The Barcode Murders Read online

  CHAPTER 5

  The following morning Alan took Pan out for a long walk after breakfast. It was mid-March and the fickle Columbus weather had gone from cold and snowy to sunny and temperate overnight.

  After his return from Jason’s Pub the night before, he had gone over the case file Mike Draker had given him. As the detective had hinted at beforehand, there was very little new information about the case that he didn’t already know. The only additional material involved the details of the investigation, such as the names of the persons involved and the results of the crime scene forensics along with the coroner’s report.

  One thing that stuck out was how little canvassing had actually been done in the vicinity of where the body had been found. As was the case of Chloe’s disappearance from the school playground, it seemed incredible that nobody interviewed had seen anything suspicious. One possible reason was that there were several entry points into the wooded area, resulting in a lot of potential residences having to be cased out. The investigating police officers would have only interviewed the people that were home over the next few days, leaving some potential witnesses out of the picture.

  So there was a decent chance that somebody had seen something but never reported it in the first place. The killer had not only pulled his crime off without a hitch but apparently had lady luck on his side, too.

  It was still early morning with nobody in the park so Alan unhooked Pan’s leash and flung the Frisbee across the lawn. Like a bolt of lightening, Pan chased after the disk, caught it in her teeth and doubled back at full force. When she reached her master, she dropped her catch and stared up at him for approval.

  “Good girl. Go get it!”

  He hurled the disk again and watched as the dog nailed it in mid air and returned it to his feet.

  While they played catch, Alan mapped out his day. When he got back home, he would set up an appointment to see Travis McPherson. Then he would go check out the site where Chloe’s body had been found. The crime scene photos could only show so much of the total picture. Being there always gave a much clearer perspective.

  Another thing he wanted to do was return to Saint Christopher School to interview the principal and all of the teachers that had been involved in the case. He hoped that they were still there or he would have to try and track them down.

  On his way back, he heard his cellphone chime and checked the caller ID. It was Greg Weller.

  “This is Alan. What’s up Greg?” he said.

  “I just thought I’d let you know the latest since our meeting yesterday. Have you got a minute?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “When I got home from work, Allison was on the phone and I had a feeling it was George Stillman on the other end. So I just nonchalantly smiled at her and said, ‘Is that George you’re talking to?’

  “You should have seen the look on her face, man—it was freaking priceless! She tried her damnedest to keep her cool but she never has been a very good actress. Once she recovered from the initial shock, she asked me who the hell George was. I calmly pulled out the DVD you burned the video on and said, ‘The same George you’re shaking your tits for in this video.’”

  Alan chuckled. “Way too funny.”

  “It gets even better. She suddenly tells whoever is on the phone that she’d better get off and then starts coming toward me like she’s going to grab the DVD. I turn around and head for the family room where the DVD player is as she’s pulling my arm, begging me not to play it. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t even trying to deny it! So while she’s trying frantically to take the disk from me, I’m turning on the TV and I cue up the video. By now she’s in tears, knowing that she has not only been had, but that she is now going to have to find some other fool to support her lame ass after I file for divorce.”

  “There you go. So what happened next?”

  “Let’s just say that I never even got to the juicy part. The moment she saw George pull up to his apartment and hold the car door open for her, she knew she was screwed. Then she all of a sudden got defensive and said, ‘Okay, so what are you going to do about it?’ I told her that I had already lined up an appointment with my lawyer and that I’m going to file for divorce. She went into hysterics, then. And all the time she’s bawling and whining, I’m smiling.

  “I’ll tell you, Alan, I even surprised myself at how much satisfaction I was getting out of this. After you showed me the video and I had time to take it all in and think it through, I realized that my relationship with Allison has more or a less been a sham from day one. She doesn’t give a shit about me—never did. She’s just a gold-digger. Deep inside I sort of guessed that, but I was in severe denial. This video brought me around. It’s the best thing that could’ve happened and I want to thank you for all you’ve done.”

  Will wonders ever cease? Alan thought. “Well, you’re certainly welcome Greg. And I’m glad this has had a good outcome.”

  “Plenty of other women out there. Well, I’ll let you go. Thanks again.”

  Alan had a smile on his face when he disconnected, envisioning Greg Weller letting his cheating wife have it. Good for him.

  When he got home, Alan located Travis McPherson’s business card, called the office and asked the receptionist to connect him. After she asked who was calling he was told that McPherson was in a meeting and would return his call. Alan left his cell number.

  He filled his travel mug with fresh coffee, packed the copies of the crime scene photos into his camera bag and took off. He decided to take Pan along, knowing that the border collie mix would appreciate another walk—especially one through the woods.

  It took him twenty minutes to locate the ravine where Chloe McPherson’s body had been found. He parked on a street that skirted the ravine on the east side along its entire length. He hooked up Pan and walked over to where a footpath cut along the side of the steep hill and would eventually take him to the bottom.

