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

victims of car accidents and animal bites. There’d been no end to black-on-black crime. In Kansas City, Missouri and beyond, blacks destroyed one another at alarming rates.
Overstreet stationed his body in the hallway just across from the emergency room.
“Code ninety-nine, shock-trauma unit! Code ninety-nine, shock-trauma unit!” shouted a pair of veteran nurses, as they rushed a shooting victim inside the emergency room.
“Everybody clear!” a hyped surgeon ordered, the nurses signaling they’d been ready.
“Check vital signs.”
“IVs ready to be inserted.”
More bodies ended up inside the morgue in one year at the Harry S. Truman Medical Center than people visiting an amusement park in a day’s time. The scenario grew sadder. Where did the law fall short? Overstreet exited the hospital en route to headquarters to dive back into current homicide cases.


CHAPTER—45

Positive identifications were made of the latest two victims of the Brush Creek killer. DNA evidence was linked to the filth who’d been going around killing and dumping black women along bushes and trails in Gillham Park. Had Overstreet and the homicide division at the KCPD headquarters made any progress? Time was surely the answer to such a question. Overstreet and Carey and others learned how one of their victims had been identified as Amy Alex, a Chicago native who’d been camping around Kansas City for several years.
The other victim was identified as Chloe Harden. Chloe made a name for herself along the corridors of Independence Avenue. A known drug addict and prostitute, rumor had it how she’d been trying to clean her life up and go straight. Getting off the streets and finding a church home were her future plans. Tragically, those plans never fell through. Being an easy target, she met her deadly fate when she hopped into a car with her killer. The man responsible for exterminating the first hooker on Independence Avenue was also to blame for her murder.
Overstreet spurred into action a special briefing conference. The Gillham Park killer had supposedly been taken off the streets. The interrogation hung in the balances. Now the Brush Creek killer had to be taken out of commission. No longer could they tolerate the jerk who outsmarted them. Inside the roll call and briefing room on the third floor of headquarters, an assembly of notable law enforcement heavy hitters were in attendance. The chief of police, sheriffs, select police officers, FBI Agents, and the entire homicide division, they all gathered around a table with reports and stats and documentation for future reference.
A large digital screen and power zoom digital projector were set up for investigative purposes. Cups of warm coffee and pastries were lined along the oakwood table. Overstreet came armed with enough evidence to put them on the trail of the Brush Creek killer. Special guest Dr. Lynus Madrey decided to make more than just a cameo appearance after being summoned by the special victims and homicide units. Dr. Madrey had the expertise to pick apart the minds of the sickest criminals walking on American soil.
“We’re going to go ahead and get started,” Overstreet announced to his esteemed colleagues. “Words are never enough to tell all of you how honored I am to have you come together. With masterful and skilled police and detective work, the Gillham Park suspect has been apprehended. Go ahead and give yourselves a hand.”
The conference room broke out into congratulatory applauses.
“A couple’a days ago, I was over at Truman Medical Center inside the morgue with Doc McKinnis,” Overstreet annunciated, nursing his usual cup of warm coffee. “Our last two victims, both found floating around the Brush Creek waters inside large trashbags, were killed and mutilated in the same fashion as the first two victims.”
All parties watched as Overstreet sat a sheet of paper on top of the projector.
The clarity of the document had no one straining their eyes. So much for digital technology.
“We’ve been working fourteen to sixteen hour days with these cases,” Overstreet continued. “Seven days a week have gotten me grouchier than an old man living out his last days in a nursing home. Pulling those last two victims from the creek waters drew the line for me. Finding answers have been tough.”
“Jerry, our perp is different from any other type of serial killer,” Carey spoke in a nostalgic voice. “We know for certain that the same person is responsible for all four murders.”
“You’re right, Carey. Doc McKinnis is the best medical examiner in all of Jackson County. He knows that our suspect is definitely a shellshocked, insane, yet psychotic Vietnam Veteran. We can’t let him strike again.”
“The increasing time for the murders have been over a series of months.”
“Which is atypical for most serial killers.”
“This disturbed psycho is leading the race.”
Overstreet slid the first document off the projector. He replaced it with an even more important one. A chart displaying a series of murders involving women within a thirty year period came into clear focus.
“Guys, half of the eighty murders that occurred here in the city happened in six cluster time frames,” Overstreet articulated for his colleagues. “The first cluster was 1977. Ten murders occurred in the black community, the victims being between the ages of thirteen and twenty-seven. Seven had police records for prostitution and were well-known to the police. Six of the ten were found nude and had been strangled. We maintained that no one person killed all ten of these women. Only five of the ten cases were eventually solved, three others not considered.”
