Brush Creek Charlie - D. B. Reynolds (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📗

every word of it, too.”
Sandy showed Derrick her serious, militant side.
Sandy dug into her jeans pocket and produced a means of contact. “Derrick, here’s my card, so you can get into contact with me.”
“Sisters Against Violent Encounters,” Derrick read to himself. “Ladies, you don’t have to be a victim. You can be the victor. Such a strong message behind a clever acronym. Can you remember my number?”
Sandy fished around in her pockets and came up with her cell phone. “Okay, go ahead and give it to me.”
“753-4410.”
“Got it.”
“When you’re ready to make a move, please give me a call. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping a real close eye on Charlie.”
“Not a split-second later.”
Derrick and Sandy had now forged a partnership to hopefully save future lives. Time was truly of the essence. Them joining forces was crucial. The forces of good challenged the forces of evil. They were close to stopping the murderous cycle fueled by a psychotic, shell-shocked Vietnam War Veteran.


CHAPTER—44

Dr. Anthony McKinnis of the Jackson County Medical Examiner’s Office had plenty of answers to pour on top of Overstreet. He sure appreciated all the hard work and dedication shown by Dr. McKinnis during such times of murderous escapades. One body of a murder victim turned up after another. Being in the game of solving homicides, Overstreet knew killers never took days off. But one killer he so desperately wanted to retire was the Brush Creek killer. How the maniac had gotten away for this length of time still puzzled him to no end.
To him, garbage thrown out everyday by people got more respect. No positive identifications were made on either of the two victims. On top of two separate autopsy tables, Dr. McKinnis had set both badly-dismembered torsos on top. The limbs of the victims were placed on top of the small-parts dissection table. Overstreet couldn’t help but notice the cuts and burn marks across the torso of the other victim. A tattoo of someone’s name bursting into an open heart had been designed into the right arm of the opposite victim.
“Alright, Doc,” Overstreet hooted, trying to circumvent dangerous levels of frustration. “I’m afraid to ask, but are we possibly dealing with the same perp as before?”
“The answer remains the same,” Dr. McKinnis affixed. “Unfortunately, our perp is right back to his old games, the same tricks he’s been accustomed to for a long time.”
“Two bodies found within close proximity in the Brush Creek waters, it’s more than just a coincidence, Doc.”
“I have the medical evidence to back up your conclusions.”
“Like what?”
Overstreet stretched out a pair of surgical gloves and placed them over both hands.
Dr. McKinnis closed in on the victim’s torsos with two beaming lamps. “Detective, after X-rays and multiple photographs, and one exam after another, both of our vics here suffered from ligature strangulation. The veins in their necks were severely compressed, which interrupted normal arterial blood flow to their brains and hearts. Hands as strong as vice grips crushed their spinal cords and dislocated their vertebraes.”
“So, his killing methods are the same. The purplish marks around their necks were, of course, caused by the strangulation itself.”
“Correct you are, detective. It gets even more interesting. I collected blood and urine samples from both vics, sending them off to the lab for toxicology reports.”
“Did the lab find anything of interest?”
“Should be of interest to all parties involved. Traces of Agent Orange were found in blood samples from our perp. Trace amounts of the toxic contaminant Dioxin showed up heavily concentrated in those very samples. As I explained to you before, detective, that dioxin contains carcinogenic or teratogenic heterocyclic which occurs as impurities in the body.”
“Our perp is without a doubt a war veteran. Question, doc.”
“Okay.”
“Is there any chance that our perp suffers from a skin condition like acne or blackheads or cysts?”
“Enormous chance, detective. Traces of the chemical substance chloracne were found in the blood sample.”
“Explain to me what chloracne is.”
“Chloracne is a skin condition marked by blackheads and pimples in people who are in contact with chemical compounds such as cutting oils, paints, varnishes, and dioxin. The condition usually affects the face, arms, neck, and any other exposed areas.”
“Would you say that when he killed both of them by strangulation, that his blood possibly mixed with their’s, possibly dropping down onto some of their body parts?”
“Precisely, since he could’ve suffered a skin laceration during his attack on the vics.”
Overstreet reached into his memory bank. “Doc, could you tell me if the perp is dying from cancer or some other type of ailment?”
“Very strong possibility. With a high exposure to Dioxin from the Agent Orange, he’s possibly at the highest level of cancer.”
“Therefore, he could be dying slowly.”
