Ken gave a slight nod.
“Let me show you both to the conference room.” He crossed to the elevator with long confident strides and pressed the button. The door opened, and when they stepped inside, he swiped a key card and pressed “5” before the doors closed.
The elevator doors opened to a reception area, and a pretty redhead sitting behind a polished desk smiled.
“We’ll be in the conference room, Naomi,” Andrews said.
“I’ve notified the rest of the committee,” Naomi said. “They’re on their way.”
“Thank you.” He extended his hand toward the long hallway. “It’s right this way.”
As Julia and Ken followed Andrews, her mind ticked through the key points she wanted to make to the committee.
The west wall of the conference room consisted of a bank of windows offering a clear view of the woods and a lake. A dozen office chairs surrounded a long polished conference table. Under a flat-screen television, a matching credenza was filled with drinks, fruits, and doughnuts. Doughnuts. Cops and their doughnuts.
“Can I offer you a drink or snack?” Andrews asked.
“A coffee would be great,” Ken said. “Black, one sugar.”
Andrews poured a cup and handed it to Ken. “Julia, what about you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” She all but lived on caffeine, but right now she was too hyped to risk another cup. “Where would you like us to sit?” She heard the clip in her voice and tried to soften it with a smile.
“At this end of the table,” Andrews said.
She slid her purse from her shoulder and into the chair to the left of the head spot, which she’d give to Ken.
“Sure I can’t get you a beverage?” he asked.
A pack of cigarettes. A shot of tequila. Maybe bourbon. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
Two men entered the room. Her homework had also told her the striking man with short black hair was Clay Bowman, the company’s new CEO. Bowman was dating a Virginia State Police trooper and had worked with Agent Sharp on a cold case last month. To his left was a fit man in his midsixties. That would be Joshua Shield, founder of the company.
Andrews made introductions. Hands were shaken.
“Dakota Sharp speaks highly of you,” Bowman said.
Julia held his direct gaze. “He’s one hell of a cop.”
“Agreed.”
Bowman and Shield sat opposite Julia and Ken.
“Agent Vargas kindly sent me her presentation, and it’s now uploaded into our system,” Andrews said.
“We’re ready whenever you are, Agent Vargas,” Bowman said.
Andrews handed Julia the remote. The lights in the room dimmed, and the first image, a warehouse located in Richmond’s Shockoe Bottom, came up. “This area of Richmond is the old tobacco warehouse district of the city. Today, it’s been revitalized and is home to many young professionals.” She clicked through more images of the area. “In the midseventies and eighties the area was in decline, but by 1992 was beginning to see a significant uptick in traffic. The promise of the city’s new flood wall encouraged more businesses to relocate to the area. However, drugs and prostitution weren’t uncommon, and there were many old tobacco warehouses yet to be renovated.”
Unable to sit, Julia rose when the slide changed to the twenty-five-year-old image of the now-defunct Shockoe Bottom bar Stella’s, owned by the first victim. “The Hangman was a serial killer who stalked Shockoe Bottom in the fall of 1992. As I said in my application, my father, Detective Jim Vargas, worked with Detective Ken Thompson to solve the murder of three women. All three victims were found within a three-block radius of Stella’s, located on the eastern fringe of Shockoe Bottom.”
Julia stole a glance toward her audience and found them all paying close attention.
A click and the screen image changed to the mug shot of a young woman with long brown hair and blue eyes. Mascara smudged under defiant eyes that stared at the camera. “This is the first victim. Her name was Rene Tanner. She worked at and co-owned Stella’s with her husband, Gene Tanner. According to her husband, she took the evening off to go out with friends. She never came home. Her body was found hanging in a nearby warehouse six days later. The investigators focused on Gene Tanner, who until the death of the second victim was their primary suspect. Tanner didn’t report his wife missing for three days, and when asked about the delay said his wife often took off.”
“He was a hostile witness from the start,” Ken said. “He was irritated and angry each time Jim and I interviewed him. He was uncooperative and considered unstable.”
Julia clicked to a crime-scene photo displaying a naked body hanging in a bleak warehouse. “Note the bindings securing the victim’s hands and feet. The knot work wasn’t elaborate and was associated with some bondage fetish cultures.”
“Do you think she was a willing participant?” Bowman asked.
“I think she knew her killer. She was arrested for prostitution and drug distribution several times. The medical examiner tested her blood and found high levels of cocaine.”
“There were no signs of bruising on her body, suggesting she might have known her killer,” Ken said. “Another reason we focused on Gene Tanner.”
The next slide featured a young African American woman. “This is the second victim, Tamara Brown, who was age twenty-one at the time of her death. Tamara also had an arrest record for prostitution and drugs. She was found in an abandoned warehouse two blocks from Stella’s.” The next image featured Tamara Brown’s lifeless body suspended from a beam.
“She’s displayed differently,” Shield noted.
Julia nodded. “Yes. The knots were more complex, and her arms were extended as if she were a puppet. The medical examiner believed she asphyxiated over several hours.”
“That’s slower than Tanner. He was prolonging the kill,” Bowman said.
“That was the theory.” Julia clicked to a series of forensic slides. “Hair and semen samples were found on her body and tested for DNA, but there were no hits. I’m hoping subsequent technology might discover what wasn’t available to the lab in 1992.”
“The clothes were found near their bodies in all three cases,” Andrews said. “Was DNA pulled from their clothing?”
“Yes,” Ken said. “The lab results were inconclusive.”
Andrews raised a brow. “From all three cases?”
“Yes,” Ken said.
Andrews stared at the screen. “Continue, Agent Vargas.”
“Brown had been dead approximately four days when discovered,” Julia said. “During that time, Gene Tanner was in Atlantic City with dozens of witnesses corroborating an alibi. Security cameras also had him on video.”