  With Pan in tow, Alan made his way along the path a short distance and then stopped. He took out the crime scene photos and found one of several wide shots taken from approximately where he was now standing. An X drawn in yellow grease pencil showed the spot where Chloe’s body was found. It was next to impossible to ascertain where the X marked the spot in the scene before him because of the overgrown vegetation seen in the photograph. The crime had occurred in late spring and the vegetation had been lush. The ravine was now virtually barren with nothing but bare trees, dead leaves, fallen branches and other debris covering the ground. He studied the photo closely, looking for a visible landmark amongst the leaf-shrouded trees. Then he noticed a large dead tree extending across the ravine that was the same as the one he saw about fifty yards ahead. The X appeared to be another twenty or thirty yards beyond that.

  Pan sniffed her way along the path as Alan drew nearer to the fallen tree. He stopped every twenty yards or so to scope out any homes he could see above the ravine with a clear view of the bottom. There were only a few houses visible to the west but four or five along the east perimeter. He got out his DSLR, took a long shot of each house and a wide-angle shot each of the east and west banks of the ravine.

  He reached the fallen tree and stopped to take another look at one of the close-up crime scene photos. In one shot he could see Chloe’s tiny body taken after the debris that covered her had been carefully removed. In the background of the shot he could just make out a small portion of the fallen tree. He looked down and estimated about where the photo had been taken from and made a sharp beeline to the very bottom of the ravine.

  After another fifteen yards or so he stopped again, turned around and pointed his Nikon toward the ground. Referring to the photo, he zoomed out until he caught the edge of the tree in the photo, walked a bit further along and stopped when he felt he had approximately the same perspective as the police photographer had.

  Although there was no longer any crime scene tape or markers of any kind he spotted something that confirmed he was very close to the actual site where Chloe had been found: a weathered plastic vase with several dead roses still protruding from it.

  A memorial tribute to Chloe McPherson.

  He poked around and found what looked like another bunch of flowers that had a year ago marked Chloe’s makeshift grave. He set his lens to its widest angle and shot a three hundred sixty degree panorama of the entire ravine from this perspective in a series of overlapping shots. He would later stitch the scene together in Photoshop, providing him with a good look at the possible entry points from which the killer had carried Chloe’s body.

  Pan frantically sniffed the area as if she could still detect the scent of death, giving Alan a cold chill. He had never been comfortable being around dead bodies and although Chloe’s body was long gone, the crime scene photos filled in the blanks and lent an eerie semblance of reality to the area. It was almost unimaginable to think that this little girl had been tossed here like she was so much trash, robbed of her young life—

  All for what? he wondered. Why had this monster carried out such an evil deed?

  He intended to find out.

  A few moments later he left the scene, continuing along the bottom of the ravine toward the other side. As before, he stopped to photograph any houses overlooking the area from which somebody might have spotted the killer that day. Five minutes later, he reached the end and took a path that led to the top of the ravine’s other side.

  He stopped, looked around and studied the crime scene photos again. His guess was that the killer had entered from this side of the ravine. For one thing, it was the closest entry point to where the body was dumped. Secondly, the bank wasn’t nearly as steep as it was on the other side. Although Chloe probably weighed no more than forty or fifty pounds, the killer would want to work as quickly and efficiently as possible to be rid of his burden.

  Of course he could have entered from either of the narrower sides of the ravine, but that seemed less likely. To do so, he would have had to park very near the bank, which would have attracted more attention than parking on the street and then travelling the short distance to either of the longer sides.

  Chloe’s body had been found in the early evening, just as it was beginning to get dark outside. What baffled him was why the killer had chosen this place to dump her body in the first place. There were much safer places further away from civilization than this ravine, which had houses within plain sight of it.

  Even more puzzling was why he hadn’t waited until it got dark before bringing the body here to dump. Like the child’s abduction, the entire crime had been committed in broad daylight. Either this guy enjoyed being a risk taker or was a complete idiot.

  Either way he had apparently pulled the whole thing off without being seen by anybody. At least it seemed that way so far.

  Alan headed over to the small clearing that served as an entrance to the ravine from the street. When he emerged from the woods, he scoped the area and could easily imagine the killer parking close by. Not only were the nearest houses a block away, the street seemed fairly obscure.

  The killer could have parked along this street, removed Chloe from the trunk or backseat, heaved her over his shoulder and arrived at where he had dumped her in about ten minutes’ time. Not so impossible to pull off the more he thought about it.

  To be on the safe side, he could have even trekked down into the ravine to case it out for any possible onlookers beforehand and then returned to get Chloe.

  Maybe this guy wasn’t that amazing after all.

  Alan elected not to canvass the area—at least not now. He could always return but now he had more pressing things to do. Like interviewing Chloe’s father and the staff at St. Christopher.

  He also wanted to take a look at the physical evidence collected in the case if Mike Draker could arrange it. Hopefully he wouldn’t have any problems with that.

