The Trinity Murders Read online

  “Oh, he’s working with Sergeant Trufant?” said Sam with a hint of a smile.

  “How did you … never mind. Yeah, he is and I’m going to give him a little support where I can. You aren’t going to say anything, are you?” said Minnie, almost holding her breath.

  “Well that’s why I stopped by. If there is anything I can do to help, let me know. I’m pretty sure that goes for everyone else too. Just don’t let App find out.”

  “Oh you’re preaching to the choir sister. I’ve taken every precaution so he doesn’t.”

  “Perfect. Catch ya later, Minnie.”

  “See ya, Sam.”

  When Minnie was first approached by the FBI and moved to Virginia, she met weekly with a psychologist. They talked about many things and one area of discussion was her hacking. It was impressed on her that even though she didn’t do anything malicious with her hacking it was still wrong and against the law. Since those talks she had never been on the wrong side of the law again and morally she had not strayed from center. Legally she knew what she was doing was wrong but morally she felt she was doing right.

  Her office was like a second home to her. She had everything she could ever want and her tools were so robust that if she wanted to be a serious hacker again, there was almost no system in the world she couldn’t access. Right in front of her she had three 21-inch monitors that were linked together to create one desktop and she could do most of her work there. There were eleven other computers in the room with single monitors in case she needed a dedicated machine for something specific or if she brought in one of the other techs to assist her.

  She had two 24 x 36 whiteboards on wheels which were her favorite tools. Minnie was a visual person and one of the boards still held pictures of the four people who were killed from her team’s most recent case. The first thing she always did was print out and hang the pictures of the victims in whatever case she was working. They were her clients and she worked for them. She felt having their pictures as a reminder would keep her grounded and focused.

  What really made Minnie feel comfortable in her space was her Mighty Mouse collection, or at least a portion of her collection. Her parents settled on the name Minnette before she was ever conceived. Minnette had been the name of her great-great-grandmother who emigrated with her parents from the former Czechoslovakia when she was three months old. The parents of Grandma Minnette died during the trip to America and baby Minnette quickly found herself alone. Minnette was a big part of the Underground Railroad in the 1860s, helping slaves achieve their freedom. Young Minnette’s parents couldn’t think of a better role model for their daughter and as she grew, she embodied the similar characteristics of perseverance and a deep need to help others.

  A stuffed Mighty Mouse rested next to Minnie in her crib at the maternity ward and from there her collection and love of Mighty Mouse was born. She identified with the pint-size hero and she spent her life living by the adage of not judging a book by its cover.

  She loved Topper like a brother and she was focused on finding the link that would crack the case, so she got to work.

  9

  Trufant kept his distance while Topper was on the phone but he walked over once he finished his call. “Was that Minnie?”

  “Yep.”

  “She’s a great girl. I sure hope I get the chance to meet her someday. At the very least I’ll have to send her a gift.”

  “I’ll make sure you two meet. You get her anything to do with Mighty Mouse and you’ll have her heart forever,” said Topper with a wink.

  “Perfect.” He handed Topper the case file for victim #11, Melissa Brewster. “There isn’t much more we can do tonight. I was thinking about calling it a night and getting a fresh start tomorrow. That’s the case file for a girl not too far from here and I thought we could go see her mother first thing in the morning. I was thinking about getting a bite; you in the mood for something to eat?”

  “What’s Dallas got in the way of barbeque?” asked Topper.

  Trufant flashed a smile and nodded for Topper to follow him. They ended up at a place in the middle of nowhere called the Charcoal Pit and the smoke coming from the back made Topper think the place was on fire.

  The place was hopping. The floor was covered in peanut shells and the jukebox in the corner was playing country music. At quick glance, Topper only noticed three empty tables out of the thirty or so in the room. Besides the barbeque, the Pit was famous for their rings. Each table had a two-foot pole attached to a square base with onion rings stacked to the top. Topper’s mouth began to water as they took one of the empty tables.

  Topper ordered a Crown and Coke, the kitchen sink and a half order of rings. The kitchen sink consisted of brisket, pulled pork, tri tip, a half rack of ribs, smoked sausage, baked beans and a corn muffin. Trufant ordered a dockhand, a pulled pork sandwich, and changed Topper’s half order of rings to a full order.

  The drinks came first and both men began to unwind after a long day. Trufant really wanted to ask Topper about his leave of absence but couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject. He was so grateful to have him there that he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. What he did ask him about was the case and his thoughts. Topper took another sip of his drink and thought a second before he answered.

  “Well, I can see why Megan was resistant to bring this to the team. There’s so many similarities between these murders; I’m just having a tough time saying they are all one un-sub. I know the time line makes it possible, but that’s a lot of ground to cover for one guy. Not to mention he’d have to have places in all three states; otherwise, he’s risking a lot transporting these girls across states. Unfortunately, runaways are an easy target for predators so it is possible that we are dealing with three separate un-subs. Now, if that is the case, it’s possible that they know each other. Maybe they’ve met in a chat room or something. There’s too many similarities to dismiss the connection completely.

  “I hope you understand why Megan decided not to pass this on to the team. The amount of case requests she gets in a week is staggering and she needs to make tough decisions everyday.”

