Early Morning, 1st May, 1999 -
When my Aunt Prude first gifted me this journal, I had no intention of ever actually using it. Never been one for talking to people or getting my thoughts out. The last few days, however have rather disabused me of that notion to some degree regarding the current situation in Gateway. Things are rapidly becoming more complicated and I have this feeling that putting together a timeline of events as they occur will be a remarkably good idea going forward. Even if only so that I have an accurate record when I’m asked to testify in relation to it. Everything of note I find in relation to this case, I’ll put it here with a date. I’ll begin by relating the events of today, to the best of my recollection.
When they transferred me to Gateway Alaska I knew I must have pissed somebody off. Previously I had been working homicide in Chicago and, though I have no idea what I did to cause it, when those papers arrived on my desk congratulating me on my “promotion,” I just knew I’d done something to somebody. I was to be the Sheriff of Gateway Alaska, not too far from Anchorage. Could have been worse, I figured. At 40 I was starting to get up there, and I figured there wouldn’t be many homicides as smaller towns tend to mean smaller communities. So it came as a shock to me to find myself carefully navigating Alaska country roads in the dark at 4 am, on my way to a crime scene. It was only my third or fourth day there, I mean you’d think criminals would be polite enough to wait for you to settle in but apparently not. A plastic cup of coffee sat in a cup holder half drained and the buzz of the caffeine was starting to massage my tired brain to life. I pulled into the parking lot of the college campus, killed the engine of “Bertha,” my battered old land rover defender, once bright blue, and began to trudge my way across campus towards the park.
It didn’t take long for me to work out where I was going. I hadn’t been on the campus many times but the park was well signposted and the forensics people going between the scene and their large van soon confirmed I was where I needed to be. I headed out onto the field and right for the section of it, as well as a portion of the woodland beyond that was cordoned off with crime scene tape. There I saw exactly who I was expecting to see. Jane Parker was the head of Gateway’s forensics team. She was blonde, had stunning blue eyes and was majestic in the same way a Tiger or Bear is majestic. She turned to me as I approached, “Hey Jane, wonderful morning ain’t it? What we got?” She looked at her clipboard, taking a second to assess the most efficient way to explain. “Not much Ben” for this was, in fact, my first name, “Some of the kids from the college were sneaking back from a party and found some bones. They figured they were too long to be anything but human so they called us. When I got here I assumed they must have been Moose or something that a Bear got too but then I actually got to see them. They’re human alright, been here about a week, hence why you’re here and not the park service. I’ll show you.” She turned on her heel and headed off towards one of those large forensics tents. I followed after, and we entered to see, lying on a metal table inside was part of a person's skeleton, 60% as Jane would later tell me. There was no head, and below the elbow and knee most of the limbs were gone as well, but most of the torso was there. Jane gestured to a specific pattern of marks on the arm bones and I leaned in. “You see this here Ben? These are bite-marks. Probably from a wolf or coyote that got to the body. So if that’s a wolf’s bite pattern what is this?” Her gloved finger moved to the ribcage where a circular pattern of much larger marks were plain to see. “They still look like bites to me, how do we know it wasn’t a Bear?” I knew she must have been driving at something, but my brain was still stubbornly refusing to connect the dots. “These bite patterns do not match any known land animal in this area. Bears no, wolves no, and certainly not a coyote. The closest thing they line up to is, if you can believe it, a shark.” My brain began to put two and two together and get four, “there are no sharks on land,” I added insightfully, “so you’re thinking foul play?” Jane nodded and began to pack her tools away, professionally organising them. “Indeed. That isn’t everything. This isn’t the only body we have to examine tonight, and there've been three similar bodies within the last month. The last Sheriff we had didn’t want to take it seriously. I’m relieved we concur on this issue. I’ll give you a call once I know more.” She finished her sentence and continued her preparations to leave. “I’ll ask the kids what they know and take a look around. I’ll head back to the station and update you then. See ya Jane.” With that I exited the tent.
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Half an hour later I had statements from each of the kids written up. They hadn’t seen anything of whatever or whoever had left the body there but that wasn’t a surprise. No evidence of drug possession or that any of them had been indulging in anything harder than booze. None of them would have been good to drive but for the most part they were ok. After that I took my flashlight and walked into the woods a ways, just to inspect the scene where the bones were actually found. There wasn’t much to find, save some marks on a nearby tree which I photographed and the footprints of the kids. I did find one thing of note though, a torn strip of clothing that nobody had spotted. It was, at one point, white although blood had stained it deep crimson. It was bagged up for evidence and I offered to take it back with me to the station. Ten minutes of tense driving later, I was back in my office at the station having put the clothing strip into evidence. Whilst I awaited the call from Jane, I decided to look into the other bodies Jane said she had examined. Sure enough, several with the same pattern of strange bites glared back at me from my monitor.
It was gonna be a long day.
