“But Marsha had been threatened into submission, we’ve more or less surmised. Because she feared for Tommy’s life,” Sam pointed out.
“You’re missing the point, Sam. Serial killers usually duplicate their M.O.’s quite faithfully, especially in sex crimes such as these. Sara’s murderer obviously wanted her to hurt-he deliberately tortured her before doing her in. Marsha’s assailant, however, was merciful in this regard. Had it been the same guy, Marsha most likely would have been beaten to a pulp, too.”
Sam grunted. “This sounds like some overpaid profiler’s pat theory, to me. I’m sure it isn’t carved in granite.”
“You’re right; there are exceptions to every rule. I’m just saying that there are some arguable discrepancies between the killer’s M.O. in each case. The similarities certainly outweigh them, though. And as I already told you, I think that the same guy probably murdered them both.”
Sam took a sip of coffee and said, “This is really scary. If it really is the same guy who killed Marsha and Sara, that puts a whole new perspective on everything.”
Roger’s expression turned grim. “Sure does. If this is indeed the case, it brings up the obvious question of why the murderer zeroed-in on these two particular ladies. In other words, what was his motive?”
“And who might be the next in line,” Sam added solemnly.
“Well, before we start pushing the panic button we need to confirm that the two murders were committed by the same person. Fortunately, that shouldn’t be hard to do. I’m having the lab send the hair and semen samples to Mancuso so he can have them compared to the samples he has. If the DNA’s match, we will have at least gotten that much established.”
“And in the meantime?” Sam asked.
“In the meantime we’re going to find out what these characters have been up to,” Roger replied, gesturing toward the copies of the yearbook Sam was holding.
Sam studied the faces again. Of the four graduates presumably not still living in Smithtown, he knew only two-and hadn’t seen either one of them since high school over twenty years ago. The other two didn’t look familiar at all and judging by the scholastic achievements listed under their pictures, which was zip, neither of them had apparently spent a whole lot of their time within the hallowed halls of Smithtown High.
“Are you going to question everyone here?” he asked Roger.
“Yeah, every single one of them-including the locals.”
“How will you track down the ones who aren’t still living in the area?”
“Well, first we’ll go over records at the post office and the courthouse. Check out change of address records, census reports, and so on. We’ll also enter their names in the computer and see what we come up with. If none of this pans out for someone in particular, we’ll try locating any of their friends and relatives who might still be living in town and go from there. We’ll find them all, eventually. I just hope it happens soon enough.” he added uneasily.
Sam nodded. Although he already knew the answer to his next question, he asked it anyway. “And what about the press?”
Roger shook his head. “Mum’s the word, still-the chief has already informed me.”
Sam groaned in protest. “Why?”
“For the same reasons as before,” he replied. “Listen, buddy. Thompson still doesn’t want to incite any unnecessary panic here. So far, we know nothing more than we did before except that two female Smithtown residents, one of which hasn’t lived here in two decades, have been raped and strangled to death in their homes. Everything else is pure conjecture. Why stir up the dirt now? But I promise you, the minute we find out who murdered Marsha Bradley, you can get them presses rolling. Fair enough?”
Sam didn’t like it, but at the same time had to agree that printing an article about the cases based on pure speculation wasn’t a good idea. Maybe in the New York Post or the Daily News it would float, but definitely not in the ultra-conservative, play-by-the rules Smithtown Observer. Which brought something else to mind. “How is the New York press dealing with Sara Hunt’s murder?” he inquired.
“From the way Mancuso spoke, there’s been little press coverage of the case. Apparently there’s been a bumper crop of murders in the Big Apple lately and the cops are under a lot of pressure, so they’re going with the attitude that they don’t have time to spare for press conferences when they could be out on the streets catching criminals instead. Evidently, it’s working.”
Sam made a mental note to check out the last few weeks’ editions of the New York Times, Post, and the Daily News to see what had been written regarding Sara Hunt’s murder.
“One thing puzzles me, Rog. How come nobody here was informed of Sara Hunt’s death until today? You’d think that someone would have been notified before now.”
“Hell if I know. The only thing I can figure is that Sara apparently no longer has any ties to Smithtown; family or otherwise. She wasn’t born and raised here-her family is originally from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania-and she only lived here for a couple of years. Her family moved back to Pennsylvania not long after Sara’s graduation.”
Sam vaguely recalled now that Sara Hunt had been “the new kid in town” when she started attending Smithtown High her junior year. He said, “She surely made some friends while she was here, though. In fact, I seem to recall that she hung out with Marsha Bradley occasionally, if I’m not mistaken. At any rate, I’d like to at least let the town know that Sara Hunt is dead. It may be old news, but I certainly think it’s worthy of mention.”
Roger thought it over and said, “Okay, go ahead and do it. I don’t think Thompson will give a shit. But don’t even hint that there might be a connection between the two murders. All right?”
“Gee, thanks for letting me do my job, good buddy! I’m forever grateful,” Sam jabbed. In a more serious tone he added, “I won’t tie them in, don’t worry. I’ll just go with the angle, ”Former Local Woman Found Murdered In New York,” or something to that effect. I’d like a recent picture of her though, and some background info if you’ve got any there.”
Roger leafed through the stack of papers lying on the desk and pulled out the New York police report. “I’ll make a copy of this report for you. As for a picture, I’ve already asked Mancuso to send me everything he has as soon as he gets a chance. There’ll probably be a picture of some kind coming.”
“Okay.”
“By the way, when are you going to be done writing the other article? Thompson’s been breathing down my neck to get Marsha’s file back from you.”
“I’m going straight over to the paper and finish it after I leave here. I’ll drop the file off on my way home,” Sam promised.
“Okay. I’m going to take MacPherson and go question some of the Bradley’s neighbors. I’m holding off on questioning Dave again until tomorrow. Give the poor guy a chance to get settled back into his home.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Christ, I really feel for the guy. Imagine going back to that house and trying to get on with your life after what happened there.”
“I’d sure hate to be in his shoes right now, no doubt. He’s got to deal with his kid too, remember. It’s times like this when I feel thankful I’ve never gotten married. All I’ve gotta do is worry about my own fat ass and nobody else’s,” Roger declared.
Sam said, “But the good definitely outweighs the bad in having a family. I wish I still had mine.”
Roger shrugged. “I know you do, buddy. At least they’re still among the living.”
“Thank God for that. Well, I’d better get moving. This article isn’t gonna write itself.”
Roger scooted out of his chair and stood up. “I’ll make those copies for you.”