Chapter 10.

They assisted in busting the punks in the Kia, which busting, seeing as how two police officers witnessed the assault on the homeless man, the failure to stop at a stop sign, and the crash, was thorough.

The Modesto PD was housed in a new building four blocks west of the A&W restaurant. Lawless parked on the street and they went in the main door. He flashed his badge and they were ushered down a side hallway to a small conference room, where they were left alone for several minutes.

"Nice setup," Jensen said, noticing the leather seats and art work hanging on the wall. "The city paid for all this?"

"Tax dollars at work." Lawless was laying his things out on the table, getting ready for the meeting.

Detective Dave Baskel poked his head in the door and said, "You guys want something to drink? Soda? Bottled water?"

"Coke's good, if you have it," Lawless said.

"I'll take bottled water," Jensen said.

"Pepsi okay?" Baskel asked Lawless.

"Hmm ... Water's good." The cola wars raged on in Modesto.

Baskel returned three minutes later with the waters and a Diet Pepsi for himself.

"The other guys coming later?" Lawless asked.

"No. They had time this morning, but when the meeting got postponed ..." Baskel shrugged.

"They still going to work the case?"

"Frank's going to, but Jimmy and Herb have full loads right now. No time."

Lawless couldn't remember who was who, so he said, "Which one's Frank?"

"The smoker."

Lawless nodded.

He looked at his stuff on the table and took a deep breath. Certain Baskel would think him mad and report him to the sheriff, he did what every nervous person did when confronted with the thing making them nervous, he stalled.

"You guys got anything new on your case?" he asked, drying his hands on his pants.

"We don't have anything more than we had yesterday, evidence wise," Baskel said. "We found out who she was, Rachel Sandovich, only because someone recognized her dog; she wasn't carrying any id. We found her purse and wallet in her house, so it doesn't look like robbery. The poor guy who found her is pretty shook up, but we haven't found anyone who saw anything suspicious in that area yesterday. No screams. No speeding getaway cars. No guys creeping around carrying a heavy bag. Nothing."

He took a sip from his Diet Pepsi and continued. "You know, we didn't find a single drop of blood anywhere around that canal, except under the vic's body. I'd like to know how they did that. It should've been all over the scene."

"Maybe she was killed on the footbridge and her blood went into the canal," Jensen said, jumping in early.

Baskel turned to her and said, "Maybe, Deputy...?"

"Jensen."

"Jensen. Sorry. I don't see how that's possible. And, I mean, they didn't just cut off her head, which isn't all that easy to do by the way, they cut down into her chest. Did you see that they cut through her heart? Sliced her clean through: spine, ribs, everything."

Lawless cleared his throat. "We think we know how she, they, all of them, were killed."

Baskel stared at Lawless. "And you're just now telling me? How?"

"I'll explain." He handed Baskel the photo enlargements. "These are photos of the other three victims." He let Baskel look for a while, understanding the horror he saw on the man's face.

"Good God," Baskel said, dropping the pictures. "I heard their deaths were similar to our vic's."

"The wounds on this one look familiar to you?" Lawless asked, putting the Sanchez photo on top.

Baskel studied the picture for a minute, then nodded. "Looks a lot like Sandovich." Then, "Hold on. I'm gonna' go get the shots of Sandovich's body."

He returned five minutes later with the pictures. While he was gone, Jensen used the restroom and Lawless reread Brouchard's fax, again wishing it was more concise.

Baskel brought one enlargement and a stack of four-by-sixes. He slid the enlargement across the table and said, "Our vic's wound does look similar to your guy's."

Lawless and Jensen looked at the photo, and Lawless felt sick. Even though he'd been at all the crime scenes and had viewed the bodies as they were found, and had studied the digital photos in his office, the images still got to him.

He dropped the picture and rubbed his face.

"What does the coroner say? Do you have his reports?" Baskel asked.

Lawless pushed a copy of Brouchard's fax across the table. "I got him to write a one-pager. Excuse me, I need to use the restroom."

Baskel picked up the fax as Lawless left. He didn't need to relieve himself, he just wanted to get away from the pictures and splash some water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, dripping, and thought he looked old. He wondered, yet again, what Jensen saw in him.

Depressed now, his mind chased after the thought she was probably using him to move her career along; working on a big case would look impressive on her detective application. She would dump him after this canal case was over, find someone younger and better looking. With more money. Someone exciting. Someone not him.

He ripped a length of paper towel from the dispenser and dried his face, looked in the mirror again and felt sorry for himself.

Heading for the door, he glanced at his shoes: water had dripped on them. He dried them with toilet tissue - paper towels were coarse and dulled the finish - and couldn't think of when he last looked at his shoes, or anyone else's for that matter. There were several scuffs and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

He left the bathroom feeling worse than when he'd gone in.

Back at the conference room, he stopped outside and looked through the window. Baskel was still studying the fax, frowning, and Jensen was drinking from her water bottle. Seeing him look at her, she smiled and winked.

He entered and took his chair, feeling ten times better.

" 'Reptilian DNA?' " Baskel said. "What the hell does that mean? And what's this about 'Wounds appear to be the result of a single strike by a large object with very sharp blades.' Give me a break."

He dropped the paper on the table. "Is this some kind of joke?" Then he smiled. "Who put you up to this? Frank? That son of bitch." He laughed until he saw they weren't smiling.

"What?" he said. "Come on. 'Reptilian DNA?' You can't be serious."

"Afraid so," Lawless said.

"You're shitting me." Baskel picked up the report again. "Why didn't Brouchard sign it then? And it's not printed on letterhead."

