Last Dance, Last Chance

seen his car since the evening before the victim died. It wasn’t very likely he would report his car missing and then go out and commit a murder. Besides, he had an impeccable reputation.
    Dr. Gale Wilson was something of a legend in King County. He kept a small black notebook in his suit pocket and noted every autopsy he performed. When he testified in court, he always began by giving the latest tally. By the time he retired, he had done more than 40,000 autopsies.
    However, this autopsy was far more troubling than most. This was the work of a sadistic sociopath. Although about 3 percent of all males and 1 percent of females are deemed to be sociopaths, only a tiny, tiny percentage of those people are diagnosed as sadistic. Sadists enjoy hurting people.
    The person who had done this terrible damage to the victim before them had to be caught as soon as possible. Because of the rape, they were looking for a male. Whoever he was, if he had done it once, he would do it again, and Don Sprinkle and Austin Seth vowed that they were not going to allow that to happen.
    Patrol officers and detectives who had spread out to search the entire neighborhood near Sand Point Way discovered women’s clothing that had been tossed onto the median strip of the boulevard for two or three miles. They gathered the items up carefully and put them into evidence bags. There were slacks, a white blouse, panties, and stockings. All appeared to match the size of the dead woman.
    The sweater that had been thrown over the woman in the ditch was drying on a rack in the homicide unit. When the detectives examined it more closely, they saw a name tag sewn inside the collar. It read “Velda Woodcock.”
    Sergeant O’Mera asked detectives H. W. Vosper and Stan Bowerman to check the Seattle phone book for the name Woodcock. They found sixteen Woodcock listings and began to dial them one by one. The tenth call went to a Mrs. Leona Woodcock, who lived on 43rd Avenue N.E. That address was fairly close to where the victim’s body had been found.
    A woman with a young voice answered, and when Vosper asked for Velda Woodcock, she surprised him.
    “I’m Velda Woodcock,” she said.
    Vosper identified himself, and Velda immediately asked, “Is it about my sister? My sister, Donna, didn’t come home last night. Was she in an accident? My mother and I have been so worried.”
    Vosper didn’t want to give her the terrible news over the phone. He said that his sergeant was on the way to her house to talk with her. But noting the address, Sergeant O’Mera immediately called Captain Chaffee, who could get there a lot quicker.
    At the Woodcock home, Chaffee met Velda, who was only eighteen, and her mother. Both of them were shaking with apprehension.
    “We’re not certain that the woman we’re inquiring about is your sister,” Chaffee said. “Could you describe her to me—maybe tell me a little bit about her?”
    “Has something happened to her?” Velda asked nervously.
    “We don’t know—” Chaffee said. In this situation it was difficult to know what to say. The woman and the girl in front of him really didn’t want to know the truth, but Velda’s words came rushing out.
    “My sister is 22,” she said, “and she’s really pretty. She has long red hair and blue eyes, and she’s about five feet, five. She’s a really nice person, and she would never want us to worry about her—”
    “Where does she work?”
    “She works hard because she has a lot of ambition,” Velda said. “She’s studying law, so she has to work nights. She works at the Triple XXX Barrel drive-in on Bothell Way. She used to be a receptionist in a doctor’s office, but she didn’t make enough to pay for school, so she took the carhop job. She gets big tips. That’s why she works the night shift. The tips are bigger at night.”
    “What time does she usually get home?”
    “Her shift is over at 3 A.M. ,” Velda said, her words tumbling one on top of the other. “She always comes straight home. She doesn’t have a car, but she usually gets a ride with one of the other employees, or maybe with some guy she knows if one of them comes by at closing time. But she didn’t come home last night at all, and she didn’t even call. She always calls.”
    Velda Woodcock was fighting back tears now. “Please tell us. Was she in an accident? Is she in the hospital?”
    There was no way to tell the victim’s mother and sister and not have it hurt. Chaffee took a deep