Read Online The Killing Kind by M. William Phelps - Free Book Online
Authors: M. William Phelps
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alarmed, and she didn’t seem to be too hung up on any connections between her boyfriend and her dead sister and Randi Saldana. She had been with Danny Hembree just about every day, for weeks and months. He was no killer. He was a lot of things, Nicole believed, but a serial killer?
No way.
They hung up.
Nick spent the night worrying. Since the day he had found out his daughter was dead, Nick gave up drinking and hadn’t touched a drop. Now he was worried sick that his only living daughter was going to wind up in a ditch somewhere between Florida and North Carolina.
What Nick didn’t know then was that law enforcement had the same concern.
“We worried Nicole was going to be next,” one detective told me. “The clock was ticking.”
CHAPTER 19
A cold chill fell over those towns within the York County boundary where Randi and Heather had been found. Not from the weather. This was an ominous, gloomy, unspoken sentiment: It appeared that a sadistic serial killer was roaming the streets in search of his next victim. Residents looked at one another squint-eyed and accusatory: Is it you? After all, until this guy was behind bars, it didn’t seem young females were safe to walk the streets. Over at the Bear’s Den, a local bar outside one of the gates into the park where Randi had been found, patrons did a lot of head shaking, wondering to themselves what was going on within their otherwise calm, pleasant Southern community. One guy, taking a moment from his drink to talk to a local reporter, couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Right there, just beyond the doors of the tavern, someone had tried covering up a murder by burning a human body—a woman, no less.
“I’m worried for all the small girls,” that man told a local-television news outlet. “That’s who they seem to be hitting on, and like [everyone] said, it might be a serial killer.”
Law enforcement didn’t want to take chances. Police departments sent out warnings. More than they had in the past, men probably said “I love you” to their daughters and wives whenever they parted ways. Several women went on record to the local newspapers saying how scared they were, but they did not want to use their names, fearing, of course, that a serial killer was watching, listening, targeting.
The YCSO caught up with Tim Gause, the guy Randi had been living with at the time of her disappearance. In speaking with Tim, the YCSO was able to pinpoint that on the previous Thursday, November 12, at some point that evening, Randi left the Shannon Bradley Road home in Gastonia she was staying at, a solid fifteen-mile ride north of Apple Road in Kings Mountain State Park, where her corpse had later been located.
Tim was an obvious first person of interest. When the YCSO caught up to him, he explained that Randi had left the house on Thursday night to “go see a friend.” He didn’t say who it was, or where she was headed.
“I would never hurt her for nothing in the world,” Tim told reporters. “I would never put my hands on her.”
There was a corner gas station just down the block from the house that Tim Gause and Randi Saldana lived in. Investigators picked up surveillance-camera footage from the store from a camera pointed toward their residence. Disappointingly, however, there was a tree in the way of seeing if Randi had left the house when Tim said she had.
The next few days were busy for the YCSO. There was a lot of work to do, on top of getting the word out that a potential serial killer was stalking women of the region. They were challenged to accomplish this without spreading total fear and panic throughout the community. There was a fine line in that regard. People needed to know—especially young females living high-risk lives, but investigators didn’t want to send the community into a frenzy. That would scare away potential witnesses and deter them from coming forward.
“Before another girl comes up missing,” Heather’s
No way.
They hung up.
Nick spent the night worrying. Since the day he had found out his daughter was dead, Nick gave up drinking and hadn’t touched a drop. Now he was worried sick that his only living daughter was going to wind up in a ditch somewhere between Florida and North Carolina.
What Nick didn’t know then was that law enforcement had the same concern.
“We worried Nicole was going to be next,” one detective told me. “The clock was ticking.”
CHAPTER 19
A cold chill fell over those towns within the York County boundary where Randi and Heather had been found. Not from the weather. This was an ominous, gloomy, unspoken sentiment: It appeared that a sadistic serial killer was roaming the streets in search of his next victim. Residents looked at one another squint-eyed and accusatory: Is it you? After all, until this guy was behind bars, it didn’t seem young females were safe to walk the streets. Over at the Bear’s Den, a local bar outside one of the gates into the park where Randi had been found, patrons did a lot of head shaking, wondering to themselves what was going on within their otherwise calm, pleasant Southern community. One guy, taking a moment from his drink to talk to a local reporter, couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Right there, just beyond the doors of the tavern, someone had tried covering up a murder by burning a human body—a woman, no less.
“I’m worried for all the small girls,” that man told a local-television news outlet. “That’s who they seem to be hitting on, and like [everyone] said, it might be a serial killer.”
Law enforcement didn’t want to take chances. Police departments sent out warnings. More than they had in the past, men probably said “I love you” to their daughters and wives whenever they parted ways. Several women went on record to the local newspapers saying how scared they were, but they did not want to use their names, fearing, of course, that a serial killer was watching, listening, targeting.
The YCSO caught up with Tim Gause, the guy Randi had been living with at the time of her disappearance. In speaking with Tim, the YCSO was able to pinpoint that on the previous Thursday, November 12, at some point that evening, Randi left the Shannon Bradley Road home in Gastonia she was staying at, a solid fifteen-mile ride north of Apple Road in Kings Mountain State Park, where her corpse had later been located.
Tim was an obvious first person of interest. When the YCSO caught up to him, he explained that Randi had left the house on Thursday night to “go see a friend.” He didn’t say who it was, or where she was headed.
“I would never hurt her for nothing in the world,” Tim told reporters. “I would never put my hands on her.”
There was a corner gas station just down the block from the house that Tim Gause and Randi Saldana lived in. Investigators picked up surveillance-camera footage from the store from a camera pointed toward their residence. Disappointingly, however, there was a tree in the way of seeing if Randi had left the house when Tim said she had.
The next few days were busy for the YCSO. There was a lot of work to do, on top of getting the word out that a potential serial killer was stalking women of the region. They were challenged to accomplish this without spreading total fear and panic throughout the community. There was a fine line in that regard. People needed to know—especially young females living high-risk lives, but investigators didn’t want to send the community into a frenzy. That would scare away potential witnesses and deter them from coming forward.
“Before another girl comes up missing,” Heather’s
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