The statistics raised a few eyebrows.
“Wasn’t Swope Park the dumping ground for those bodies?” Carey asked his superior.
“There and other places,” Overstreet unveiled for prior investigative purposes. “The second cluster was 1982-83. The bodies of six women, many of them tied to drugs and prostitution, were all were found gagged and bound. All six of them were black. We discounted a serial killer theory, even though the cases were assigned to one squad. Three of those killings have gone unsolved.”
“Those were the years when prostitutes were frightened out of their wits,” commented Captain George Parks, also a veteran of the KCPD homicide division.
“And for good reason,” Overstreet fathomed. “The third cluster was from 1986-87. The bodies of eight women were found outdoors in city parks. Six of the eight were white women, the other two being black. These victims were prostitutes, drug users, and homeless women. Six of the eight were found nude and strangled, their bodies in sexually suggestive positions. All eight homicides remained unsolved.”
“The years 1986 and 1987 were two of the scariest to be living in the city,” Sergeant Raymond Lambert recalled during his service with the KCPD.
“They certainly were, Ray, to say the least,” Overstreet agreed. “The fourth cluster was in 1988. The bodies of four white prostitutes were fished from the Missouri River during a four day period in June of 1988. One of the four victims had been stabbed in the chest thirty-three times. Two out of the four had been stabbed and partially dismembered. All four were tied to prostitution along Independence Avenue. None of the four cases have been solved.”
The group of law enforcement elite were mesmerized by the speech Overstreet conducted with such professionalism and expertise.
The chart outlined the series of murders with great insight.
“The next cluster was in 1989,” Overstreet moved on, coating his throat with a final sip of his coffee. “Three women who were convicted prostitutes and known drug users, were found dead in remote areas throughout the city, one having been stabbed multiple times and set on fire. All three were white and worked long stretches of Independence Avenue and Paseo and Gladstone Avenue. All three cases went unsolved.”
“In the game of solving homicides, you win some, you lose some,” Carey assumed, studying the chart under scrupulous directives.
“In the game of life, there’ll always be winners and losers. Solving homicides is no different. Cases turn cold and we end up not solving a lot of them. Our sixth and final cluster brings us into the present. It’s the year 2009 and four bodies of white women have been found dumped in trashbags in Brush Creek within a six month period. Thirteen bodies of black women have been found nude and strangled in Gillham Park within nine months. After intense interrogation tactics, I believe our Gillham Park killer will confess to the murders. As for the Brush Creek killings, that’s where we turn to our criminal analyst, Dr. Lynus Madrey. Dr. Madrey, this psychotic monster has puzzled us into a thousand migraines. What can you possibly tell us about him?”
“Most serial killers just don’t stop killing,” Dr. Madrey began, raising from his seat. “Killing innocent people can be a mental health problem moreso than the killer’s morals failing him or severe disorders in his character. Anyone who goes around strangling women to death, and then mutilating their body parts, is considered to be barbarically anti-female.”
“Could our Brush Creek killer be anti-female?” Overstreet asked, Dr. Madrey having popped one of those questionable bubbles inside his head.
“Yes he could. His negativity towards women is strong enough to make him a recluse.”
“Making him have little or no contact with friends or family.”
“Exactly, detective. Strangling and dismembering women also categorizes him as having developed pathological killing appetites. Neurobiological imbalances could be the basis for his problems. The Brush Creek killer could also suffer from impaired sensory-emotional integration. Less activity in certain parts of his brain could regulate and control his emotions and behavior.”
“Doc Madrey, this maniac doesn’t know how to put on the brakes when it comes to stop killing.”
“Runaway aggressive behavior is what it’s called. With violent criminals like the Brush Creek killer, the gray matter of his brain holds only about ten percent fewer neurons in the prefrontal cortex than the brains of most of the general population.”
“The bodies he’s left behind in the trashbags inside the creek waters, they’ve turned into sheer homicidal messes and confusing crime scenes. A couple’a months ago, we posted up two of our best police officers, and look what he did. He assaulted those officers and killed one of our best canines. After he got his hands bloody, he crawled through one of the longest tunnels in Brush Creek, then made the dirtiest getaway I’ve ever seen. We’re dealing with one of the sickest individuals ever born into humankind.”
Carey vaulted into the discussion with his signature opinions. “Trying to apprehend the Brush Creek killer