“I concur.” Doc Coblentz takes off his glasses. “Combined with the bruising on the wrists, we’re going to rule the manner of death a homicide.”
Though I had anticipated this, I’m still shocked by the images running through my mind. Amos Plank kneeling. A killer standing over him, holding a gun in the Amish man’s mouth. An execution-style murder is unfathomable. But for someone to be cold enough to look into another human being’s eyes and pull the trigger is pure, unadulterated evil.
CHAPTER 10
Dusk falls softly in October. The hard glare of the afternoon sun acquiesces to the cool hush of the night layer by layer. Darkness will not arrive peacefully tonight. Sitting at my computer in my cramped office at the station, I watch a bank of storm clouds to the west steal the final snatches of light from the horizon. Lightning flickers, outlining the silhouettes of massive thunder-heads. I feel a storm of a different nature roiling inside me.
The Plank family has been dead for about eighteen hours. I should be relieved Mary Plank’s autopsy uncovered evidence that could conceivably solve the case. Once DNA is extracted and CODIS comes back, we could have a name. I can’t quiet the nagging voice in my head telling me it’s not going to be that easy.
In order for CODIS to spit out a name, the perpetrator must already be in the system. He must have been arrested at some point in his lifetime. And the data must have been entered into the database, which doesn’t always happen. What if he’s got a previously clean record?
Of course the DNA and fibers will help me build a case, particularly if we make the arrest and it goes to trial. But if I’ve learned anything in my years of law enforcement, it’s that nothing ever gets handed to you. We’re a long way from making an arrest. I don’t even have a suspect yet. That salient responsibility falls heavy on my shoulders tonight.
I spoke to the crime scene tech earlier and asked him to be on the lookout for Mary Plank’s missing uterus. If there’s a fetus inside, we might be able to extract paternal DNA. The tech said he would get a septic tank company out there tomorrow to check the lines and tank, in case it was flushed down the toilet. I’ll have my own officers do a more thorough search of the grounds. But the small body part could be anywhere.
I should go home, eat a decent meal, and get some rest. The days and weeks ahead promise to be long and grueling. But I know I won’t sleep tonight. Not when I have a dead family on my hands and a mass murderer running loose in my town.
Grabbing my jacket and keys, I leave my office. My newly hired second-shift dispatcher, a young woman who just had her twenty-first birthday, sits at the dispatch-switchboard station filing her nails. “Calling it a day, Chief?”
Jodie Metzger is blond and pretty and came with not one, but four glowing recommendations. Of course all of them were from men. I have a feeling those big baby blues had more to do with it than her typing speed or organizational skills. But I do my best to keep my preconceived notions in check. As long as she shows up on time, and does a good job with the phones and radio, I’m willing to give her a chance.
“I’m going to head out to the Plank farm,” I tell her.
“All by yourself?” She gives me an I-wouldn’t-be-caught-dead-out-there look. “Radio says we’ve got heavy weather on the way.”
“Hopefully, I’ll beat the storm.”
“It’s going to be kind of scary with no lights.”
“I’ll try not to scare anyone.” Smiling, I yank open the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Though the storm hasn’t yet arrived, the wind has kicked up. Leaves skitter like crabs across the sidewalk as I cross to the Explorer. I can smell the rain and blowing dust now. I hope the storm holds off long enough for me to reach the farm.
I keep an eye on the sky as I head out of town. The first fat drops splat on the windshield as I turn into the lane of the Plank farm. The slow-moving-vehicle sign mounted on the rear of the buggy reflects my headlights as I park. I’m surprised to find the CSU van gone. I was hoping to speak to the techs before they called it a day. Hopefully, I’ll have their report on my desk first thing in the morning.
Lightning splits the sky as I grab my Maglite and take the sidewalk to the back door. On the porch, crime scene tape flutters in the wind. The bloodstains are still there, but I know they’ll soon be washed away by the rain. Ducking under the tape, I use the key and step inside.