Chapter Two
Diane Crowley had lived at 1410 Deacon Street for just over three years. She had moved in with her two daughters when she left her husband after he decided that gambling and drinking were more important than feeding his family. She worked at Teller’s, a local paper mill on the south side of town. She also bartended part time at Lou’s Pub, next door to her apartment. Her downstairs neighbor told Kevin that she had sat with the girls while Diane worked nights and after school while they waited for her to get home from her day job. She said that Diane was a very quiet woman, no visitors, and rarely a sound from the apartment. The children where well mannered and always cared for. She was just a good woman trying desperately to take care of her family all on her own. She said she had met the ex-husband on a couple of occasions. Always seemed to be an angry man, who didn’t have much time to spend with his girls. The last time had been about six months before.
Kevin and Tully walked the area around the parking lot not speaking. Tully understood that his partner needed some space, no matter the circumstances of a crime scene. He had a thousand questions, but knew they could wait, if only for a little while. Tully knew that he just needed to be quiet. Let his partner do his thing. He had relied on him to do that for their entire partnership, knowing that the true detective in this pairing was not himself.
They discovered the victim’s car parked near the rear of the lot. The doors were not locked and nothing of value was found inside. There were a few toys in the backseat, to keep the girls occupied during trips to the market and such. There was a map of the area and the normal vehicle identification papers in the glove compartment. It wasn’t until Kevin sat in the driver’s seat and reached under the seat that he discovered something of interest.
“Tully,” Kevin said, as he raised up out of the car; “What would a woman like this need with a gun?”
Kevin held a shiny twenty-two caliber revolver in his hand. Not a gun that will normally kill in one shot, but it will stop a man long enough for the shooter to get distance and get away. What was this woman scared of?
Carlton was a normal small town in central Pennsylvania. A population of about thirty-five thousand people, mostly low to middle class, hard working people. Most of the crime in the area involved petty theft, domestic disturbances, and the normal weekend bar incidents. This was the first murder in over a year. The first multiple murder in almost ten years. Things like this just didn’t happen here. It’s the reason that Kevin came back here at all. To get away from this kind of crime.
“We need to talk, Kevin. The message on the door, it’s for you, right? But, how the hell…?”
Kevin took a plastic evidence bag from his pocket and placed the now unloaded weapon in the bag. He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote the location, time, and description of the find on the tag and sealed the bag. All this without saying a word, as if he never heard a question.
“Kevin, man…come on. You have to talk to me. What the hell is going on? What does ‘I’m back.” mean?”
“I’m not sure, Tully.”
“Are you saying that message wasn’t for you? Her ex is named Carl. It wasn’t for him. It sure as hell wasn’t for me. Your face went white as a sheet when you saw it. Come on, tell me…you have seen this before, right?”
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He stayed in a motel for the six months that he stayed in Flint after the murder of his family. He papered the walls with every report, every crime scene photo, and every piece of the medical examiner’s evaluation on the walls. He spent all his free time studying every word. After two months, the trail went cold. No leads came in. No suspects could be identified.
He had left no fingerprints. There was no DNA left behind, not even a hair. The case went cold in month three. But, he couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop searching every inch of the file to find something that had to have been missed. The only thing he couldn’t do was go back in that house.
His wife, Patricia, had been found in her bed. There was no sign of sexual trauma. The medical examiner’s report showed that she was probably already dead before the cutting started. She had been found posed on the bed they had shared, where they had created life. Laid out with her feet together, her arms spread out at her sides, and her hands bent backward, broken at the wrist. There were ligature marks around her neck, at least three different lines of pressure, which suggested that she was choked to the point of passing out and then revived. The cuts came later. Over one hundred stab wounds to her torso, legs and arms. The only part of her body left untouched was her face.
His son, Brandon, was found in his bed. He was wrapped in a bloody bed sheet. His throat had been cut and the examiner said that he died within seconds. No other wounds were found on his small body. His suffering had been minimal. At least, that is what Kevin had to believe.
The walls in both rooms were covered in blood. The pattern of the stains suggested an almost mosaic pattern. This, with the positioning of the body suggested a religious overtone to the investigators that worked the case. A ritual killing. Kevin couldn’t put his finger on it, but that never seemed right to him.
