Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 14

After Effects

Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

Monday, 25 April - 8:30AM

Discharged from the hospital, Charley resumed work on the Senters/Ingram cases. She crossed her arms on the console, planting her forehead on her forearms and waited for Murphy to return with coffee from the kitchen.

Murphy shuffled into the office with two mugs. “Here ya go.” He placed the cups on the console. “Char, are you sure you should work?”

“I have to, or I’ll go crazy.” She placed her cheek on her hand, targeted his eyes, and smiled. “Besides, you’re here.”

Murphy grinned. His palm shadowed over her back, he bit his lower lip and removed his hand. “All right, but we can stop anytime.” He grabbed the chair and pulled it from under the console.

She shimmied the mouse over the pad. “Let’s talk about Olivia.”

“Sure.”

“Olivia breaks my heart.” She clicked the icon to open the case file. A photo of Olivia filled the screen. “This little girl has two fathers, both rejected her.”

“I couldn’t treat my child with such disregard.”

Charley reclined with a direct gaze, twiddling her chin with her fingertips. “You love children.”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you married with a house full of curtain climbers?”

“Because I want the love of my life first.”

“Ever come close?”

Murphy shook his head. “You?”

Charley cackled. “Let’s continue. We can’t dismiss the possibility Olivia might be a runaway. She has motive.”

“Regardless of what Erin said, I don’t agree. If Olivia ran she would’ve left after school, not after leaving the bus.”

“Maybe it occurred to her while on the bus.”

“Char, she made plans for playtime with Erin.”

“True.”

“Roger is a total asshole. When a child calls an adult a bully, it means something.”

“I agree. The Ingram situation is disturbing. If he never loved Olivia why adopt her?” Charley’s thumbnail scraped imaginary debris on the side of her cup.

“Char, you’re picking again. What’s on your mind?”

“Maybe there isn’t a connection between Olivia and Robin.”

“I disagree.”

Charley poked his upper arm with her finger. “When parents separate, it’s common for young children to believe they’re the reason Daddy or Mommy left. If they had done their chores, behaved, or made better grades.”

Murphy sipped his drink.

“Two ideas here.” Charley planted her chin on her folded hands. “What if Mr. Ingram took her to punish Mrs. Ingram? Erin says he mean. The man harbors control issues. Or…” She stretched arms and locked her fingers behind her head. “What if Matthew Gunderson, her natural father, kidnapped her?”

“I disagree with the running away, considering what Mrs. Ingram said. I doubt Mr. Ingram took Olivia. She’s insignificant. He’s in the middle of an affair, having a child around isn’t convenient.”

Charley rubbed her lower lip. “I’ll never understand why people marry. Monogamy no longer exists.”

“We’re not all like that, Char.”

She ignored his statement. “Continue.”

Murphy shook his head and sighed. “As far as Gunderson, I agree. Could be he has regrets or learned Mr. Ingram mistreated Olivia. Even though he turned his back on her before she was born, she’s still a part of him. Perhaps, he wanted to remove her from the situation.” Murphy tilted his head awaiting a rebuttal, but didn’t receive one. “He could be divorced. Afterwards he became curious about Olivia and saw an opportunity to reconnect.”

“You’re saying he approached Olivia. Told her who he is, and she went with him of her own free will.”

“It’s common for estranged parents to contact their children years later.”

“True.” Charley sipped her coffee. “Doobie will question Mr. Ingram and hunt down Matthew Gunderson.”

“If he’s in the Navy, it’ll be easy to find him.”

“I hope Gunderson took her.”

Murphy nodded. “So do I, otherwise we know the result.”

Charley closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “Unfortunately.”

Concerned, Murphy touched her shoulder. “Feeling okay?”

She yawned and stretched her shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Char, can we talk about Breckenridge?”

“Sure.”

“The attack wasn’t random. Whoever this guy is, he knew you were there.”

She tilted her head, peering at him. “You believe he’s stalking me?”

“Yes. Is there a perp from a past case who wants to hurt you? He said you ruined his life. Think… who would it be?”

“One, but what happened at Breckenridge isn’t his style.”

“How so?”

“This guy never beat, or caused any blunt force trauma to his victims.”

Murphy leaned towards her. “Who is this guy?”

Charley’s eyes narrowed as she clinched her teeth and turned her head. “Tangerine.” She rolled her tongue. The gluey bitterness clung to her taste buds. To this day, the loathsome fruit reminded her of him. A vile, evil sadist, he was cunning, meticulous, and patient. The imaginary citrus filled her lungs as she sighed. Plagued by a serial murderer, she accepted they would face each other someday. Was Murphy right about Tangerine attacking her at Breckenridge?

Tangerine believed he produced art, to be revered. Displayed in public, he positioned the first victim provocatively on the courthouse steps in Seattle. He created shock value at its finest. Unimaginable violations of his victims included the use of crude objects and the twisted way they were murdered. The women he abducted were eighteen or twenty-one. Never deviating. The requirement baffled her.

