Brush Creek Charlie by D. B. Reynolds (which ebook reader .txt) 📖

a bridesmaid in my wedding. So something good became of something bad. Unfortunately, the hospital treated me real bad. I remember lying on the table waiting for my mother and my boyfriend to get there. Some doctor walks in with a clipboard and asks me how was I going to pay for my treatment. I didn’t care how I was going to pay after surviving a beating and raping that nearly killed. I didn’t care how the hospital was going to be compensated for treating me.”
Sandy weaved in and said, “Didn’t you use your frustration by taking action and getting some legislation passed?”
“Here in Missouri, I helped get Bill 388 passed, which prohibits rape victims from paying for forensic exams.”
Applauses came from every corner of the adjoining rooms.
Mary stirred up emotions and jumpstarted hope for all the women.
“Everyone, this is to give you guys a heads up on what our future plans are. We plan to go to the legislature here in Missouri and have Victim Notification laws passed, so that when these men who have assaulted and raped you get out of prison, you can know where they are living.”
“And we sure hope they never get out of prison,” Carol attested. “But in most cases they are released from prison.”
Mary stamped on a few more words. “It is our right to know where these predators are living. When potential victims are at risk, they must know about these sexual monsters, they should be tipped off as to their whereabouts. It’s not the sheriffs and the policemen who are at risk, it’s the women who are unsuspecting about these psychos.”
“Remember ladies, rapists are shrewdly mobile,” Sandy added. “For you unfortunate ones who were raped, you guys don’t even know of their whereabouts. These maniacs don’t know just one community.”
“Rape is one of the worst tragedies any woman could ever suffer,” Mary cried out to the others. “During the whole time I was being raped, it felt like a man masturbating inside of me with a piece of sandpaper. I ended up with ten staples in my head. I was afraid to leave my house and quit my job after I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It affected my relationship with my boyfriend and my family. Months after the incident, I couldn’t have a peaceful night’s sleep. Things turned for the worst as time went on. My stress level and blood pressure rose to dangerous levels.”
Sandy ended the women’s session with her final thoughts. “Ladies, we have to take every precaution available to prevent ourselves from being attacked and raped. God rest Bolo’s canine soul, but had it not been for him, I too, would’ve become another statistic. Had it not been for my martial arts training, I probably wouldn’t be here speaking to any of you. The woman found by the jogger floating along the waters in Brush Creek, her limbs amputated from her body, I found that quite disturbing. Yes, I thought to myself how that could’ve been me that night when I took Bolo for a walk. Ladies, I end this session by telling you to be careful, watch yourselves inside and outside your home, be very leary of strangers, and carry some protection with you at all times. Carol and I appreciate your attendance and may God bless all of you.”
The attendees finished off their drinks and refreshments and chatted amongst one another. Sandy and Carol escorted them out the house before retiring for the evening.


