“Sounds like we have a description of what the killer is wearing, huh?”

“Probably. This one,” Germane said, pointing to the body of Doctor Jacob Curtis, “had his heart ripped out. Chest and everything just ripped through. The heart is over there in that bag,” he said, motioning with his head to a bloodied, clear plastic bag. “His name is Doctor Jacob Curtis. Lives in Manhattan. From what his associates down in the city say, he came up here almost every weekend to work with the owner of this lodge.”

“May I assume that this one here,” Ralph said, pointing to the third body, “is the aforementioned owner of this place?”

“Actually, no. According to his driver’s license and car registration, his name is Doctor Peter Adams. Lives outside of Chicago.”

“And who owns this place?”

“Doctor William Straus. Location, unknown, but his car was spotted tearing down Route 8 around the time we figure these murders happened.”

“We put out an APB on him yet?

“That’s more for your department to handle, chief.”

“I suppose. Starting to like that Straus doctor for this whole scene.”

“That’s not what your officers are saying,” Germane said.

“I’ll deal with that later. Tell me, cause of death of this here Doctor Peter Adams.”

“Cause of death was sharp blow to the skull with a blunt instrument. Maybe a sledge hammer. He didn’t die right away. I guess that the doctors here have been working together for years. I think that...”

“I don’t want to interrupt but please don’t say anything more about what you may think. If I have everyone yapping at me what they all think, then I’ll never get to ask the questions I need to ask. Thank you. Please wait out in the hall with the others and tell whoever done all the fingerprints to come on in.”

Germane Tamorssi left without questioning Ralph and instructed Officer Mark Grace to go see the chief.

“Yes, sir,” Mark said. “You wanted to see me?”

“Did you do the fingerprinting in here?”

“Yes, sir. I did. Found only four sets. Two of the sets belonged to the two doctors here and two other sets from people who aren’t here. The fingerprints are everywhere in both rooms. One thing that is interesting is that the only sets of fingerprints in the bedroom over there,” Mark said as he motioned towards the adjoining room, “are those that probably came from the killer. And I don’t know if you checked out the bedroom yet, but the someone who lived in there was someone that the doctors didn’t want to let out.”

Ralph, surprised that he hadn’t noticed the two-inch thick rope lying stretched across the length of the room’s floor, said “Now what the hell do we have here?”

“We figured it out, chief,” Mark Grace said. “See, the rope attaches to that hook on the bedroom door.” He walked over to the large, steel door that separated the living room where the bodies were found from what appeared to be a bedroom. He expected that his chief would follow him to the door but instead Ralph stood staring at the rope, following it until the rope disappeared into the ceiling.

“I’m listening. Keep talking,” Ralph said to Mark.

“Well, that rope attaches to this metal hook on this door. The rope runs across the room, into the ceiling then comes back out in the hallway outside. You probably missed it, but there’s a ratcheting contraption in the hallway. The rope runs into the ratchet. We haven’t tested yet, but it looks like once the rope is hooked to this door, the ratchet system pulls the rope tight and makes this door impossible to open. Pretty ingenious.”

“Sounds like whoever was living in that there bedroom was someone that these good doctors wanted to contain.”

“That’s why we all think...”

“Thank you, officer,” Mark said, stopping Mark Grace mid-sentence.”

Ralph inspected every inch of the rope and system and wondered why it was made. He was sure that whoever lived in the bedroom was a suspect, but couldn’t imagine why the doctors would have a prisoner living there. And he wondered where the doctor who owned this lodge was and what may have happened to him.

“The doctors were both psychologists,” Mark added. “Maybe the person who lived in the rooms here was a violent patient.”

“A violent patient who escaped, it looks to me. Did you send those prints to a lab somewhere?”

“Yes, sir. Results aren’t in yet.”

“Thank you, officer. Tell me, who saw the lodge owner tearing down Route 8?”

“Adam Patterson and his wife. They’re yearlys. Live over on South Shore road. And the owners name is Doctor William Straus, in case you forgot.”

“Did the yearlys mention if Doctor William Straus was alone or if he had company in his car?”

“They said he was alone but couldn’t be sure. He was moving at a pretty good clip.”

“Anyone try to find out if Doctor William Straus has a cell phone we could call?”

“Not that I know of, chief. Want me to do some digging?”

“Dig away,” Ralph said, finally removing his gaze off the rope and into Mark’s eyes. “Nice job in here, officer. Now, do me another two favors, would you?”

“Anything, chief.”

“While you’re digging for Doctor William Straus’s cell number, find out what kind of car he drives and send in whoever inspected the rest of the house.”

For the next two hours, Ralph interviewed every person in the cabin. Ralph learned that several things had been taken from the cabin, including the contents of a wall safe, food, clothes, and some medical equipment. When he was done talking to everyone individually, he left the room where the bodies were, told the coroner to inspect the bodies for any other clues, and then assembled his team in the great room of the cabin. He pulled himself to his full five foot seven frame, wrenched his pants up and over his girthy beer belly, and waited for everyone to quiet down.

“Gentlemen, what we have here is a murder. Three murders, all most likely perpetrated by the same person. We can assume that the suspect is the person who lived in that prison-like room. We can assume that the doctors were afraid of him for some reason, and we can assume that they were trying to fix whatever was wrong with the person who lived in that room. We can also assume that the other victim, Roger Fay, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Basically, we can assume a hell of a lot until we find out what the hell was going on in this place.

“Now, I know none of you have ever seen a murder scene before.  And I am sure that some of you may be nervous as hell about your role in this investigation.  I have done this before. Trust me. I know y’all think that I am crazy, but I’m tasking you to trust me. I am only as crazy as I need to be. No more, and no less.