Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

investigation that seemed to have been haphazard at best. Was Snead the one who had searched her father's closet and failed to see the loose boards? Or had he deliberately ignored what he saw?
    Or maybe–and this was the leap Julia kept to herself, lest Sue believe she was paranoid and delusional–Snead had planted the ring.
    And the barn. The barn was part of the area that should have been searched. If Julia had been violated and abused there, some evidence might have remained, spots of blood or footprints or crushed grass marking a trail across the meadow. The police should have canvassed the entire neighborhood. Could Snead have taken responsibility for searching the barn, knowing that any stray evidence would stay secret if he filed a negative report?
    No, this is stupid. Rick O'Dell is wrong. The police are not owned by Satan. They haven't sold their souls and aren't covertly working for capital-E 'Evil' under the guise of law and order.
    If people were able to sell their souls, and Satan truly was the Master of the World, a cop would probably ask for a job that was better-paid and less dangerous. But if a man were deluded enough to believe that Satan existed, maybe such a willing slave would let the "master" determine the task. Religious fanatics throughout history had done stranger things, such as flog themselves with whips, wear sackcloth and rub themselves with ashes, and perform suicide attacks on so-called infidels.
    Then again, if Satan wanted to work dark miracles in the world, why not first corrupt law and order?
    "What are you thinking about?" Sue asked, leaning away from the computer.
    "How many unsolved murders have you covered since you've been working here?"
    "Hmm. In twelve years, maybe eight or ten. Murder is one of the easiest crimes to solve. The idiots almost always have an obvious motive, whether they realize it or not. It's a matter of putting the pieces together."
    "And the eight or ten?"
    "Give me a minute." Sue left the cubicle and waded through the journalistic storm of the newsroom. While she was gone, a man with graying hair and glasses scowled at Julia sitting at the computer. She looked away and he left.
    Sue returned in a few minutes with another manila folder. "Even with computers, sometimes you can't beat good old black and white."
    "I've seen your filing system. How did you ever manage to find that?"
    "Job security. If you scramble everything around until you're the only person who knows where the good stuff is, they can't afford to fire you. Even in the age of Google and the Internet, sometimes you need a piece of paper."
    "Ah-hah. That might come in handy when you write your true crime book."
    "'True crime' nothing. I'm going to make it all up. Same as I do with Page One stories."
    Julia laughed, glad to be around someone she was comfortable with. She was hit with a wave of warm nostalgia. Despite her diffuse and fractured memories, she’d had a routine here, along with friends and a fiancé. But Elkwood was more soothing somehow, as if its rounded, ancient mountains were shoulders to lean on in troubled times. She already missed the smell of the hardwoods and the splendor of the autumn forest. It seemed like weeks had passed since she'd arrived in Memphis.
    Sue opened the folder, glanced at the incident reports, and passed them to Julia. Sue's original notes on the case were attached to the reports with paper clips.
    "Caucasian male, aged approximately 30, found on the shore of the Mississippi by some kids," Julia paraphrased aloud. "Decapitated. Disemboweled. Fingerprint check came up empty."
    "Ooh, that was a good one," Sue said, affecting a wistful sigh. "I got two weeks of front page out of that one. I followed up on it about six months later. Nothing ever came of it, but I suppose the case officially is still open."
    Julia read through the next case. White female, early twenties, multiple stab wounds to the chest. Wrists slashed. Exsanguinated. The M.E. unable to determine if the blood had been drained before or after the victim's death. Possible sexual assault. Missing the tip of the right pinkie.
    Three other victims were found in various stages of mutilation. In one instance, the M.E. had determined that some sort of symbol had been carved into a ruined section of flesh. None of the investigators speculated on the possibility of ritual murder. A couple were more mundane cases that appeared to be drug-related violence. The cases were spaced one or two years apart,