  “Oh, I know,” said Trufant taking a drink of his beer. “Megan’s great. I’ve been talking to her about these cases for a year now. She’s given me lots of great advice.”

  “Well, here’s the thing. Whether it’s one un-sub or multiple un-subs, we’re going to catch them. Except for this most recent victim, the other thirty-one are cold cases so we aren’t stepping on anybody’s toes. It doesn’t change our method or our goals. Knowing what we are up against just makes it that much easier.

  “Let me ask you, you’ve been working on this case for over a year. Most cops would have moved on by now, but you haven’t. What’s keeping you up at night about this? I mean, it’d be great to save everyone but it just can’t be done. Why haven’t you moved on?”

  He wasn’t prepared to tell him about Amanda. He wouldn’t lie but if he could keep his personal tragedy out of it, he would.

  “I know we are supposed to remain objective and not make things personal in this job but I was just coming out of a rough patch when I caught the case that turned out to be Jane Doe #4. At least, Jane Doe #4 if my theory is correct. No one seemed to care; she was just a junkie from the streets. She had healed track marks on her arms; you could see life hadn’t been kind to her. She came across my desk. I felt it was my duty to speak for her. Nobody else was going to.”

  Trufant paused as their food was delivered and he took another drink of his beer. “Once I started identifying other victims in Texas, I knew I was meant to continue. I have a friend I met at a conference once who works out of Baton Rouge and I told him about what I was working on and he remembered a case not too far back that seemed pretty similar. Soon I was contacting police departments in five surrounding states asking about any cases with similar MOs. Soon I narrowed it to three states. I don’t know, I think we all have moments in our lives that define us. We may not always r
ecognize it but they’re there. I think this is one for me.”

  Trufant went silent as he started to ponder the past. To not make the silence awkward, he began eating and Topper did the same. Topper was trained to pick up on things that aren’t being said and make intuitive leaps. He knew there was something Trufant wasn’t telling him but he respected him enough not to press. Trufant would tell him in his own time if he so chose.

  The two men made some serious dents in their meals before Trufant spoke again. “What about you? What’s your hope in this? Have you given any thought to where you want to go from here?”

  Topper ordered a second drink as he pondered the questions. “Well, obviously, first and foremost I want to solve these crimes.” He thought a second longer. “My calling is to help people. It started back in high school and it’s stayed with me ever since. You must feel it; it’s such a fierce sense of purpose that I just don’t know that I could find it anywhere else. I could teach or go into the private sector but it just wouldn’t be the same. I may still go back to my old team. The FBI recruited me three days after my college graduation. I was getting ready to join the Atlanta PD. That’s still a possibility. When you called I was thinking of heading to St. Barts. That’s definitely still on the table.”

  The two men swapped war stories while they finished their meals. They were the last ones at the Pit when they closed down at 11:00. Trufant dropped Topper at his hotel where he spent the next two hours studying the Melissa Brewster file before he called it a night.

  10

  Melissa was sixteen and at the time of her disappearance she was already headed down the wrong path. She was a semester away from flunking out and her family had lost count of how many times she had been picked up for skipping school.

  The hardest drug she was into was marijuana but she was definitely a drinker. As told by her friends, her drink of choice at the time of her disappearance was a cape cod. She came and went at all hours and her parents could no longer keep control of her. Although she appeared to be a lost cause, her mother wouldn’t believe that she had run away. That light still existed in her and she just needed a positive spark to change things for the better. Her mother had always maintained that Melissa was abducted and that thought was reinforced once her body was found.

  The family lived only thirty minutes outside of the city and Trufant thought they should go talk to her. Of course he had already talked to her multiple times but now that he had fresh eyes and ears, it couldn’t hurt to go through it again. If it turns out Melissa was actually abducted, then that would be another piece of the profile and bring them one step closer to catching this guy.

  While Topper was on the phone with Minnie, Trufant was on the phone with Joann Brewster. Joann was skeptical about bringing up all those memories but in the end she thought if she could offer anything that would stop this from happening to another family, then she owed it to Melissa to do what she could. Trufant assured her he now had the help of an FBI profiler and he had a good feeling that these crimes could be solved and they could catch Melissa’s killer.

  They pulled into the driveway of a brick rambler with tulip flower boxes under the windows and a white picket fence. The windows had shutters that were almost as green as the lawn. Topper noticed a few dead spots on the lawn, which told him they had a dog, and a well-used basketball hoop hanging from the roof over the garage. The mailman had yet to come by as the mailbox, which was a smaller version of their house, had its red flag up.

  As a profiler, Topper always volunteered to speak with families of the victims, which was fine by the rest of his team. Topper presented an air of confidence and strength that made people believe in his ability to help them and he conveyed a genuine sense of empathy that people found comforting.

  He thought of himself as the gatekeeper between good and evil. Someone who could walk on both sides, protecting the light from the dark. He took that role seriously and as he knocked on the front door he was ready to take up that mantle again.

  She answered the door in blue jeans, a green top and tennis shoes. Some light dirt stains on the knees suggested she had been doing yard work out back. Her auburn hair was kept up in a pony tail which said she was doing work where she wanted to keep it out of her way. She greeted both men with a smile.