  He opted to circle the block to get back to his car and took his time along the way. He had just rounded the corner when his phone buzzed. The caller ID read UrbanGroup Financial.

  “Alan Swansea.”

  “Hello Mr. Swansea, Travis McPherson here. I was told that you called earlier and I’m returning your call.”

  “Yes, thanks. I met with your wife yesterday regarding your daughter’s investigation and was hoping that we could set up an appointment to meet some time soon.”

  “That could be arranged. What time would be best for you?”

  “Anytime, really. I’m flexible.”

  Alan could hear a shuffling of papers as McPherson checked his appointments.

  “How does late tomorrow morning sound—say ten-thirty?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Do you know how to find us?”

  “You’re downtown off of High Street, right?”

  “Yes. Our office is on the eleventh floor.”

  “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow at ten-thirty. Thanks Mr. McPherson.”

  “No problem.”

  Alan was looking forward to meeting the infamous Travis McPherson. He knew very little about the man, other than the fact that he was regional director of UrbanGroup financial services and well known around town for his involvement in sponsorship of worthwhile causes like United Way and cleaning up urban blight. He seemed like a genuine do-gooder with a lot of money to throw around and had quite a bit of political influence in city government.

  And he had been very close to his murdered daughter.

  There had been one thing that stood out like a sore thumb during his meeting with McPherson’s wife: According to her, Travis had initially seemed apathetic toward efforts to find his daughter’s killer. Something about that didn’t make sense. No matter how devastated and heartbroken one may be over the loss of a loved one, and more specifically the murder of one’s young daughter, what father would not be seething with anger and wanting nothing more than to track down and punish the perpetrator? Yet the way his wife described it, her husband was just too overwhelmed to give a shit about vengeance since it could never bring his daughter back.

  Either Travis McPherson was emotionally crippled or there was something else going on here.

  Mike Draker seemed satisfied that McPherson was innocent of any wrongdoing in Chloe’s death. Although he respected the detective’s opinion, he would feel better if he was as convinced as well. Then he could let go of the lingering suspicion he was now feeling toward the man. Granted, McPherson had a solid alibi on that day. And he was genuinely devastated by the loss of his beloved Chloe.

  But it would take more than that to clear the man from his short suspect list. Alibis could be fabricated and love for his daughter to the nth power didn’t exempt him from murdering her. There was a remote chance that the old man could have screwed something up and been forced to kill her for some reason.

  Stranger things had certainly happened.

  Hopefully he would learn more tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was much colder than the day before and Alan had to turn on the Pilot’s heater as he headed toward I-71. Traffic was relatively light along the freeway and he had no problem finding an open parking garage close to UrbanGroup’s downtown office.

  When he reached the eleventh floor he did a double take when he saw who was standing behind the reception desk. The woman recognized him at the same time.

  “Alan!” she exclaimed.

  “Amanda,” Alan replied. “It’s sure been a long time.”

  “Too long. The last time I saw you was at the, uh, funeral. So how have you been?”

  “Not bad. I’m surviving, anyway.”

  “Well, you look great. So what brings you here?”

  “I’ve got an appointment with Mr. McPherson.”

  Amanda took a quick look at her computer screen.

  “Oh, there it is—I didn’t make the connection when I was looking over my appointments this morning. You have a few minutes, so why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve been up to?”

  Alan summarized his life since his wife’s funeral, leaving out the part that he had all but become a hopeless drunk soon afterwards. Suddenly seeing Julie’s former college roommate after all this time put him off guard. Amanda Linville had been close to Julie and was as devastated by her death as he had been. She had been like an angel at Julie’s funeral, comforting him as best as she could while at the same time trying to keep her own emotions in check. The girl was a lot stronger than he could ever hope to be.

  “So why haven’t you called me in all this time?” Amanda said. “You promised me you would, remember?”

  “I know I did. And I apologize. I just didn’t want to drag anyone else into my bottomless pit of self-pity. It was really rough at first, Amanda, as you can imagine. I just wasn’t fit for anyone to be around.”

  “And I won’t hold that against you. But promise me one thing—that you’ll take me out for a drink some time.”

  “Okay, you’re on.”

  The petite brunette smiled. He’d never noticed her dimples before. “Great! But I want a commitment now before I let you get away. How would tonight be? Or is that too soon?”

  His reply came out before giving it a second thought. “No, that would be perfect. Where do you want to meet?”

  “There’s a place in German Village with the best margaritas—Mockingjays, named after The Hunger Games. Funky little place at Beck and High Street.”

  “Sounds awesome. Nine o’clock?”

  “Wonderful. I can’t wait!”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence. For some reason his head was spinning and he had almost forgotten what he was there for.

  “So let me check to see if my boss is ready to see you,” Amanda said.

  She picked up the phone and punched in a number.

  “He can see you now. Just head down that hall and his office is on the right—you can’t miss it.”