False Accusations by Jacobson, Alan (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

more. Cause of death? She didn’t die of rape.”

Burden bit his lower lip. “ME thinks she was tortured before she was killed.”

“Tortured how?”

Burden turned away. “Electric shocks.”

“Like a stun gun or a Taser-type device?”

“ME said no. More irregular, like nothing she’d ever seen before. She said she’d read about a case in a rural town in the Midwest where some guy had taken an electrical cord and snipped off the end, then splayed apart the exposed wires. He shoved the plug into a wall outlet and then shocked the vic. And those burn patterns matched the burn marks on Mrs. Anderson’s body. Electrical burn marks.”

“I’ll want to see the body.”

“Figured you might. But I thought you should see the crime scene first, so I told the ME we’d be by around eleven.”

Vail pointed at the bed. “This is where you found her? Facing the doorway?”

“Yeah. Like she was peacefully at rest. Even though, well, she wasn’t.” He shook his head. “Legs were spread. Like I said, he used an umbrella. Lots of vaginal and anal tearing, all the way up into the abdominal cavity.”

“Bodily fluids? DNA?”

“Working it up.” He nodded at a spot on the carpet. “There were four deep impressions at the far side of the bed, near the window. And drag marks leading away.”

“A chair? Someone was watching?”

“My partner’s guess? Forced to watch.”

“The husband.”

“Possibly,” Burden said. “Assuming he’s not the killer.”

Vail nodded thoughtfully. After a long moment, she said, “Okay.”

“So COD, to answer your question. Multiple. Heart attack, probably from the shocks she sustained. But there was also substantial head trauma. Like I said, she was kicked. Repeatedly. Hard. And there was some cutting on the body, but not deep.”

“I’ll want to see your photos.”

“Being printed this morning. My partner’s putting together a packet for you full of what we’ve got so far.”

Vail stepped over to the window and peered out, taking in not the scenery but whatever was there to see. Routes of escape, views that passersby might have had. What the neighborhood looked like from this vantage point.

“How long have they lived here?”

Burden pulled a notepad from his interior sport coat pocket. Flipped a couple pages. “In the neighborhood, twenty-two years. In this place, nineteen.”

“We’ll need a list of all residents in a six-block radius, with ages and occupations of the males. Contact info, too. Flag any with prior violent acts or arrests of any kind.”

“In this neighborhood?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” Burden pulled out an older model BlackBerry and began typing. “I’ll have my partner start on it. It’ll take a while to get that together.”

Vail turned away from the window. “What can you tell me about Mrs. Anderson?”

Burden shrugged. “People liked her. She had her circle of friends, many for a couple decades or so. But she wasn’t overly social.”

“Let’s check into the Andersons’ finances...were they involved in any shady deals? Were they the subject of a scam? Were they involved in any failed business or real estate partnerships that might’ve gone south?”

Burden began typing again. “Don’t know. Nothing that came up.”

“Ask the neighbors, family members. Let’s be thorough.” Vail crouched down to peer under the bed. “I take it you haven’t had any other elderly female sexual homicides in the region the past few years.”

He pocketed his BlackBerry. “Correct. I checked before calling. I knew we hadn’t had any up till ’06, when Safarik was here for that Violent Crimes conference the BAU put on for us. That’s why I was concerned. Somebody like this, I think he’s gonna hit again. We need to grab him up quickly.”

Vail thought a moment before responding, because she knew her answer was not going to be one that Burden wanted to hear. She decided to withhold her opinion until she had gathered more information and examined the body. “Are any of the lamp cords missing or cut?” Vail asked.

“What?”

“You said it looks like he used an electrical cord to torture Mrs. Anderson. Did anyone check the appliances, lamps, anything with a power cord?”

“I don’t see—”

“Did he bring it with him, or did he use what was here? If he brought it with him, that indicates premeditation. He planned this out. And that typically points to—”

“An organized offender.”

Vail tilted her head back. “Very good. There’s a very recent shift away from using that term and classification system, but I’m impressed.”

“I remember that from Safarik’s session at the conference. But don’t get all excited. A lot of it went in one ear and out the other. Wish we’d recorded it.”

“What, and put me out of a job?”

Burden looked at the night table. “We didn’t check the appliances. Guess we should do that.”

“Guess we should.” Vail and Burden began inspecting every outlet and powered device in the townhouse.

Vail pulled back the nightstand closest to her and peered over its back for an outlet. “Was she naked when you found her?”

Burden yanked the mattress aside to check behind the bed. “Nightgown was pulled up.”

“Over the head?”

Burden thought a second. “No, why?”

“Offenders sometimes cover their victims’ faces with an article of clothing or a pillow. A lot of times they pull up the dress and drape it across the eyes. Think of it like an apology, embarrassment at what they’re doing to an elderly woman. Maybe they don’t want to look at the face they’ve just beaten the hell out of. But if we’re dealing with a psychopath, they don’t feel anything. No remorse, embarrassment, guilt. Nothing.”

“It’s hard to think of these monsters being embarrassed about what they’re doing.”

Vail moved over to the dresser in front of the wall opposite the bed. “Like a lot of the behaviors we see, it’s symbolic. Psychologically, they’re not aware of why they’re doing what they’re doing. It just feels right to them. It gives them a sense of power; it’s sexually gratifying, exciting.”

“Exciting, huh? Man, I just don’t get that.”

“Then congratulations, Burden. You can tell your ex you’re not just a jackass, you’re a normal jackass.”

“Thanks.” He glanced sideways at her. “I think.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Vail