Splintered by SJD Peterson Read Free Book Online Page B

look… I don’t know, different.”
    “Are you referring to the Jefferson County cases?” Hutch nodded. “I haven’t viewed any reports, mind you, but considering that body was dumped in a rural area, it’s quite possible the difference you’re seeing is in the decomposition, or possible animal and or insect activity.”
    “No, they concluded the body was discovered shortly after it was dumped, and I didn’t see anything that would have indicated an animal had gotten hold of it. It’s the cuts and burns—they look almost too clean, like maybe our perp washed the body?”
    “It’s possible, or perhaps they were inflicted postmortem,” Fisher surmised.
    “That wouldn’t make any sense,” Hutch concluded. “My guy gets off on making his victims suffer.”
    “Either way, I won’t know until I’ve done a full examination. Was there anything else?”
    “Do you mind if I sit in on the autopsy?”
    “Not at all. I have another examination to complete tonight but say 6:00 a.m.?”
    “I’ll be there,” Hutch assured him and shook Fisher’s hand again. “Thank you for your time.”
    Hutch bit his lip and scowled, concentrating hard as he took in the scene around him. Nothing about this crime scene made sense. Where the previous victims had been found in remote areas, this one was in a relatively public place. While the prior bodies had been dumped haphazardly, this one was positioned in a morbid way to shock those discovering him as well as the investigators. The wounds were also different, yet the same. The same five-point ligature marks and evidence of torture and mutilation were there, but the major difference was, for the first time, the wounds had either been washed or inflicted after death.
    “It makes no fucking sense,” Hutch muttered in frustration as he continued to scan the area.
    “Excuse me?” A tech looked up at him questioningly.
    “Nothing, keep up the good work,” Hutch said distractedly and made his way out of the area.
    As he walked back to his car, he lit up, pulled his cell from his coat pocket, and then dialed Byte.
    Byte answered on the first ring. “Hey, Hutch, what’s up?”
    “What do you know about staging and posing bodies?” Hutch asked.
    “Well, it’s very rare. Only about 1.3 percent are left in unusual positions, with 0.3 percent being posed and even less than that for staged victims. Umm…. In all the known cases, the victims and offenders are white and on average have been older. Oh, and the victims are predominately female. Why?”
    “Because I have a young black male staged and posed.”
    “Holy shit!” Byte yelled into the phone, forcing Hutch to pull it back from his ear. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
    “No, I’m not kidding you.”
    “You think it’s our guy?”
    Hutch slid into his car and shut the door. “Everything about this scene is wrong. I suppose it’s possible we have a copycat killer,” Hutch said dubiously.
    “I know that tone,” Byte commented. “You do think it’s our guy, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, I do, and I think he’s sending us a message.”
    “Which is?” Byte queried
    “Or rather a thank you.”
    “What?” Byte asked, sounding incredulous.
    “He knows we’re here, and I believe this latest victim was his way of thanking the bureau for sending in some worthy adversaries.”
    “That’s just fucking great. It means he will more than likely change the game. Test our intellect and investigative skills,” Byte scoffed.
    “Bingo.”
    “Son of a bitch,” Byte grumbled. “So we going to play?”
    “What do you think?”
    “Game on, motherfucker!” Byte hooted.
    Hutch rolled down his window and flicked the butt of his cigarette out and then fired up the car. He had no intention of playing this guy’s deadly game; Hutch’s sole purpose was to end it.

Chapter 6

    D R . F ISHER ’ S examination confirmed the most recent victim—Mike Disson, twenty-two—had died of manual strangulation. The cigarette burns,