Over a two-year period, Tangerine abducted and murdered eight women. Inactive for two years, Charley assumed he was dead, in prison for another crime, or his trigger was dormant. A seasonal killer, he chose his victims during a significant holiday such as Christmas, Easter, or Labor Day.

It didn’t take long to give this diabolical creature the moniker of Tangerine. Strung by their feet, he severed the victims’ carotid artery while alive and drained their blood. After injecting their bodies with orange paint, he shaved their body hair. He sewed their vaginal lips shut with fishing twine. Now his canvas, he painted the victims’ bodies orange.

Charley rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Regardless of his sadistic behavior, he made sure no one else had them. A peculiar form of possessiveness.”

Murphy shook his head and made a stuttering ‘humph’. “Not my idea of how to possess a woman.”

She flinched. “Women are possessions?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Not what I mean. When a man loves a woman, it isn’t about power, control or dominance. When we relinquish our heart and love to her, she’s our everything.”

She squeezed her brows. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

Murphy plopped his elbow on the desk and smacked his forehead with his hand, shaking his head. “Char, have you ever been in love or loved a man, or a woman?”

Her eyes widened, swallowing hard. “Uh… no.” She fidgeted with the mouse. “Uhm… anyway… here’s my theory. He stalked his victims for a long period. It’s my assessment he dated them. He’s charismatic and convincing. Narcissistic he gains their trust through manipulation and promises.”

His head twitched at the sudden change in topic. “The paint, what does it mean?”

“Attention is what he wants. The color orange highlights items of importance. Paint manufacturers add coded markers during production. The brand of paint he used is SW6640, Sherwin Williams, Tangerine. We checked every distributor, wholesaler, and retailer to find who purchased the paint. We assumed he bought it days, even weeks before abducting a victim, but not every time. He diluted it with water so he could use it on two to three victims.”

Murphy raised his palms. “Stop. If you’re right and he dated them, he didn’t abduct them; he subdued them and held them captive.”

“I said he’s smart.”

“All this happened in Seattle?”

“All over the country, Tucson, Atlanta, Miami, Memphis. Different city for each victim. The primary reason we never caught him. By the time the authorities were notified, he was gone.”

“What about his victims, any likenesses?”

“Different ethnicities, hair, eyes. Their age was the only factor that linked them. His selection process had nothing to do with their appearance.”

“You call him Tangerine because of the paint?”

Charley shook her head. “No.” She stared at the half-full coffee mug. “He would place a tangerine peel underneath their eyelids… and… he stuffed a whole tangerine in their mouth.”

Murphy’s eyes widened, pushing back into the chair. “Wow.”

“No kidding. He cut the peel to fit in their eyes. Creepy stuff.”

“Did you investigate transportation passenger lists for a reoccurring name that matched with each location?”

Charley chuckled and smiled. “We did. We aren’t the Keystone Cops.”

“What else is unique about him?”

“He doesn’t make mistakes. At least, not the ones we expect. We’re not sure how he engages them, except my dating theory. No one has lived to tell us.”

“I hope you catch him.”

“Same here.” Charley gritted her teeth. “I see him in my dreams, with this snarling, evil laugh. I can’t see his face, just a silhouette. He’s my greatest failure. Sometimes, I have to punch a bag so hard, my knuckles bleed.”

Murphy tilted his head. “Is it possible Tangerine murdered Robin and Olivia to torment you?”

Charley shook her head. “Not his style. Serials don’t like change.”

“How about the man who attacked you at Breckenridge?”

“No, if it had been him, either he or I wouldn’t be here. As much as I hate to admit it, it would’ve been me.”

Chapter 15

Horseplay

Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

Tuesday, 26 April – 8:05 AM

In Charley’s kitchen, Murphy coaxed the rarely used espresso machine to splurge two cups of brew while she rustled a light breakfast. After two pours, Murphy peered around the classic Italian-styled gourmet kitchen, sipping his latte. “How long have you lived here?”

“Less than a year.” Charley nibbled on a bagel. “I love this old farmhouse. Pure luck. Bought the property at an estate sale. Paid half of its value. Since the property included a barn and twenty acres, it was a steal.”

“Let’s go riding sometime.”

Charley’s eyebrows raised. “How about we ride and talk instead staying inside? Fresh air and horse manure, heaven’s scent.”

Murphy choked on the final swallow of his coffee. “Yeah, there’s some truth in there. Sounds good. I watched your horses gallop in the corral the other day. What breeds are they?”

“Volly is a Tennessee Walking Horse. Oscar is an American Quarter Horse. Roulette is a Thoroughbred, and Ibby is an Andalusian.”

“How do you care for them?” He swiped her bagel. After taking a bite, he returned it to her. “Where do you find the time?”

She split the bagel and handed him the other half. “Rafael.”

“Who’s he?”