CHAPTER—9

Lieutenant Jerry Overstreet began the early stages of his homicide investigation. Enough bodies to fill a junior college classroom occupied the coolers inside the morgue at the Harry S. Truman Medical Center. Detective Overstreet left the Brush Creek crime scene a few days earlier puzzled about the homicide victim found floating in trashbags along the creek banks. Who’d do such a horrific thing to an innocent woman like Lisa Wallace?
It was the precise question he asked himself when the coroners loaded the dismembered body inside the wagon. Overstreet stepped under the bright lights inside the morgue. There to greet him was the best forensic medical science had to offer. Dr. Anthony McKinnis made some nerve shattering discoveries during his days of examining the mutilated corpse.
“Hey doc, what’cha find out?” Overstreet questioned Dr. McKinnis. He stood just a short distance from the autopsy table.
“It’s never nothing pretty, detective,” Dr. McKinnis replied, his voice gone sour.
“Had the vic been in one piece and not badly decomposed, then it would’ve made our job a lot easier.”
Dr. McKinnis had everything detailed for Overstreet. “Detective, this vic suffered profound cyanosis. My diagnosis leads me to believe that a pair of very strong hands strangled her to death. The discoloration around her neck indicates that the deoxygenated blood cut off oxygen to her brains and lungs.”
Overstreet moved closer to the autopsy table. “Doc, any signs of a struggle?”
“Serious signs of a struggle,” Dr. McKinnis confirmed, moving the bright lamp closer to her torso and dismembered limbs. “Bruises here on the upper chest and arms indicate that she tried to fight off her attacker.”
“Any DNA from the perp?”
“None whatsoever, detective.”
“That’s strange.”
“The raw sewage and other pollutants in Brush Creek, not to mention the fish and turtles in the creek, would’ve washed and eaten away or contaminated any sufficient form of DNA.”
“I guess the psycho who did this knew how to cover up his tracks.”
“He wasn’t a novice at this.”
“Any signs of rape, doc?”
“Had there been any traces of semen or saliva left on the victim, the creek water would’ve washed it right away. Plus, I swabbed the vaginal area for possible traces of semen or pubic DNA from the perp. None of her genitalia area showed signs of sexual deviant intercourse.”
“And you’d swear your medical license on that?”
Dr. McKinnis was an expert who knew his stuff.
“Detective, I swabbed the anal, oral, and vaginal mucosa of this victim. She definitely wasn’t raped.”
“No bite or teeth marks on the victim?”
“Not an inch anywhere on her body.”
“The mutilation, tell me about that.”
“Well now,” Dr. McKinnis paused, gathering his thoughts. “That’s the part that puzzles even me. The perpetrator knew precisely where and how to mutilate the body. The instrument or weapon used is what boggles me the most.”
“Boggles you? How?”
Dr. McKinnis used one of his powerful pen lights to show Overstreet one of the dismembered legs. “The legs were separated right at the Quadriceps Femoris.”
“Making this psycho’s work less complicated?”
“Exactly.”
“We’ve possibly got a barbaric maniac on our hands.”
“The arms were separated along the Deltoid Muscles. In my years and in this line of work, I’ve examined vics mutilated with knives and saws and swords, but never with a Machete.”
“Aren’t swords and machetes one in the same?”
“Not quite.”
Dr. McKinnis moved the bright lamp closer to the skin on the mutilated arm. “If you’ll observe rather closely, the blade which made contact with and ripped through the skin and bones, it belongs to that of a Full Tang Monster Machete.”
“How do you know it was that model of machete?”
Again, Dr. McKinnis worked and studied long enough to know his stuff.
“The Full Tang Monster Machetes are rare models of machetes. I matched up the heat anondized stainless steel blade featured in manuals on machetes with the exact blade used to dismember our victim.”
“So the cuts along the skin and into the bone tells the story?”
“The blade on that machete has ultimate cutting power.”
“I’d say so.”
“Another thing, detective. Full Tang Monster Machetes were used during the Vietnam War to chop through the mile high vegetation in the jungles of Saigon and the Viet Cong.”
“But who’d have access to one of them if they were used in the Vietnam? That war’s been over for more than thirty-something years.”
“Guessing is something I’m not good at, but maybe our perp is some shellshocked Vietnam veteran.”
“Maybe he got’a hold of a machete and decided he liked killing with it.”
“Mutilation isn’t something new to the perp.”
“Could you tell me how long the body floated around in the creek before the jogger found her?”
Dr. McKinnis scanned the torso and the arms and legs before making his assessment. “A body goes through five major stages of decomposition, which are fresh, bloat, decay, dry and remains. She reached the stage of decay, in which I’d say she floated around the creek for a little more than two weeks. Frigid temperatures kept the insects from feasting on her and leaving her nothing but bones.”
“Kinda preserved her a little longer?”
“Exactly.”
“You already told me the approximate time of death at the crime scene. Any traces of drugs or alcohol in her system.”
“None whatsoever. Toxicology reports showed her system as clean as the health department.”
“Let me ask you this, doc. Any markings on the body which could’ve linked her to this psychopath?”
“I’ll tell ya, I’ve examined every square inch of the torso and limbs. From the front to the sides, I found no lesions, tattoos, moles, or scars.”
“Alright doc, thanks for all your hard work. Make sure an autopsy report reaches my desk by tomorrow. We’ve got to turn this woman over to her family for burial.”
“You’ll have the report first thing in the morning.”
Overstreet went out of the morgue rattling his brains for answers.


CHAPTER—10

Steam from a piping hot cup of coffee simmered across the desk of Overstreet inside the homicide division of the KCPD. Mounds of paperwork toppled his desk from murder case files yet to be solved. To the detectives assigned to various murder cases, their work was never done. A colleague of Overstreet once joked how they’d never