"I asked him to write it up for us this morning, just a summary of his autopsies. You know how wordy those things can get. He made me promise it was for our eyes only. I'll get you the full autopsy reports when they're ready."

Baskel still wasn't buying it. "Bullshit. Frank typed this up and you're all in on it."

"Call the coroner," Lawless said.

Baskel studied Lawless's expression. "I will. Later."

He looked between Lawless and Jensen, anger flaring in his eyes. "No more bullshit. How are these people being killed?"

Lawless hesitated a moment, locked onto Baskel's eyes and said, "They were all killed by a huge snake-like creature we think lives and hunts in the canals."

Baskel's face froze. Then he said, stated, didn't ask, "And you think this because the lab found DNA it couldn't identify."

"Not entirely. We also have an eyewitness, someone who saw the creature kill his friend, the one with the red tennis shoes. Deputy Jensen interviewed him."

He turned to Jensen and nodded. She summarized Fruega's statement, leaving out the parts about him being doped up during the interview and where they'd interviewed him.

Baskel still wasn't buying it. "It was dark. He could have seen anything. A tree branch. Some guy wearing a hood."

"Take a look at the pictures again," Lawless said.

Baskel picked up the enlargements, still angry.

Lawless held up his thumb. "Two of the victims look like something big took a bite out of them, Sanchez and Sandovich. The coroner says all of them have the same kind of wounds, clean cut-throughs, even the guy who just had legs left. You could see it if these pictures were close-ups."

Baskel went from picture to picture, studying, and said, "So?"

"All the victims were killed next to a canal." Lawless said, flipping up his index finger.

"Coincidence."

Lawless frowned, held up a third finger and continued. "None of the crime scenes had the usual signs of struggle and there was no blood splatter where there should have been. In fact, there were no signs of struggle period. Think about how you found Mrs. Sandovich: it was like she fell out of the sky and landed on the bridge."

Baskel rubbed his chin. He looked at Lawless with skeptical eyes, but he was listening.

Lawless held up a fourth finger. "We have two samples of DNA taken from the wounds, and both came back the same: unidentified but similar to snake. A third sample was collected today from your victim and sent to Stockton for testing. The results will be the same as the first two."

"You assume."

"Oh, it will. Fifth," Lawless said, displaying five fingers. "We have someone who saw an attack and lived to tell about it."

"Where's this witness? When can I talk to him?"

"He was at Doctor's this morning. You can talk to him anytime," Lawless said, hoping Baskel would drop it.

"Why's he in the hospital? Was he injured?"

"No physical injuries."

Baskel became suspicious. "What then?"

"He was a little shook up, that's all."

Baskel caught it. "Shook up? Was he medicated when you talked to him?"

"Some. Just so he could sleep."

Baskel smiled. "He was drugged. Your witness was drugged." He laughed.

Lawless said, "His statement wasn't taken under ideal circumstances, but it was all we had at the time. He's the only one who's seen this thing and lived to talk about it."

Lawless continued making his case, sticking his other thumb in the air. "Irrigation canals all have metal grilles over the openings where they pass under roads, to prevent large debris from damming up the water. All of the grilles our divers have checked have holes in them big enough to swim through. MID's seen the holes but doesn't have an answer. They've never had holes in their grilles. Ever. And they say the steel was cut, not punched or blown through. We think the creature made the holes so it could navigate the canals."

He summarized, again using his fingers. "One, same wounds confirmed by the coroner. Two, all victims were killed next to a canal. Three, lack of expected evidence. Four, unknown DNA similar to snake. Five, eyewitness. Six, holes in steel grilles.

"Now, run with me a little here, I know it's a stretch. Look at all our evidence. Picture a big snake, ten or more feet long, with some kind of metallic teeth harder than anything we know of, swimming through the canals, hunting. All our evidence can fit in this picture. It hunts mostly at night, your daytime case the only exception. It strikes and runs, taking whatever it can in one bite, except for the attack on the Paradise Lateral, the one our witness saw. For some reason, it came back to finish that guy off."

"Something that big, why hasn't anyone seen it?" Baskel said. "A lot of people work or live by a canal. Someone would have seen something that big."

"There are more than two hundred and fifty miles of canals running through the county. That's a lot of canal to hide in, especially if it only comes out of the water when it feeds, and then only at night."

Lawless put his hands down and waited.

Baskel rubbed his chin and looked at the picture of Sandovich. After a minute, he stood and said, "I need to make a couple of calls."

"Think he's calling for the padded wagon?" Lawless asked, after Baskel left.

"I thought you did a good job. What else could we do?" Jensen said. "And you're right, we can't do this by ourselves. We need help."

Lawless nodded, then said, "I could use some caffeine. I'm going to find out where he got his Pepsi. You want anything?"

"Caffeine sounds good. No diet, though. I don't like fake sugar."

He returned with a Pepsi and a Mountain Dew.

When Baskel came back ten minutes later, his attitude had changed.

"Called the coroner and he confirmed the fax. Didn't sound too happy about my call, though. Seemed scattered. I've never known Brouchard to be like that."

"He's had a bad day," Jensen said.

"Mine's not going so well, either," Baskel said, his face a mixture of anger, fear, and frustration. He clenched a fist, then relaxed it, looked up at the ceiling, exhaled.

"I also called my wife. I live in north Modesto, fairly close to the mall. There's a canal that runs alongside Standiford all the way to Dale. I suppose it runs through a tunnel after that because it just disappears after Dale."

He clenched a fist again.