And the message that was left on the closet door confirmed it for him.
“Hi, Kevin. Wanna play?”
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The Carlton police station was the oldest building in town. Built as a civil war armory, it had been reconditioned and renovated twenty years ago to become the station and local jail The history of the building always intrigued Kevin, even when he was a kid growing up in this small town. His chance to work here always seemed special to him. And the building just made it feel like coming home.
He had grown up about four blocks from the station. His parents had lived here their entire lives, high school sweethearts that never wanted to leave the town where they had found their true soul mates. His father, Edwin, had worked in city government as the parks commissioner and as deputy mayor. His mother was a stay at home mom that spent her time at charity events, church raffles, and taking care of her family. Kevin was an only child, but a handful. By the time he was ten, his talent for sports was obvious. He excelled at everything that he tried on any field, but his passion was football.
He stood at 6’ 2” by the time he was a sophomore. Perfect size for a quarterback. The fact that he had a gun for an arm only made it easier for him to become the varsity starter that year. His ability to run made him an almost unstoppable weapon. His team went to state championships every year, winning in his junior and senior years. He shattered school records and was the hands down leader of the team.
His parents attended every game, no matter whether they were home or away, no matter the distance. Always sitting just high enough in the stands so that he could find them, easily seen with their team jackets and large foam fingers. His biggest fans.
The Homecoming Game in his senior year was to be his coming out party. College scouts had been in the area for the last two weeks looking over the seniors that would be graduating the following spring and to get a look at the juniors who would soon follow. Kevin had already been approached by many schools, but had not decided where he wanted to go. He wanted to stay close to home. He hadn’t spent one night away from his parents since he could remember. Not only his biggest fans, but his best friends. He sought them out for every decision, every life question. And he just never could imagine living without them.
The locker room before the Homecoming Game was quiet. Coach Reynolds was never known for his stirring pre-game pep talks, a dour man who just grunted plays and let the boys play. Kevin had started early in his high school career being the leader of the team. He would hold the team back at the doors leading to the field just as the coaches had left the room. He would give them everything he could to pump them up, to get them ready for the battles that seemed so important to them. On this night, it was different. On this night, the world was watching.
“Okay, we all know what’s coming. Tate is a tough school…a tough team. But, we have beaten them before and we can beat them now. We just need to be on the same page all the time. Work as a team. Forget who’s out there. Forget the crowd all together. Just think, this is the game that we have tonight. No other game is important now. No stat is important except the score. Let’s just work together. If we do that, no one can beat us. No one.”
He stood there staring at his teammates. He saw the look in their eyes. They were ready. So, he raised his head, and like every time before, said the words that signaled it was time to kick ass and take names.
“Gentleman, lets play!”
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Article from the Carlton Blotter, Nov, 1988
Carlton: An auto accident claimed the lives of Edwin and Tammy Orton sometime around 10 pm on Friday night. Sheriffs on the scene could not determine the cause of the one car accident. Emergency crews at the scene discovered the couple still belted into their seats and no apparent skid marks were found on the roadway. Ambulance personnel transported the Orton’s to Carlton Memorial Hospital, where they were pronounced dead on arrival from apparent head trauma.
Edwin Orton had served his community as Parks Commissioner during the seventies and currently held the position of Deputy Mayor of Carlton. They are survived by their son, Kevin.
Foul play has been currently ruled out.
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The funeral was held a week after the Homecoming Game. Kevin, being 18 years old, was allowed to stay in the home and finish school. Both of his parents, being only children themselves, had no siblings to come to care for him and he didn’t really want anyone around anyway.
He signed with Michigan State before the end of his senior season. He felt he just needed to get away. He needed a fresh start to leave the ghosts of his life behind. Most of the town was crushed that he hadn’t chosen Penn State or Pitt, somewhere close where they could still go see him do what he did so well. But, he was angry. He felt his father had given his whole life to the town, he owed them nothing. So, in the summer of 1989, he got in his car, U-Haul trailer attached to the bumper, and headed northwest…to a new life. To starting over.
And he thought he would never look back.
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