The Taxidermy Killer by Stewart Clyde

Author:Stewart Clyde [Clyde, Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

27

Savannah

Carver hadn’t spoken the whole journey. Sandling was watching him out the corner of her eye as he drove and could tell he was distracted.

He moved his lips silently and made unconscious gestures with his hand, having an imaginary conversation with someone. Occasionally he would realize he was doing it, and in moments of self-awareness say, “Sorry, just a few things on my mind.”

“Anything in particular?” Sandling would ask.

Carver never responded.

Most times he just berated another driver as a way of changing the subject.

He slowed down as they drove along the length of Forsyth Park. It was a clear day. A woman jogged along the path next to them. People were walking their dogs. Smiling. Enjoying the day. Sandling watched them with envy. Her eyes drifted to Carver. He looked tired. His eyes withdrawn. She could feel how he was straining against this unseen obstacle.

He turned a corner and glanced at the torn bit of paper he’d written the address down on. “Think it’s around here,” he said. They saw the street ahead full of cars and people. The local police had set up a perimeter around the front of the house and a tall African-American policeman was trying to calm the crowd of onlookers and reporters down.

“Turning into a feeding frenzy,” Carver said and spotted a parking spot and swung into it.

They'd have to walk up to the house. He stepped out of the car without words and they walked shoulder-to-shoulder up the sidewalk. Carver pushed his way through the three-deep crowd and signaled for the attention of the policeman.

“Step back, sir,” the policeman yelled over the rabble. Carver flipped open his ID and the policeman's attitude switched instantly. The uniformed cop lifted the yellow police tape and Carver and Sandling ducked under and made their way up the stairs to the front door.

They gave their names and badge numbers to another local cop holding a clipboard at the top of the stairs and went inside.

“The bodies are already on ice,” a woman in a white hazmat suit and blue mask said as she approached them. “Erin Holtzclaw, forensics,” she said. “I won’t shake your hands,” and indicated her nitrile gloves. “You must be Carver and Sandling. You’re a bit late, we’re just finishing up but I told Deputy Gibson I would wait for you. Don’t worry about putting on personal protective equipment, we’ve already swept the scene. We’ll need a swab before you leave though, just in case.”

Sandling watched Holtzclaw closely. A little enviously. She seemed so on top of it. A real professional. They were rare. Sandling wanted to be the same way but knew she wasn’t.

“Thanks,” Carver said. “You said bodies … how many were there?”

“This way, Agent Carver, let me walk you through what happened. I hear you think it might be a serial murderer. I wouldn’t wish this crime scene on my noisiest neighbor.” Holtzclaw looked at them and waited for a laugh and Sandling forced a smile. “Where you’re standing now is where the first victim, one Miss Carina Ellington, died.

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