Dark Mind Page 17

  Lani studied the photos and took in the information.

  Jordan piped up. “I agree, this person is someone who has hunted various types of game and knows how to dress out the animal with extreme proficiency.” He pointed out one of the other photos.

  “How about a butcher or even someone experienced in surgery like a hospital technician or nurse?”

  “It’s possible, but unlikely. A butcher has a definite way of preparing and cutting livestock, which would be redundant. A surgeon would use much more precise cutting tools like a scalpel.” Emily explained.

  Jordan interjected. “And the knots tied around the wrists and ankles on Carolyn were similar to someone who mountain climbs, boats, or camps. Probably someone who has experience of all three like someone who lives or camps off the land.”

  “So you’re saying that this guy is someone who lives off the land here on Kauai?” Lani spoke more to himself than to Emily and Jordan.

  “This is where Jordan and I differ in opinion. I believe this man is a white male somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five, local or at least most of his life, fits in to the community, someone you’ve seen or know. Could be someone as unobtrusive as the person that makes your coffee at the local coffee house.”

  “Nice thought.” Jordan glanced to empty gourmet coffee cups around the office.

  “And, Jordan believes it’s a Hawaiian local who has never fit into society, reclusive, unapproachable.”

  Lani asked, “Don’t most serial killers kill in their own race?”

  “Not always, that’s a nice cookie-cutter approach perpetuated by the FBI, but every case and every killer has their own psychological needs, own experiences, and skills that they bring to each crime scene.” Emily looked from Lani to Jordan. “Sorry about the FBI crack Jordan.”

  “No problem, I totally agree with you.” He smiled and fidgeted, averting her gaze.

  “What would his motivation be?” Lani pointed to the creepy totem from the plantation crime scene.

  Emily sat down at the desk and pulled up several pages from her laptop. “From what you told me at the sugar plantation “Ke-olo-‘ewa” was a god of sorcerers and black magic who was said to possess people.”

  “He was said to roam the East Kona District area in ancient times through Hawaiian folklore.” Interjected Lani.

  “Was there any forensic evidence recovered like fingerprints, hair or fiber?”

  “None with the exception of the vic’s hair on the totem.” Lani said with shame in his voice. “The crime scenes were contaminated and if there was any, it’s lost. The patrol cops even trampled the bare foot prints.”

  Jordan interjected. “At least we know the approximated size of the footprints, size 11, and that this person favors their insoles.”

  “You can tell that?” Lani asked.

  “Sure, look closely at the photos Emily took at the sugar plantation.” He pointed out. “See, how the inside the of the foot is more pronounced and the slight blurring of the heel and big toe? It shows that these feet are heavily calloused. This is a person who has always been barefoot and probably only wears shoes when absolutely necessary. And, no doubt uncomfortable with manmade shoes because it would be too confining for him.”

  Lani remained quiet.

  Emily pushed her chair back away from the desk. “Motivation as far as I can see with his handiwork at the crime scenes seems to indicate that he’s sacrificing the victims.”

  “A sacrifice?” Lani raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes, he’s not taunting the police or trying to pose the crime scenes for our benefit, it’s for…” She hesitated. “His god or who he perceives as his god. These totems are special offerings and the victims are specifically chosen. My guess, they are offerings for him to get something specific in return.” She points to the graphic photographs. “Look at how both of the women’s torsos were the source of his brutal attack – to him it’s like the soul or essence of the person he’s sacrificing. The sorcerer god was known to possess people to become something otherworldly or from another dimension. He wants to move on in another form of existence.”

  Lani let out a breath as he scanned through all the photos and information.

  Jordan added. “We’re not trying to make your job more difficult, but enlighten you to the crime scenes.”

  “One thing is for sure.” Emily stated.

  Jordan finished her thought. “He’s highly organized, island resourceful, and picks his victims carefully, but… he will kill again and again unless you stop him.”

  “Like so many serial killers.”

  “What’s next?” Lani asked.

  Emily pulled the pushpin down from the bulletin board with a photo of Daniel Lee Cogan, with his deep characterless eyes and smarmy grin. “We need to put him under surveillance and see what transpires from it. He fits the profile with a violent history of hurting and raping women, avid hunter and camper, thirty-four years old, and he travels back an forth on all the islands. He’s the only real lead right now. Rick and I will check him out tomorrow and I’ll let you know any and all the details via cell phone. Jordan is going to dig up the history on him and find out who he visits and where he’s been over the past few years.”

  “Okay.” Lani said slowly.

  Emily continued, “I’d bet that you will be receiving a call soon of another murder. The only thing that’s frantic about this serial killer is the timing of what he wants. He will kill someone every night if that’s what it takes. Maybe we can stop him if it’s Cogan.”

  “Besides, serial killers always have three names.” Jordan chuckled.

  “Thank you both, you’ve made things clearer for me. I appreciate it.” Lani still stared at the lists and photographs.

  “It’s what we do.” Jordan smiled broadly.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Friday 0110 Hours

  The moon rose as the clouds separated. Even in the moonlight, the natural layers of the canyon looked too picture perfect with shades of green, island clay, reminiscent of the Grand Canyon.

