In his rush, Kravitz never noticed the mistake. He drove the cleaned-out car to a quiet residential neighborhood in a neighboring town. After wiping down the steering wheel and door handles, he disappeared into the morning haze.
He was completely certain of his own safety. Two days later, local police received a missing person report on Susan Orloff. The moment Detective Savelly heard the name and occupation, he went still.
This was the fourth victim with the exact same profile. The detective dropped everything and drove out at once. And that was when luck finally broke in the investigation’s favor.
A group of boys swimming in the river stumbled across a strange, foul-smelling bundle near the bank. Frightened, they ran to get adults. When the bundle was carefully opened, even seasoned officers turned pale.
Savelly understood immediately that this was their best—and maybe only—real chance. He ordered the area sealed off and called in divers. They were to comb every inch of the riverbed.
The overconfident killer had made his first truly serious mistake. That one error might cost him the freedom he had enjoyed for nearly a year. The discovery gave investigators what they had been desperate for: a real crime scene.
Divers worked in shifts for two straight days. They eventually brought up three more swollen canvas sacks from the bottom.
Inside were the remaining parts of Susan Orloff’s dismembered body. As in the earlier case, the head was never found. But in one sack, preserved in thick silt, forensic technicians found a genuine break.
It was an ordinary coarse produce sack, the kind used for potatoes. But the cord tying it shut was unusual. It was a length of imported twine reinforced with thin green line.
That kind of packaging cord was used only by large suppliers handling oversized goods. Investigators quickly learned that only one logistics company in the country imported that material. It was sold in bulk only to closed distribution yards and major building supply centers.
It was the first truly meaningful physical lead in the case. The second was even better. In the folds of the victim’s clothing, technicians found microscopic soil particles that did not match the riverbank.
Lab analysis showed traces of cement dust and fine sawdust. The wood particles came from fresh pine. The picture was beginning to sharpen.
The killer clearly had ties to building supply sites or lumber operations. Savelly immediately sent every available officer to work the city’s markets and wholesale yards. Detectives spent long days interviewing hundreds of workers and showing them samples of the unusual imported twine.
At the same time, they searched for a tall, powerfully built, very quiet man with a square jaw. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but there was no other path forward. Meanwhile, panic among local businesswomen reached a fever pitch.
Tabloids ran screaming headlines. Reporters breathlessly claimed that an elusive killer had opened hunting season on successful women in business. The story quickly picked up wild rumors and embellishments.
Women who had felt perfectly secure just weeks earlier began hiring private security. Many refused to drive alone, especially after dark. The killer’s nickname became a dark local legend.
Oddly enough, that public panic ended up helping the investigation. A frightened woman named Veronica Owens, owner of a successful furniture store, came to police and said that a month earlier she had hired a laborer who looked strikingly like the newspaper sketch…
