held up a file. “I got some DNA matches back on the other bones.”
Kelly held out her hand for the file. He paused for a beat, then reluctantly handed it over.
“What’s it say?” Monica asked, standing to peer over her shoulder.
“Two more boys were ID’d, Brooks Ferrucio and Matt White.” Kelly’s eyes narrowed as she scanned through the pages. “Both in their late teens, both had prior arrests for solicitation and possession. Mostly here, but a few in New York and Vermont, too.”
Monica let out a low whistle. “Lost hikers my ass. Jones was right, our guy targets gay hustlers.”
Doyle grunted. “Doing the world a favor, you ask me.”
“How enlightened of you,” Monica said. “Maybe when we catch the so-and-so you can give him a medal.”
“Looks like your lab did some good work here, Doyle,” Kelly said grudgingly as she continued to peruse the files. “Bones were too degraded to give an accurate cause of death, but they’ve got a timeline for us.” She turned to the whiteboard and erased the titles “John Doe #3” and John Doe #5,” replacing them with the boys’ names.
As she read aloud, she recorded the lab results below their names. “Brooks Ferrucio, age 19, last arrest May fifteenth in Williamstown, Massachusetts. Lab says he’s been dead for at least three months, so he must have disappeared sometime around the end of May. Matt White was seventeen, last arrest was a year ago, lab says the bones look like they went through the winter. They’re estimating he’s been dead for six months to a year.” Her cell phone rang, and she absentmindedly clicked it open. As she listened, she bent over and scribbled notes on a pad. “Got it,” she said into the receiver. “We’ll be there ASAP.”
“What?” Monica asked as Kelly snapped the phone shut.
Kelly’s brow creased. “Either of you know how to get to Cherry Plain State Park?”
“What, in New York?” Doyle asked, puzzled. “Yeah, that’s a few miles across the border.”
“Can you get us there?”
Doyle shrugged. “Sure. Why?”
Kelly gathered up her purse and grabbed her gun from the top desk drawer, reholstering it. “It looks like our killer has been busy.”
“Thanks again for contacting us,” Kelly said as she slipped on a pair of latex gloves and paper booties.
“Captain heard about your task force, thought the MOs might match up,” the deputy said, then leaned in to her. “In all honesty, I think he’s pawning them off on you. Our homicide clearance rate is nothing to write home about, last thing he wants is two more bodies on that list.”
“Understood,” Kelly said stiffly. At least it didn’t look as if there’d be any jurisdictional issues here, which was a relief. When she got the call that two more bodies had been found across the New York state border, she’d inwardly cringed. But as long as the New York authorities didn’t throw
Similar Books