“There’s a small house on the other end of the property.” Charley covered her mouth as she chewed. “Rafael and his family live there, rent and utility free. In exchange, he takes care of my babies.”

“You don’t pay him? How do they eat and such?” He crammed the rest of the bagel into his mouth.

“He teaches a foreign language at a local high school. His wife, Denise, is a physical therapist.” Charley finished her bagel and dusted the crumbs from her hands. “Early morning and afternoons he’s at the barn. I help if I’m available. His two sons chip in. They attend George Mason University. Nice family, I like them.”

Murphy tapped her arm. “Let’s saddle up, cowgirl.”

Charley grinned. “Okay, pardner.”

∞ ∞ ∞

Charley and Murphy saddled the horses in the six-stall stable. She took the time to show him how to ready a horse for riding before retreating to the storage room at the rear of the barn. Upon her return, she cantered towards him down the center aisle, wearing a straw, ranch hand hat.

Murphy’s lambent grin widened as he pointed at her. “Do you have one for me?”

“Uh, yes, I’ll grab one.”

She returned to the stock cabinet and removed a dashing black Stetson, with a narrow dark green hatband. On her walk back to him, she swept her hand over the material to remove any dust. “Here, this should fit.” She motioned for him to bend towards her. Charley plunked the hat on his head and made adjustments. “Nice fit?”

Murphy held the front and rear dip of the brim and performed the traditional tipping. With his fingers, he slicked the brim and nodded. “Thank ya, ma’am. I’m much obliged by your kind gesture.”

Charley chuckled. “Goofy.” She took a step back. “Any riding experience?”

“When I lived in San Diego I rode a lot as a teenager before we moved to Norfolk.”

“You told me you were from Annandale?”

“My parents are from here and I was born here.”

“I don’t understand. How do San Diego and Norfolk tie in?”

“My parents were Navy, now they’re retired,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “They’re surgeons.”

“Why didn’t you pursue medicine? You’re smart enough.”

“I love the law.”

“We have that in common. Let’s ride.”

He laughed, slipping his booted foot into the stirrup. He gripped the horn and cantle, glimpsing over the saddle as she readied herself to mount Roulette.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Need a boost?”

She glanced at him with a cagey grin. “Humph.” Hands free with her left foot in the stirrup, applying the strength of her leg muscles she thrust her body upward and swung her right leg over the horse. She wiggled into the saddle and winked at him. “Any questions?”

“No, I don’t think so. You should register those legs as lethal weapons.”

“They are.” With the reins in her hand, she clicked her mouth, guiding Roulette towards the double doors.

He patted the black mane of his mount. “Which horse is this?”

“Oscar, Quarter Horse.”

“He’s a beauty.”

With twenty plus acres of riding room, they headed towards a grove of trees, bordering the lake. She held the reins in one hand. Her shoulders relaxed, her body swayed in cadence with the horse’s gait. Emotions bubbled inside him as her hips moved slow and easy in the saddle.

A pleasant moan settled in his throat. “Any news about the case?”

“Yes.” She fiddled with the buckle on the saddle pack. “Doobie called last night. Mr. Ingram was at work the day of the kidnapping. Matthew Gunderson has been at sea in the Pacific since February. Doobie spoke to him via video conference.”

“Too bad Gunderson didn’t take her.”

“I agree.” She pulled a bottle of water from the pack. “Mrs. Gunderson filed for divorce.”

“Did she?”

“Don’t blame her. Gunderson was twenty-six and Ms. Ingram was fifteen when he initiated their sexual relationship.” She uncapped the bottle and handed it to him. “Gunderson lied about his age to Mrs. Ingram. Imagine her shock.”

“Thanks.” He lifted the cap and took a drink. “Jail bait. Not smart.”

She grabbed a second bottle of water and removed the cap. “Mrs. Gunderson considers Mr. Gunderson a child molester.”

Both of their mobiles chimed.

“Damn.” Murphy frowned and shook his head. “Olivia.”

“Wonderful, we were having fun.” She guided Roulette towards the stable, cramming her water bottle into the saddlebag.

Following her lead, he did the same. “Let’s go.”

She snapped the reins and in a throaty command alerted Roulette. “Go, baby, go.” Roulette reared while Charley leaned forward to remove her weight from the horse’s back to maintain balance. Roulette dug in and galloped. Over the sweet spot, Charley urged the equine to stretch it out. The animal neighed and bolted fast and low. “C’mon baby, go, go, go.” She laid forward as Roulette raced them home. Charley glanced to the rear. Murphy and Oscar were gaining momentum.

The rumbling hooves hammered the ground as Oscar’s nose approached Roulette’s flank. Oscar inched next to Roulette as he raised his head and neighed. Roulette responded with a whinny.

Charley laughed. “They’re challenging each other. Oscar doesn’t have a chance.”

“Let’s not kill them, okay?” Murphy said over the thundering hooves.

“It’s their party.” She grinned, snapping the reins. “Go, baby go.”