uncomfortably and then moved the cane to his opposite hand. ‘Why do you think the Ripper contacted you?’
‘Like I said on the way here, we don’t know that the man I spoke to actually is the Red Hill Ripper.’ Darby had told Hoder the details of last night’s phone call as she drove him to the station, which was conveniently less than two miles from the hotel, located on the outskirts of the downtown area. She had also given him a rundown of her encounter with Deputy Sheriff Lancaster. ‘For all we know it was just some local guy with a pair of binocs who gets off on watching an old lady undressing.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’
‘That I’m old? Yes, I do. Unfortunately.’
‘I’m being serious. How many peeping toms do you know who call to alert their target – and use a voice-changer to boot?’
‘I’m not putting too much stock in what happened last night. Williams told me the Ripper has never called anyone associated with the case.’
Ray Williams had helped her to search the wooded area near her window for footprints. They hadn’t found any. She had also searched the area again, early this morning, before going to the station, and had come up empty – which wasn’t all that surprising. As Williams had correctlypointed out last night, there was a part of the main sidewalk that offered a direct view into her bedroom window. If the man who had been watching her had used something more powerful than a pair of binoculars – a monocular or sniper scope – he could have counted the crow’s feet around her eyes.
‘If the man who called you last night is the Red Hill Ripper,’ Hoder said, ‘I guarantee he’ll call you again.’
‘Does the media know you’re here?’
‘A reporter came up from Denver the day we arrived. He was waiting outside the hotel.’
‘You talk to him?’
‘No. But that didn’t prevent him from writing a story on that “monster hunter” bullshit. It ran in yesterday’s paper.’
‘Did my name appear in the story?’ asked Darby.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t read the article, but I know I didn’t mention your name to the reporter.’ His eyes narrowed in thought. ‘If your name wasn’t in the story and if the man who called you last night was the Ripper, how did he know you’re here?’
‘Good question. I’m wondering if he was watching the house yesterday. There sure as hell are plenty of places to hide.’ Darby polished off the rest of her coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. ‘Maybe he called Lancaster for some ideas.’
‘You should’ve woken me last night.’
‘I called Williams. Besides, I thought one of us should get a full night’s sleep. You looked like you were in a lot of pain yesterday, when you came by the house.’
‘Just some minor swelling. Next time something like that happens, please include me, no matter what time of night and no matter how you think I’m feeling.’
Darby caught the undercurrent in Hoder’s tone. The man was frightened of being put out to pasture – of becoming obsolete.
‘You’re right,’ Darby said. ‘I’m sorry.’
Hoder flashed his bright and youthful smile. ‘I bet saying that hurt.’
‘More than you know.’
Hoder grinned as he reached for a thick folder on the counter. ‘Our lab identified the knot,’ he said, and removed the page and handed it to her.
The sheet of paper contained two colour photos. The top one showed two loose pieces of nylon rope loosely wrapped together, forming a knot that hadn’t been tightened. There were two twists in the bottom part of the knot and one twist on the top.
‘It’s called a surgeon’s knot, or ligature knot,’ Hoder said. ‘That bottom picture shows what the knot looks like after it’s tightened. The way the rope’s bound together, the knot doesn’t have much give, which allowed him to control the tension. He could choke them slowly over hours, listening to them beg and plead for their lives; or, after one good,
‘Like I said on the way here, we don’t know that the man I spoke to actually is the Red Hill Ripper.’ Darby had told Hoder the details of last night’s phone call as she drove him to the station, which was conveniently less than two miles from the hotel, located on the outskirts of the downtown area. She had also given him a rundown of her encounter with Deputy Sheriff Lancaster. ‘For all we know it was just some local guy with a pair of binocs who gets off on watching an old lady undressing.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’
‘That I’m old? Yes, I do. Unfortunately.’
‘I’m being serious. How many peeping toms do you know who call to alert their target – and use a voice-changer to boot?’
‘I’m not putting too much stock in what happened last night. Williams told me the Ripper has never called anyone associated with the case.’
Ray Williams had helped her to search the wooded area near her window for footprints. They hadn’t found any. She had also searched the area again, early this morning, before going to the station, and had come up empty – which wasn’t all that surprising. As Williams had correctlypointed out last night, there was a part of the main sidewalk that offered a direct view into her bedroom window. If the man who had been watching her had used something more powerful than a pair of binoculars – a monocular or sniper scope – he could have counted the crow’s feet around her eyes.
‘If the man who called you last night is the Red Hill Ripper,’ Hoder said, ‘I guarantee he’ll call you again.’
‘Does the media know you’re here?’
‘A reporter came up from Denver the day we arrived. He was waiting outside the hotel.’
‘You talk to him?’
‘No. But that didn’t prevent him from writing a story on that “monster hunter” bullshit. It ran in yesterday’s paper.’
‘Did my name appear in the story?’ asked Darby.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t read the article, but I know I didn’t mention your name to the reporter.’ His eyes narrowed in thought. ‘If your name wasn’t in the story and if the man who called you last night was the Ripper, how did he know you’re here?’
‘Good question. I’m wondering if he was watching the house yesterday. There sure as hell are plenty of places to hide.’ Darby polished off the rest of her coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. ‘Maybe he called Lancaster for some ideas.’
‘You should’ve woken me last night.’
‘I called Williams. Besides, I thought one of us should get a full night’s sleep. You looked like you were in a lot of pain yesterday, when you came by the house.’
‘Just some minor swelling. Next time something like that happens, please include me, no matter what time of night and no matter how you think I’m feeling.’
Darby caught the undercurrent in Hoder’s tone. The man was frightened of being put out to pasture – of becoming obsolete.
‘You’re right,’ Darby said. ‘I’m sorry.’
Hoder flashed his bright and youthful smile. ‘I bet saying that hurt.’
‘More than you know.’
Hoder grinned as he reached for a thick folder on the counter. ‘Our lab identified the knot,’ he said, and removed the page and handed it to her.
The sheet of paper contained two colour photos. The top one showed two loose pieces of nylon rope loosely wrapped together, forming a knot that hadn’t been tightened. There were two twists in the bottom part of the knot and one twist on the top.
‘It’s called a surgeon’s knot, or ligature knot,’ Hoder said. ‘That bottom picture shows what the knot looks like after it’s tightened. The way the rope’s bound together, the knot doesn’t have much give, which allowed him to control the tension. He could choke them slowly over hours, listening to them beg and plead for their lives; or, after one good,