Unearthed

By Ken Croy

Sometimes in life an event so altering comes along and challenges who we really are and, in doing so unwittingly, unearths the person hidden inside. In the story Through Madisons Eyes an aging detective nearing retirement must dig deep to prove his own ability to solve a horrendous crime. A crime that would shock even the most seasoned crime investigator. With Footprints in the Dark a couple is torn apart by a parents worst nightmare. They each have to overcome their own demons to find their way back to one another and recapture a love lost. And finally in the story of young Donnie Blue the reader discovers how the love between siblings rivals anything even transcending the grave.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477278970

Ken Croy

Ken Croy was born in the small community of Elwood, Indiana. After a military career, he eventually settled down and now calls Oklahoma City home. He and his wife Belinda have been married over 36 years and are the proud parents of five adult children and eleven grandchildren. When he’s not busy writing Ken enjoys playing golf and spending quality time with his family.

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© 2012 by . All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/10/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7896-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7897-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012919009

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

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Through Madison’s Eyes

Footprints in the Dark....

Donnie Blue....

About the Author

THROUGH MADISON’S EYES

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Drake Stage was looking forward to his retirement from the Clearview Police force until a young girl’s brutal murder changed everything.

The snow fell softly on the emerging spring lawn. It’s radiant beauty a stark contrast to the lifeless form of the young woman resting gently against the southeast corner of the house.

Lt! over here! barked the rookie cop, who was obviously shaken by the grisly discovery.

Lt Drake Stage, a veteran of some 30 years on the police force, couldn’t help but be upset by the gruesome sight now before him. There was blood all over the place. The woman’s eyes were staring blankly out across the snow covered lawn and a tear seemed frozen in the corner of her right eye. Her throat had been cut so deeply that she was nearly decapitated.

Stage figured the girl to be no more than about 20 and his own daughter’s image flashed into his mind. He quickly shook the thought and returned to the task at hand.

He wondered, out loud without thinking, what kind of monster could do something like this.

There had never been much of anything in the way of crimes committed in the quiet, little town of Clearview.

Aside from the occasional teenage pranks, Clearview was a peaceful, little community of about 10,000 nestled about halfway between Indianapolis and Anderson just off interstate 69.

Drake had just talked to his wife about retiring and moving to Florida. He and his wife Kerry had talked about that a lot. In the thirty years that Drake had served the Clearview Police Department, he had never once had to use his weapon. He had hoped he would never have to deal with anything serious, let alone a murder.

He wondered also if his limited criminal experience was sufficient to prepare him for investigating a crime like this. He remembered the training seminar he had gone to in Chicago a few years back and tried to recall all the things that the instructor talked about. All those thoughts were racing through his mind while he was trying, at the same time, to preserve the crime scene. He knew valuable evidence could be lost with the accumulating snow if he didn’t do something quick.

The area was cordoned off and a makeshift roof of tarp was positioned over the location of the body. The forensic team from Indianapolis arrived and started collecting samples that would be valuable to the investigation.

And though Drake knew the young woman had long since left this world, his paternal instinct told him to get her out of the cold and in a safer place.

The team combed the area thoroughly. Every square inch of the yard was examined precisely along with the interior of the house. It was amazing how clean the area was considering the horrific crime that had been committed there.

The house on Market Street where the victim was found was vacant. It was a rental property that had changed hands numerous times over the past few years. A search inside the house revealed nothing remarkable that would lend anything to the investigation. It was 6:15 and only another 15 minutes of daylight remained when Drake made an important discovery.

At the rear of the house, seemingly tossed haphazardly behind a crepe myrtle bush, was what appeared to be the murder weapon. It was a butcher knife with an approximate six inch blade with ample blood on both the blade and the handle.

Drake carefully removed the knife with his gloved hand and gingerly placed it in an evidence bag. He wondered how the team could have missed such an obvious piece of evidence. He would address that later.

Photographs were taken of the victim and then she was finally removed and transported to the coroner’s office in Indianapolis. An autopsy would have to be completed as a part of the investigation, and even though he knew it was necessary, Drake hated the thought of the girl being cut up even more.

Back at his office, he studied the photos of the still unidentified victim and the thought occurred to him this may not have been a random attack. The manner in which the victim was cut suggested this was someone strong, probably male, who most likely attacked from behind. And, even though she probably didn’t see her attacker, she may have known him.

It could have been an old lover or even a current one. But there was no need in getting too far ahead. He would just have to wait to see what the forensic team could come up with. Not much more he could do tonight except go home to his wife and hope for some much needed sleep.

Drake arrived home and Kerry was already in bed. She had gotten use to his late hours over the years. He moved quietly through the house so as not to disturb his wife. There was a pot of coffee made and Drake hesitated, but thought better. What he needed more than anything, after what he had just seen, was rest. He slipped out of his shoes and clothes and placed them on the floor next to the bed. Then he quietly slid under the covers next to his wife.

From the time he laid his head on the pillow, Drake knew it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the girl’s face, young and so pretty, and should have been full of life. He looked over at his wife asleep next to him so peacefully and he envied her restfulness. Finally, he got up and went to the kitchen in search of coffee knowing he was in for a long night.

He kept going over things in his mind. Who was this girl and how and why did she end up like that? There was nothing familiar about her at all. He couldn’t be sure but he didn’t think she could have been from Clearview. He pulled the curtains aside and looked out the kitchen window. The snow was falling more heavily now and the full moon cast a bright light out across the back yard.