Dr. McKinnis fished up a chart from the lab. “Doesn’t stop there, detective. Our perp suffers from PTSD.”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?”
“Correct, my friend.”
“How do you know that?”
“Toxicology reports show high concentration levels of anti-depressant medications.”
“With all the murders he’s committed, it’s a wonder if he takes his medications like he should. Did toxicology say which anti-depressant medications this monster was on?”
“Xanax and Prozac, just to name a couple.”
“Could it be that these drugs have caused more harm than good?”
“Studies have proven that some of the side effects are suicide, hallucinations, deeper depression, illusions, shakiness, and fatigue.”
“Those illusions and hallucinations could’ve led him to have flashbacks of his time in Vietnam, which could’ve led him to murder these women.”
“Could be quite conclusive, detective.”
“Makes you wonder, who’s really to blame? Can we blame these soliders who come back from war all screwed up, or can we blame the same government who sends them to war on foreign battlefields? He’s responsible for all the Brush Creek murders.”
Overstreet didn’t want to sound disrespectful to the government, but their person of interest had no respect for human life. Chopping up women and putting them in trashbags, it shattered the image of a society in which people were supposed to be civil and sane.
“Doc, what’d you find out about their amputation or dismemberment?”
“Same as other vics found in Brush Creek,” Dr. McKinnis disclosed. He moved the lamps closer to the where Overstreet got the best view of the amputations, starting with the limbs. “Our perp knows how to cut and where to cut. As with other vics, if you’ll notice here around the Pectoralis Majors, and on up to the Sternocleidomastoid muscles, the process of dissecting the limbs away from the body were created. Now, the process of dissecting the lower limbs away from the body occurred when the Quadriceps femoris and Tibalis anteriors were sliced into.”
“The weapon of choice?”
“The deep effective penetration of the skin and muscles and bones came only from a Full Tang Monster Machete, the same kind used over in the jungles of Vietnam to chop away tall vegetation.”
“The same instrument used to mutilate the bodies of the other vics?”
“Right again, detective. The serrated blade of this machete has the power to cut through tough metal alloys. Imagine how effective it is when used to dismember human bodies?”
“You’re right, Doc. First, he strangles them with his bare hands. Second, he dismembers their bodies. Third, and possibly last, he throws the body parts into large, industrial-strength trashbags, and then dumps them into Brush Creek.”
“His modus operandi appears to be the same everytime.”
“Anything else of significance that I need to know about either of our vics?”
Dr. McKinnis brushed off his green surgical scrubs from excess debris. “Our first vic is a white female, middle twenties, well-nourished, who appears to have led a semi-clean lifestyle. Toxicology found no traces of narcotics in her system, but there was a heavy concentration of alcohol in her blood.”
“Could’ve been a heavy social drinker?”
“It’s possible.”
“Is it possible that she died on or around Thanksgiving day?”
“Given her blood alcohol content, it’s a strong possibility.”
“Our second vic, what’s her story?”
“Not good, detective,” Dr. McKinnis denounced. “My autopsy exam indicates she was a ‘Lady of the Night’. Heavy traces of narcotics were found in her system. Needles marks along her arms, paraphernalia burns on her fingers, and results from the lab, told me that she’d been using both heroin and crack. Blood samples proved that she’d been HIV positive. Genital herpes were found all around her genitals.”
“Not the exact type of woman you’d wanna pick up. Her drug and alcohol levels were at an all-time high. If that psychotic parasite didn’t kill her first, the streets would’ve done so. My guess is that she came from off of Independence Avenue. Look Doc, how soon can you have both autopsy reports for me?”
“No later than tomorrow.”
“We can’t afford to let another body turn up in Brush Creek. The mayor and the chief have started to saddle up the department and they’re riding us like Broncos. The people of the city are starting to complain to the heavy guys up there in Washington. The autopsy reports for the Gillham Park vics, how’re they coming along?”
“My office is backed up, but we’ve put top priorities on those reports.”
“These cases can’t turn up cold on us. This insanity has got to stop.”
“We’re doing our best, detective.”
“A magnificent job you’re doing. See you tomorrow, doc.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
Leaving the Harry S. Truman Medical Center, Overstreet had come towards the emergency room. Sights going into the emergency room were grotesquely sad. Mainly African-Americans, the victims were inches from death. Some were rushed in on gurneys after being shot, stabbed, burned or beaten. Others were