Last week I was at the big bookstore downtown when I stumbled upon a table with books from local authors by a DIY publisher. I spotted a book with the title “The Forestland Murders” in some poorly-rendered font by Abby Skorotzski. The back cover said it was a story about an illusive serial killer and the cops who track him. I doubt there’s more than one Abby Skorotzski in the area, so I decided I’d buy the book. She always said she wanted to write a book, so kudos to her for getting it done. Plus, they say, “Write what you know,” so maybe the trip we took to Vancouver together somehow made it in the story.
I was amazed to find the following passage on page 37.
Linda asked her partner David if the crime scene was the most horrific that he had seen. David had been in the business for years and had witnessed nearly everything, but was obviously shaken. He apologized to Linda.
“Sorry,” David said, rubbing his hat in his hands. “I just had a flashback to this one sicko we arrested in ’92. This guy kept his daughter locked in the basement her whole life, repeatedly raping and beating her. She apparently had four kids with the creep. They were preserved in jars of formaldehyde within his daughter’s view but not her reach. The poor girl also had to live with the crudely mummified remains of her mother. I still have nightmares of that discovery.”
“I think I remember seeing that story on the news. The perp was Wilt Divide, wasn’t it?” Linda asked.