  The Waimea Canyon championed Kauai’s most breathtaking point of interest and tourist viewed anomaly. It combined the beautiful rocky building blocks in carefully formed layers with the island’s most stunning jungle foliage.

  The parking lot abandoned by all the daily rental cars and tour buses leached an unearthly feeling of isolation in the early morning hours. Macabre shadows in the deepest recessed corners offered little explanation. One dark, older model truck parked within the shadows and out of sight from anyone who might pass by on the main road.

  A path led up several cement stairs with metal handrails to the platform landing in a one hundred-eighty degree view of the spectacular point of interest.

  A soft clanging cut through the night.

  Whimper.

  Keo walked back and forth from the parking lot to the platform as he mentally inventoried his next move. Precision proved to be successful. It was pure kismet that he noticed the woman hiking on the path, just past dark as he took his favored hikes. Her uncertain pace and frightened demeanor made her a perfect choice. He had been depressed that the gods hadn’t responded to his generous offerings. But, the lovely young woman had been sent to him to reinforce his faith, patience, and understanding.

  Cries.

  Keo took a moment to remember the fateful moment that changed his day’s destiny, savoring every detail. He closed his eyes and felt the climate merge with his soul, smelled the layers of the jungle, willed his adrenaline to cease, and remembered her fear. The compulsion swelled inside him.

  Jogging up behind the dark haired woman dressed in blue and yellow shorts with a white tank top, he spoke with authority. “Are you lost?”

  “Yes, I seemed to have taken the wrong trail and I can’t find my way back to the campgrounds.” Her dark eyes looked relieved to see him.

  “No problem, it’s just a little ways back. Follow me.”

  Fate steppe
d in and verified its sense of humor of perfect timing.

  “Thank you.”

  He led the woman up a steep trail and backtracked toward a place he had camped out on many occasions. Almost fifteen minutes had passed since their chance meeting.

  She politely asked. “How much longer? It’s getting really dark and the mosquitoes are out in force.”

  He stopped and pointed. “It’s just right down that trail and you’ll be just above the campsite, you can’t miss it. Enjoy your visit.” He smiled.

  “Thank you so much.”

  Her pace picked up as she thought she would be back at her campsite. As she strode through the brush, the hiking path ended, trees and shrubs dense, and her vision became obscured with shadows and no way to pass.

  She didn’t know what to do next; the only option was to turn back. As she turned to retrace her footsteps, large hands grabbed her from behind pressing hard against her carotid artery on the left side of her neck.

  She fell limp in his arms.

  Keo saw the reel of images pan vividly in his mind, felt the touch of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and the excitement of knowing that he had more to offer his gods.

  Keolo’ewa.

  Now, he admired his fate as the woman struggled with restraints on her wrists and ankles. Since Keo didn’t have time to inject her with his perfect drug combination, he worked quickly to secure her like a trophy hog with feet and hands affixed on the bottom railing. His only disappointment prompted him to secure her mouth with tape. He would remove it after it was done, not leaving anything behind to be traced to him.

  He set the organic woven basket down on the platform ten feet from the woman. She eyed the contents and squirmed in horror. Keo unloaded the basket like he had just returned from the grocery store with a few things to tide him over until the next visit.

  He rolled out an old, threadbare, blue beach towel that revealed three hunting knives varying in size from six to twelve inches with custom, jagged edges and antique ivory handles. They gleamed in the moonlight.

  Muffled cries.

  Keo stole a selfish moment to touch the blades with a tender, lingering touch and turned them over in his hands before returning them to the towel. He continued to unpack the basket one item at a time of coconut husks, scissors, scalpel, straw, twine, glue, matches, and lighter fluid.

  Keolo’ewa.

  It was time to begin.

  He raised his hands to the sky and to the eyes that looked down on him, then in the direction of the Pacific Ocean, and gave thanks to the gods for the wonderful opportunity and hope for a new life.

  Selecting the largest hunting knife, Keo approached the woman and knelt next to her. He could see her tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. With his left hand, he stroked her face like a lover would. “Shhhh… we will be together again, I promise.”

  Whimper.

  Only a second after he spoke the sweet words, he sliced her neck from an inch below each ear. Blood flowed freely, splattering the cement platform in a dramatic display.

  He stood back and watched with almost a childlike curiosity. It didn’t repulse or frighten him, but the crimson life dwindling from the body cultivated wonder and enlightenment deep inside him.

  Her lifeless body sagged from the restraints. The moonlight highlighted her white skin and pallid face. Fully satisfied with the preliminary work, Keo took the same knife and cut the ropes away from her hands and feet, carefully returning the ropes to his basket.

  He dragged the body to the center of the viewing platform. The long process of performing what the gods required of him began.

  Keolo’ewa.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Friday 0645 Hours

  “I found the connection!” Jordan jumped up and down on the king sized bed adding a little more drama to his announcement as he pumped his feet faster. The bed bounced and shook.

  Emily and Rick had been sound asleep, rocked to wakefulness with a startle.