He finished his coffee and sat the cup in the sink, then went in to the living room and grabbed a book. The Last Season of Weeb Ewbank, a story about the New York Jets football coach by Paul Zimmerman. He needed to get his mind off things and lose himself for a few minutes. That’s all it took. Within moments Drake was fast asleep in the recliner.

He awoke abruptly to the sound of a thud against the front door. Drake sluggishly arose rubbing the stiffness from his neck. He opened the front door and was met with a blast of cold air.

Indiana mornings could be bitter cold even in March, but this one seemed particularly cold. He bent down and retrieved the paper from its resting spot against the house.

He quickly shut the door and rubbed his arm in a feeble attempt to erase the cold. He sat back down in the chair and flipped open the paper. Woman’s Body found in City was the headlines. He read, "An unidentified woman was found dead at 1814 Market Street at approximately 5:00 pm yesterday.

The woman appeared to be in her early 20’s. It was reported that the victim’s throat was cut. No further details were available. Police are investigating.

Short and to the point. But there wasn’t much more to say than that for now. But Drake knew he had to find out what happened and who this person was.

She had to have family, a mother, a father, maybe even a brother or sister, people who loved her and who need to know what happened.

What’d you do, stay up all night, he heard Kerry say, as she came out of the bedroom.

No, I fell asleep in the chair. Better not do that anymore either. My neck is really sore.

You want some breakfast!

No, I think I’ll get dressed and get to the office early. Guys from Indianapolis are supposed to fax over lab results this morning. I’d like to get an early start.

You better eat something!

I’ll get something later. he promised.

Drake knew he wouldn’t be eating anything soon. His stomach just couldn’t handle it right now. If Kerry only knew what he had witnessed the night before.

Back at his office, Drake immediately went to the fax machine. Nothing yet probably a little too early. He would have to wait a while on the forensic team. He sat down at his desk and opened the file drawer and removed the folder marked Murder-victim unknown.

He once again studied the pictures of the victim and tried to imagine what she was like before all of this happened. She was found fully clothed so the chances were pretty good that it was not a sexual assault. The only odd thing was she was not wearing any kind of coat. And, judging from the weather that made no sense at all. The temperatures were in the low 30’s when the body was found. May not mean anything at all.

Suddenly, Drake’s thoughts were interrupted by the noisy fax machine. Here we go, he thought, maybe this will be something I can use. Sure enough, the fax was coming from the Marion County Forensics Lab.

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear that he was going to get much help with the findings. In the first case, all of the blood found at the scene, including blood found on the presumed murder weapon was that of the victim.

In addition, there was absolutely no trace evidence found at the scene that would be useful to the investigation. There was nothing on the victim’s clothing, hair, fiber, prints or anything at all. There wasn’t even as much as a footprint found.

Either this person was extremely lucky or was knowledgeable enough to cover his tracks pretty well. But, then why was the murder weapon found so close to the victim? Carelessness or was it intentional?

There was one bit of information that would prove to be very helpful. There was a young girl, age 17, from the nearby town of Copperville reported missing by her parents.

A part of Drake wanted it to not be his victim, hoping the young missing girl would be found safe and sound. But another part of him needed to know who his victim was so he could finally put a name to her.

He scrutinized the picture of the missing girl and even though he knew he would have to wait for confirmation, he realized he had found his victim.

Madison Cheyenne Conner was a senior at Copperville High and a member of the varsity cheerleading squad. Drake once again looked at the young girl’s picture and was captured by her beautiful gazing, green eyes. They weren’t just green, but a deep emerald green. Those were the same eyes that he saw blankly staring out across the snow the night before.

The girl certainly looked older than her seventeen years, but, these days, they all did. Kids just seem to grow up way too fast, he thought. He read down through the rest of the report.

A vaginal swab indicated there was not any sexual contact. There were no defensive wounds or anything under the fingernails of the victim. Other than the wound to the throat, there were no other marks on the body at all.

Suddenly, Drake heard a commotion outside in the hallway. He opened the door in time to see Officer Delbert Smith shoving a slightly built man down the hall towards the cells.

Get in there you son of a bitch! He shouted. You half -wit bastard before I knock the shit out of you.

What’s going on Del? Who you got there and what the hell did he do?

I’ll tell you who I got, it’s Donnie Johnson and he’s the bastard that killed that girl.

Del wasn’t one to mix words. Of course he was rarely right and when Drake realized who he was hauling in he suspected he wouldn’t be right this time either.

Donnie Johnson was a small man, slightly over 5 feet tall and couldn’t have weighed more than 120 lbs. He dropped out of school at 16 when he was in the eighth grade. Most people thought he was slightly touched in the head and kids would often tease him.

But for the most part, Donnie was perfectly harmless. He did odd jobs all over town, raking people’s yards, mowing lawns and the like.

What makes you think you got your man there Del?

That’s all he’s been talking about. He was down at Ed’s tavern and some of the boys were playing pool and he starting shooting his mouth off about all the blood and stuff. I’m telling you Lt., he’s your man alright.

I don’t know Del. Guess it won’t hurt to talk to him and see what we got. Even if he turns out to not be the killer, could be he might know something. The guy does get around a lot.

DAMN IT Lt, I know he’s your man.

Ok, Ok, I’ll certainly check it out. Get him out of there and bring him into the interrogation room. And Del, don’t rough him up so much. I’d like to get him to cooperate a little.

Sure, sure, anything you say Lt.

Donnie sat nervously in the chair starring down at the floor when Drake entered the room.

Relax Donnie; I just want to talk with you for a minute. You don’t mind talking with me now, do you?

"It’s ok Donnie, nobody is mad at you and nobody is