Brush Creek Charlie, D. B. Reynolds [top non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

The chief and the mayor are already crying about overspending and budget cuts.”
“But what about people’s lives? This animal is going to keep on killing. He’s going to keep on making us look like a bunch’a idiots who couldn’t catch a fly swarming around super glue.”
“Carey, believe me, our day will come. And guess what, my friend? Our day will come sooner than the both of us think. Nothing lasts forever, not even this sicko’s killing cycle.”
“Matters are only getting worse,” Carey huffed. “Two days ago, another black woman turned up in Gillham Park. Like the others, all kinds of mud and sticks and rocks were shoved down her throat. These assholes don’t have no respect for women, whatsoever. I can only see the lesbian population growing.”
Carey had the grandest point. Were men to blame for the escalating lesbian population?
Overstreet slipped into a split-second trance and came right back into the present. “The way I see it, I’m going to deal with those who are responsible for the murders of the women in Brush Creek and Gillham Park. Time hasn’t been on our side, but I do believe the tides will turn. And when we finally catch up with them, they’ll wish they hadn’t been born.”
Overstreet took matters personally. Women being violated in such a brutal fashion angered him to the effect of wanting to settle individual vendettas.
“We’ll both make them wish they hadn’t been born.”
“Who made the discovery?”
Carey pointed a few yards across the grass. “The black couple over there with the two big Rotweilers.”
From just looking at those two huge canines, something sparked fear inside Overstreet.
“Where’d they get those big monsters from? I’ll have a few words with them before we’re done. Alright, see what else you can find. Before we finish processing the scene, I’m gonna talk with Doc McKinnis to see what he might know.”
“Sounds good, Jerry.”
Overstreet approached Harold and Marceline Brookings with his pen and notepad ready to go work. Other detectives and police officers scoured the area for possible clues. The Brookings couple saw the two words “police detective” branded across his face.
Overstreet extended his hand as a cordial gesture to Harold. “Sir, I’m Lieutenant Jerry Overstreet, lead homicide detective with the KCPD.”
“Harold Brookings, detective. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise, Harold. What could you tell me about finding the bodies in the trashbag?”
Intensity grew around this particular crime scene.
Harold sucked in a portion of the late morning air. “Well, detective, my wife and I came out for an early morning walk with our dogs. The closer we got to the creek, our two dogs wouldn’t stop barking. Strangely, when we got near the creek water, I took a big tree branch and poked at the four trashbags. Body parts started popping out of the bags. My wife here was totally hysterical from seeing what was inside those bags.”
“Amazing how dogs have senses to pick up on things that we as humans don’t have a clue about. Approximately, what time did you make your discovery?”
“I’d say, just past nine o’clock a.m. I didn’t waste no time calling the police.”
“You did the right thing. Did you see anyone walking around the area?”
“No one, detective.”
“You sure?”
“I’d swear on the soul of my two dogs here. Detective, I read the newspaper everyday. My wife and I faithfully watch the five and six o’clock news every single day. We both know about the two women that were found cut up and put in big trashbags, and then dumped down here in Brush Creek. Just to be on the safe side, my wife and I decided to bring our two German Rotweilers for a walk through this area. I know the story about the guy who attacked two police officers and killed their German Shepard. Would I be asking too much if I were to ask you if you believe the same man might be responsible for the bodies we found in those trashbags?”
“First, bringing your dogs with you for protection is one clever idea. Second, it’s quite possible that the same psycho is responsible. There’s a one-hundred percent chance that he’s the perpetrator we’ve been trying to apprehend for such a long time.”
“He’s got everybody living on edge.”
“That he does.”
“For the longest, drawings of what this man looks like were shown on every news station in the city. The police officers said this guy had what’s called a ‘nightmare-of-a-face’. He must be one ugly son-of-a-gun.”
“Harold, can I get you and your wife to come down to headquarters and give separate statements?”
“Sure can, detective.”
“Thanks for your cooperation.”
“You’re most welcome, detective.”