  “Didn’t you guys hear what I said?” He jumped off the bed and grabbed his laptop from the dresser. “It’s right here, we are so close. I can feel it.”

  “What’s wrong with you Jordan?” Emily mumbled and pulled the sheets up higher covering her chest. She grimaced at the clock, which read: 6:45AM

  “C’mon, you’re not really going to sleep the morning away? We have a killer to catch.”

  “Dammit Jordan!” Rick sat up rubbing his eyes. “You better not be jerking our chain.”

  “Muah?” Jordan sat down on the end of the bed. “Would I ever do that?” His question gave way to his big, Cheshire cat smile.

  “Alright, what do you have?” Rick asked.

  “You guys are naked under there, aren’t you? Because… if you are, I can leave.”

  “Jordan!” Emily sat up revealing a pale pink tank top.

  “I think I’ve discovered some little island secrets that make a lot of sense.” He paused a moment to visually trace the outline of Emily’s top.

  “Jordan, show us what you’ve got.” Emily sighed as she blinked her eyes to focus on the laptop screen.

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Jordan flipped his laptop open. A grainy newspaper photograph revealed a snapshot of several men standing in a line with their shotguns. The men were part of some kind of hunting competition several years ago according to the headline: Local Team Snags Winning Trophy.

  Rick and Emily stared at the photo.

  “Don’t you guys see it?” Jordan sighed. He pointed. “That’s one of Kauai PDs finest, who is now the chief, you know the big cheese and…” He dramatically paused and pointed to the man next to him. “That’s Daniel Lee Cogan. He’s the chief’s half brother. What do you think of that?”

  “Things are beginning to make some sense.” Emily mused and took a closer look at the group of men. “You need to get the background of the rest of the group. I wonder why Lani didn’t tell us?”

  “I’m on it. Maybe he doesn’t know?” Jordan smiled at the couple and then stood up and left the bedroom.

  “Didn’t see that one coming.” Rick mumbled.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “We can check out his house.”

  Emily rolled over and groaned.

  “Em? Emily you have to go to work now. We’re already awake anyway.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” She playfully replied.

  Rick rolled over and kissed her. He lingered for a few more precious moments.

  * * * * *

  Lani imagined the terrified caller’s voice recounting the brutal image of a murdered woman to the 911-dispatch operator first thing in the morning from the Waimea Canyon lookout. According to the watch commander that woke him from his deep sleep, a tour bus had arrived before 8:00am to view the spectacular canyon and waterfalls before a buffet breakfast at one of the large hotels on the northern part of the island. No one could have dreamed up what they would find.

  When his landline rang, Lani slept through the annoying rings. Not until his cell phone sounded did he pick up to find out about the newest murder. The implicit instructions flowed down the chain of command and landed in his lap. He felt a strange sense of operation like a poorly written play and waited for the hammer to fall.

  Lani had the previous day off, after he explained, at least from his own thought out story, what had happened at the morgue. Every thing went smoothly and he received more sympathies and “atta boys” than directed questions into the investigation. It was the first time in his career that he had told a bold face lie to superiors and manipulated a crime scene.

  It unsettled his soul.

  He didn’t pay any attention to the large crowd of tourists and onlookers assembled as he drove into the parking lot at Waimea lookout. Eager faces and concerned citizens kept in a tight perimeter with the first responder patrol officers craned their necks to see the detective arrive. They wanted some type of answer as to why a person would commit such a horrific crime, but Lani didn�
�t have the explanation or any words of wisdom why one person slaughtered another.

  He slammed his patrol car into park, cut the engine, grabbed his notebook and digital camera, and threw open the driver’s door. Lani put on his serious game face and walked to the crime scene area. He ignored looks from the spectators.

  A patrol officer approached Lani. “She’s up on the top platform sergeant.” His face turned grim as he spoke of the victim.

  “Did you get all the witness statements?”

  “Yep. The first tour bus got quite an eyeful and understandably they’re still pretty upset.”

  Lani looked to the bus where some terrified occupants still looked haunted by what they had seen. Most of the tourists were senior citizens. “Go ahead and release the bus, make sure that you have all of their contact information both here and back home.”

  “On it.” The officer headed to the bus.

  Even though Lani studied grisly homicides and serial crime, it never made it any easier. The anticipation of the reality warped the mind. In just one week he had seen more murder than any cop on the island had seen in their entire careers. He wondered how Emily Stone would proceed as he thought about her beautiful face and tough, but gentle demeanor. She proved instrumental in saving his life and he owed her a debt of gratitude.

  Yellow crime scene tape wound around the metal railing and crossed the entrance. It fluttered slightly in the island breeze. The rain had settled down since early morning and the area remained dry for the investigation. Over to one side, a stack of blue tarps remained folded up in neat squares – just in case.

  Up several cement stairs to a landing, Lani could see the forensic tech photographing the scene, face grim as he moved quickly to get the necessary shots for the investigation – all of the angles and distances.

  Lani took the next few steps to the top viewing landing to see what remained of the body. It slightly differed from the other scenes, but still had the same staged and grotesque appearance.