The Canefield Killer - A John Riley Novel

Chapter 3

Riley coughed a couple of times as he took his first breaths of the smoky air, and the burnt pork smell of human flesh reached him.

"Here," Dimes walked carefully to the back of the room.

Riley walked behind him, trying to follow exactly in Dimes' steps. The house was small, and the only separator between the kitchen and the living room was an out of place counter, floating in the sense that it was not attached to any of the walls or other countertops. The roof had caved in filling the kitchen with burnt wood and shingles. Some of the debris had spilled over the floating counter and dusted the body.

"Jesus Christ. That's Dale."

Dimes nodded.

The room was filled with a sudden flash of white light, and there was a click and a whir behind Riley. Another Detective had come in to help with the processing. The flash of the camera highlighted the hole in Dale's head. The bullet had gone in just above his right eye. His gun was lying on the ground by his hand.

Riley shook his head.

"There's an unidentified in the bathroom," Dimes led the way.

The body in the bathroom was that of a young boy, half-naked and sitting across from the toilet leaning to his right against the shower door. There were two cans of gasoline nearby, a plastic one, melted and charred, and a metal one, still intact.

Riley pointed at the boys head. His face was charred, identifying him would rely on fingerprints, or dental records if his hands were too burnt to lift prints, but the cause of death seemed evident. A gun lay in his left hand, and there was a hole in his left temple. The blood splatter on the shower stall was still evident, although badly burned.

"Huh," Riley looked over the bathroom one more time. Nothing else seemed out of place.

"In here."

Riley turned to the left and followed Dimes to the master bedroom. The carnage was bad enough, but two cops dying made the matter all the more serious and personal, "I'm not going. This is too important."

Dimes shook his head, "Nope. The Sarge was clear on this one: you're spoken for. My call to you this morning was a courtesy. But I'm on it, don't worry."

Riley let it drop. He would take it up with Harmond later, now wasn't the time.

Bennett was lying in the doorway. Burnt badly, just like Dale. Whoever set the fire had put a healthy dose of gasoline on both cops. The walls were blackened, and the house had been gutted, but the fire had not been strong enough to do this on its own. The boy's body was burned too, but not nearly to the same capacity.

Behind Bennett, on the bed was the final corpse; female, young, tied to the bed and the only one in the entire house that was naked.

"What a fucking mess."

They retraced their steps. Outside, Riley pulled off the foot covers he had slipped on over his own shoes and stuffed them into his pocket.

"I'll find him, John," Dimes was at his side, pulling out a cigarette and resting it between his lips.

"So you don't think it was the kid either."

They walked back to the small cluster of squad cars, and Dimes lit the cigarette and took a deep pull before responding. "We'll see what the Medical Examiner says, but I don't think so. They wouldn't have gone into the house with just the kid, and he's not holding that gun. I don't think he even killed himself."

Riley thought about it for a second then said, "Fuck 'em. I can stay."

"John. You've got to go, even if you stayed at this point, there is no way Harmond would let you work this. You would just piss him off. Don't worry, I'll find this guy."