Gone After the Wind

Chapter 11: Promise

"BUT they found her sitting and leaning against the tree. If she was indeed suspended in the air, would it be strange if they hadn't noticed anything at all?" Eric wondered.

"That was the point, Eric," Cara said, looking him straight in the eye. "He hung her first, so no one would ever notice that she was here right after the storm. She was abducted the night of the storm and found four days after. The decomposition of her body wouldn't be that severe if she were dead for only four days. That's why the medical examiner couldn't give any solid details about the time of death. Because she'd been here for more than four days. He didn't keep her for that long. An overnight abduction and torture is my best guess. The crime happened after he took her, then drove here at the peak of the weather's calming stage. He knew the rangers would be scanning the place the next morning, and so he didn't waste the chance."

"Most of the snow that time hasn't yet melted, so it's rather convenient for a murderer to hide a body. Other than that, the temperature of this forest would be chilling, so the rangers wouldn't be out here that long. Until later..." Eric trailed, his mouth hanging open as the idea finally hit him.

Cara nodded, pleased that he wasn't staying clueless and seemed to be picking up the whole concept of her insight. "He didn't do all of this after the day she died. He let her bleed here, under the snow and probably still warm. See those remnants of blood?" She pointed to the smudges of blood going down from the marks to its roots. Her hands trembled from the anticipation. "It didn't become noticeable because it was already dry before you came. After the set-up, he probably came back to cut the ropes, thus, resulting in their discovery."

"Given that circumstances, what's the purpose of it?" Eric asked. "If he would dump a body, why need to go through all these lengths? He had already dropped her after the storm, and it's up to the people now whether they see it or not. And where are the ropes? There's not a single thing in the list of evidence that would have the likeness of a rope."

"A part of his scheme, perhaps? He must've brought it with him—" Her mouth gaped open when the missing pieces of the puzzle began to align with each other, completing the whole picture and finally illustrating the awaited conclusion that she had failed to see before.

The wretched wigs, limbs that were connected again, the artificial body parts that were planted as a replacement, and the ropes/strings that were intentionally punctured at the back of her body— all were attributes for one clear representation.

"Marionettes," Cara muttered hoarsely.

"What?"

"He's creating them like marionettes."

"What are you talking about? I don't follow you." Eric's eyebrows furrowed.

Frustrated that Eric hadn't still seen her point, Cara grabbed the files and pointed to the only photo where the overall appearance of the body was snapped perfectly. "Look at what he did to them. Strings that were punctured on the back to hang them, limbs that were cut but connected again, those odd artificial body parts, lips that were stretched, and vague vertical lines at the points of it. Marionnettes, Eric! It's all about marionettes!"

Staggered and clearly unsure how to properly approach her statement, Eric looked at the picture carefully. After of what felt like an eternity, his skepticism finally transmitted to recognition and certainty. His mouth dropped open.

"Damn, you're absolutely right," he muttered, shaking his head fervently. "It's so freaking obvious. Why didn't we see it back then?"

"Because he wasn't skilled on that one yet. He was a rookie back then. He had no idea about the process and how it should have been done. On top of that, his emotions were at their best on controlling his body; he didn't complete the exact image he wished to convey. If the investigation hadn't stopped, he wouldn't have had the chance to practice and continue his grim work. None of this would have happened at all. And Sandy Hupman might be still alive today."

Cara shut her eyes tightly when a pang of regret stabbed her chest, and a dozen what-ifs scenarios clouded her mind. Now that the perp had gotten good to the point where the next crimes would be extremely unpredictable, she realized how those two months had been a total waste. If she didn't let herself go ashtray, this case wouldn't go cold at all. She could have used that length of time to track him down and put an end to the seemingly infinite questions they couldn't answer in this case. And the innocent life of one bright woman wouldn't be snatched away in a blink for the sake of a sick and horrendous crime.

"There's no point in blaming ourselves now," Eric said, assuring her. "The past would remain as it was, and we can't change a single episode of it. The key is to move forward, and you've just given that today, Cara. That's enough, okay? This is actually better than what we had two months ago."

"I can't help it," Cara insisted, balling her hands into fists. Her voice pitched higher than usual. "It makes me feel enraged that he had done this because I let it. I wasted the opportunity. I didn't think of the consequences it could bring."

"Stop," Eric said, trying to knock up her senses. "You were in a tragedy. It destroyed the most essential part of your life, and you couldn't have possibly known that."

Cara saw his point and was impartially correct on that part. The tragedy would have not existed if not for the maniac who killed Marco. He was the right person to carry the blame and all the responsibilities that were tangled with it. But as far as Cara would analyze, she had the entire entity of the opportunity to prevent it, and yet, any of the sorts had not been made prior to the incidents. Can she be held accountable for that? Undoubtedly and inevitably. Though it has been a hard pill to swallow, Cara acknowledges it very well.

That's why no matter how heartwarming and alluring it was to lean onto Eric's words, she still preferred to believe that even if it was too harsh, too real to consider. Because who was she to ignore such truth? And deny the obligation of coming to terms with it?

"But I had all the cards to alter it, and yet I didn't do anything because I was too ignorant and narcissistic. You don't have to sugarcoat everything, Eric. I don't hallucinate, I know how reality differs from the one that my brain badly wished to believe." Cara looked up at the tree, glowering as though the crime was unfolding right before her eyes. "And I'm not a coward to fall into that. If he had tried so hard to hit his stride, I'd do my best to make use of my skills, too, even if that costs me anything. I promise you that."

Promising is dangerous, mostly in their job where certainty is elusive and considered as a rare phenomenon that, if not searched properly, it would stay hidden. But Cara had never been so sure and confident like this ever since she went on hiatus for two months. The fact that the killer had gone far from the normal behavior of a standard criminal had made her crumbling determination find its way to be whole again. It had become much solid and unreachable. Now she has no excuse not to consume her ardor in the investigation, and she has no plans to be dull, either. Not this time wherein the creator of the nightmare she had to deal with just announced his come back, fresh from macabre practice and very committed to completing what he started. Cara won't let him have his way, though. Before he knew it, he was already walking inside the prison, convicted of multiple murders, and had been sentenced to life in prison.