Harold and Marceline jerked on the leashes for Rocco and Brutus to start heading home. Overstreet was puzzled as to how the full resources of his department hadn’t apprehended their prime suspect. It bothered him to no apparent end how the heartless beast escaped time and time again. Many have said how anyone’s luck had the potential to run out. Like an automobile running clean out of gas, Overstreet felt their target would eventually run out of tactics. His days were numbered. Several yards away, near the banks of the creek, Dr. Anthony McKinnis collected samples from the mutilated body parts.
“Don’t wanna sound like a worn out recording, but whaddaya have, Doc McKinnis?”
“Actually, detective, it’s become a worn out recording. Our perp seems to keep traveling in the same circles.”
“Whaddaya mean, doc?”
“For starters, these bodies were mutilated in the same fashion as the first two vics found here in Brush Creek. Hopefully, blood samples from our perp will give us solid leads.”
“You think our perp used the same instrument to dismember these bodies?”
“Not think, detective, I know these things to be factual.”
“This maniac is making all of us look bad.”
“Once we transport the bodies to the morgue, I’ll know one-hundred percent for sure.”
“And from what you can see thus far, these are two separate bodies put in four separate trashbags?”
“Correct.”
“Females again?”
“Definitely females.”
“Tell me, doc, how long have the bodies been down here in the creek? Could you give me an approximate time frame?”
Dr. McKinnis shook his head with ultimate suspense. “I’d say, uh, about three to three-and-a-half weeks. Maybe longer, maybe shorter. Post mortem and DNA should be able to give me some precise time frames. These predators around Brush Creek will eat just about anything to survive, especially during the Winter months. My observation tells me that they had already dined on these mutilated corpses.”
“And these predators possibly being possums and coons and maybe even rabbits?”
“Correct, detective. It’s even possible that the fish in the creek water feasted on the corpses.”
“Doc, when will you have something definite for me?”
“Couple’a days should be sufficient.”
“Appreciate your help once again, doc.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
Before wrapping up the scene, Overstreet consulted with Carey. “Carey, anything of use to us around here?”
“Nothing, Jerry.”
“You’ve heard me say it before, but this animal is not of this world. Maybe we should’ve kept officers on post after our two guys were attacked.”
“Something tells me that it gives this prick a hard-on everytime he outsmarts us. He makes his moves at the exact precise time. How many more women are going to have to turn up murdered and mutilated before we catch up with him?”
“We’ve asked ourselves that question many times before.”
“We can only hope that we’ll get our answer before somebody else is found dead here in Brush Creek.”
“He knows how to space time between the murders. This scumbag is one of our cold, calculated killers who’s got everything down to a direct science. We post up two of our best officers down here in Brush Creek and he fights his way past them.”
“Not to mention killing one of our best canines with his bare hands.”
“The air unit did no good in helping us apprehend the sonofabitch.”
“This catch-me-if-you-can bullshit game is starting to sicken me to the core of my stomach. After this is over with, I’ll end up bald with a bloated belly and on every type of medication.”
“The mayor and his city council cronies are starting to bite at our asses.”
“Our funds for the fiscal year are soon to be exhausted.”
“Gosh, we’re fighting crime on a shoestring budget.”
“Manpower is the last thing we need to fall short of.”
“Something tells me that this creep is right under our noses. Either we’re too stupid to realize it, or he knows how to make a mockery out of guys like us.”
“We’re more intelligent that he’ll ever realize. There’s still a chance to prove it.”
“Then why’s he still running around free as a bird?”
“Like we both said, our day will come.”
“That day’s not coming soon enough.”
Overstreet and Carey both ached deep inside from not getting the clues they yearned so desperately for. Detectives of their caliber were far from quitting. There were no quitters in their camp. A madman who viciously violated women with impunity had to be caught. For them, for the entire KCPD, it’d become a win at all expense. For answers, they’d long hungered for them. The cases of the Brush Creek and Gillham Park killings were to be pursued with fanatical determination.


CHAPTER—42

Sandy Barnholtz and Carol Wexler arranged yet another hostile meeting with the radical women of S.A.V.E. Their unexpressed rage escalated to meteoric heights. Their anger became bottomless. For the Sisters Against Violent Encounters, women being murdered and mutilated, then thrown into large trashbags like