That statement grabbed Linda’s attention hard. Her breathing was shallow, and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Is this the break we’ve been looking for?
There was utter silence on the line as the thoughts in Linda’s mind competed for attention. The mysterious woman showing up fit the pattern. The murder of Delores Reid fit the pattern.
“Captain Turner?” Malachi inquired.
“Yes, I’m still here. Trying to process these findings. These months of having a heinous crime still unsolved have been unsettling for our department, and this would be a huge break. The woman we’re looking for is very skilled at changing her appearance, so making a positive ID that way could be difficult. However, I do have forensic evidence in the form of a palm print. If we could get prints from this Susannah—what did you say her last name was?”
“It was Baker. But now it’s Williams.”
Linda scribbled the names across the page. “If we get her prints and DNA to make a positive ID, the Hansen case is back on. Before we rush into anything, I’d like you to come to Lincoln ASAP with all the materials you have. If you need me to speak with your superiors, I’m happy to do that.”
“Chief Charlsen mentioned sharing evidence and discussed undertaking a joint investigation. I need time to gather what we have, but I can be in town the day after tomorrow.”
“Great. We’ll find you a place to stay.” She paused, her mind running at full speed. “Besides case files and evidence, can you get me some of those TV tapes of this program? Those are crucial to making a positive identification.”
“Sure, that’s no problem. I’ll contact you tomorrow with my flight itinerary.”
“Thank you, Detective Johnson. I look forward to meeting you and our possible collaboration.”
Linda hung up, her thoughts tripping over one another. The Hansen case was back on.
38
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 4, 2003 LINCOLN, NEBRASKA NORTHEAST POLICE HEADQUARTERS
Linda liked Malachi Johnson immediately. His tall, muscular physique was evidence he worked out and, she thought, was perhaps a former athlete. In reviewing the cases, they found too many similarities for this to be coincidence. They had written the common aspects of both cases on a white board, and similarities were emerging.
Linda knocked on the board. “The mysterious woman showing up seemingly out of thin air fits the pattern. The murder of Delores Reid fits the pattern in the way she was killed. Still, it’s all circumstantial.”
Malachi reached into a bag and produced a half-dozen video tapes. “You asked for videos from the program. Any place we can look at these?”
A television and VCR were set up in Linda’s office and Malachi queued the tape to an image of a woman with medium chestnut hair, ringlets framing her face. Linda motioned to photographs attached to a board. “As you can see, none of these women resemble each other. What matched were fingerprints and an odd half-moon hole on the inside of her right ear. We believe her real name is Pamela Jane Watts. In this photo taken by Catholic Charities we have an overweight girl, with blue eyes, short red hair, and an identifying mole.” Linda pointed to an enhanced photo of the hole. “This appears on every photo except her mug shot. I confirmed the shape was present from birth. At nineteen her hair is shoulder length, a mixture of platinum blonde and black streaks. Again, the mole is present. After her release from prison, she marries her first husband. Her hair is bright copper and the style quite short on her Minnesota driver’s license.” She moved down the row of photos. “Pamela weds her second husband using an assumed name of Susan Nichols. You can see her appearance is strikingly different. She’s wearing a tight blonde perm, big glasses, and she’s heavier, making her look older. On her Nebraska driver’s license she transforms again. As Nicole Hansen, the mole is gone, her nose is smaller, her eyes seem brighter, and her weight is 40 pounds less. She looks closer to her real age and the shag haircut is very flattering in contrast to the perm. I believe she underwent plastic surgery to alter her looks permanently, a nose job and eye lift for sure. Three of her identities involved financial crimes, mainly check forgery and embezzlement. Additionally, embezzling money would provide her with the funds for this type of surgery. If we can determine from these films that Susannah Williams is left-handed, there’s a stronger chance our killers are one and the same.”
“Ah, a southpaw,” Malachi said knowingly. “There was no indication from the ME’s report if Delores’s killer was right- or left-handed.”
The pair began studying the videos. When Susannah appeared facing the camera straight-on, Linda paused the tape and held up the various photos. “We need to find evidence of that shape within her ear.”
“Your hunch about plastic surgery makes sense. I can’t imagine one single person looking so different without surgical help.” Malachi took the remote and fast-forwarded.
“Stop and go back,” Linda commanded, moving in closer to the screen. “There. You can barely see it under the cuff of her blouse, but Mrs. Williams is wearing a watch on her right wrist.” She pointed to the flash of a gold watchband.
“Left-handed,” Malachi said, stroking his neatly trimmed black beard. “Still, we need a person on the inside. I’m thinking an undercover cop who’s familiar with her MO.”
Linda stared at Susannah Williams’s frozen image. “I have an idea, but it may take a few days. Can you stay longer?”
“Sure,” Malachi said.
39
THURSDAY, JUNE 5 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY OFFICES
Cole Leon opened another envelope, looking for a prayer request or donation. Instead all he found was a letter—a very angry letter. He scanned the contents briefly before calling Seth over.
“Hey, Seth, look at this,” he said and scooted his chair closer, so both men could read the missive.
“‘To Whatever the Hell Your Name Is: My name is Michelle Thomas and I’m putting your program, The Road to Calvary on notice that I have filed a complaint with the Missouri Attorney General’s Office, regarding the fraudulent practices of your organization. For the past year, my roommate, Jeanette Morelli, has given nearly every penny she makes to your program, believing your outrageous claims that healing and prosperity will come to those who believe.’”
Cole paused. “I’ve never seen a letter like this before.”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to,” Seth whispered. He read on in low tones. “‘Belief in such nonsense has caused her to be unable to pay rent, help buy groceries, or get her car fixed. I’m not a heartless woman, so instead of kicking Jeanette out, I’m letting her stay. However, I’m using her as an example of how your program, Reverend, along with that cunning wife of yours, prey on the vulnerable. You give people false hope, and I won’t rest until the world knows the truth about you and your program.’”
Cole folded the letter, holding it in his hand ready to speak, but an anxious Seth cut him off. “What are we supposed to do with this?”
Still holding the letter, Cole glanced around the empty mail-room. Satisfied they were alone, he lowered his voice further. “I’m not convinced Ray is at fault here; in fact, he may not even know what’s going on.” He ran a hand over his thinning brown hair. “There’s something I should tell you. I’m picking up extra shifts for more money. I want outta the halfway house.” Cole stopped and pulled his thoughts back on track. “I started noticing late at night Susannah going through the prayer requests being sent to Ray. It started right after they were married. She was here every night I worked. One night, after she’d gone, I went through the requests again, and a third of them were gone. Anything Susannah doesn’t want Ray to see, she removes. I’m betting Ray will never see this letter.”