  “Mrs. Brewster, thank you for seeing us,” said Trufant reaching out his hand.

  “Like I said, anything I can do to help.” Her body language and eyes said she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible as she shifted her focus to Topper.

  “This is Topper McMullen. He flew down today to assist me on your daughter’s case.”

  Topper reached out his hand. “Mrs. Brewster, thank you so much for your time. I promise I will try to keep this as brief as I can.”

  Her smile was genuine as Topper was already putting her at ease. “It’s no problem really, please come in.” She offered them lemonade as she brought them into the living room. Politely declining, Topper and Trufant sat on the sofa while Joann sat in an oversized chair next to the fireplace.

  “I thought all of you guys worked with a team. At least that’s how all those television shows portray it,” said Joann. A panicked look came over Trufant’s face as he waited for Topper to respond.

  Topper offered one of his trademark smiles as he spoke with humbled and measured words. “Back in Virginia, I’m part of an amazing team and yes, we always work cases together. I’m just on a leave right now, a sort of sabbatical.”

  “And you decided to come down here and help with this mess? That’s a fair amount of dedication.”

  “Excuse me for saying but I don’t know if it is. I think when those of us have the strength to help others, that’s exactly what we need to do. Sergeant Trufant asked for my help and saying no just didn’t seem like much of a choice. As long as I have the ability, I will always do what I can to help.”

  “Well, whatever you choose to call it, I thank you for being here, Mr. McMullen.”

  “Please, call me Topper.”

  “Topper. It seems like Sergeant Trufant made the right decision when calling you,” said Joann, flashing that smile again. “So please, how can I help?”

  “Well I’m sure Sergeant Trufant has shared with you his theory that your daughter’s murder was not an isolated incident. Another body was found recently which we believe may be connected. As far as we can tell, all of the girls appear to be runaways and the problem with that scenario is that in most cases, we aren’t able to identify these girls. We can’t tell where they were abducted from or how long they have been missing. Sergeant Trufant has told me that you don’t believe Melissa could have run away. If that is the case, then we come that much closer to catching this person. I’m just hoping you could tell me about Melissa so I can get a better understanding of what happened.”

  Joann took a deep breath before she started talking about her daughter. “Melissa was such a good kid. Her life was off to a great start. Ballet, piano, swim lessons, there was nothing she couldn’t do. Smart as a whip, she knew her alphabet before the age of two. At eleven, she took up softball and lacrosse. My husband and I used to privately talk about how special she was and how fun it was going to be watching her grow. At thirteen, she found boys and they sure found her. One Saturday she was out back by the pool and she was supposed to be watching our five-year-old son Jacob. She took a call from one of these boys and lost track of Jake.

  “She got him out of the pool and was able to resuscitate him but he was under too long and his brain had been deprived of oxygen. He was never the same again. Neither was Melissa. After the accident she took a break from all her activities, and she never went back. Her grades started to slip, she started skipping class and getting in trouble.”

  She started picking at the corner of her chair, focusing on an imaginary spot almost like she wasn’t paying attention while telling this story on auto pilot. Topper wanted to get this over with for Mrs. Brewster as quickly as he could but felt this interview was impor
tant.

  “We started taking her to therapy and it was rough at first and then it got rougher. We saw seven therapists over three years and it seemed that nothing was working. Slowly, though, Jake was getting better. He was able to eat on his own again and through therapy he relearned how to walk.

  “The thing is, the month or so before Melissa disappeared, I could almost see her turning a corner. She started spending more time with Jake and he forgave her. That was a big turning point for her. She was still skipping school and getting in trouble but it was less often and from time to time we started seeing that glint in her eye again. I just don’t think she would have run away after everything she had gone through.”

  Topper gave her a minute to decompress before he spoke. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I’m curious, was she having trouble with any kids at school or any of the boys she was hanging out with?”

  “Not that I know of. I mean, the crowd she was hanging out with at thirteen was vastly different than the crowd she was with at the time of her disappearance. To be honest, she shut us out to the point that I’m not sure if we would know, but nothing stood out at the time.”

  “How’s your son doing now?”

  For the first time a genuine smile came across Joann’s face. “He’s doing so much better. He is starting to get some of his speech back. He just turned eleven and he’s in school. He seems happy and he’s doing well.”

  “That’s really great Mrs. Brewster. By any chance, is Melissa’s room still the same?”

  “It is.”

  “Would you mind if I went up and looked around a little? I promise not to disturb anything.”

  “Of course, if you think it would help.”

  Her room was the first door on the right at the top of the stairs. Her name was spelled out in block letters with a small cork board hanging under it for notes. There was still a note pinned to it asking her to bring her laundry downstairs. Opening the door, Topper could see both the old and new Melissa represented in the room. The room was two-tone pink and white with white wainscoting across the center of the wall. It was hard to tell, though, as the walls were covered in old heavy metal posters and horror movies: Black Flag, Anthrax, Megadeath. Psycho, Carrie and The Exorcist. In the corner was a dummy hanging from a noose wearing a Halloween mask. It was wearing black jeans and a black sweatshirt.