The Riverman: Ted Bundy and I Hunt for the Green River Killer by Robert Keppel Page B

area. Months later, a subsequent investigation revealed that on the night of her disappearance Brenda had been dancing at the Flame Tavern and had left with a Ted look-alike who matched our description of him from Lake Sam, right down to the sling on his arm.
    The day after the initial discovery of Ball’s cranium, six German shepherd search dogs, their handlers, and I combed the Taylor Mountain site, hoping to find more bones. We met at the intersection of the power line road and Highway 18. Our first mission was to find the marked location of Ball’s skull and spread out from there, searching for the rest of her skeleton. I thought I’d be able to walk directly to the site. Unfortunately, a day earlier, I hadn’t paid much attention to the markers placed on trees by the foresters. Their red tags were too far apart, and the density of the forest madeit difficult to determine where the next one would be. Suddenly, I was lost. The forest was a blizzard of vine maple branches dripping water from a recent rainfall, and we quickly became soaked to the skin. The dog handlers and I decided to split up. We all headed out in different directions, and whoever found the path first was to call out to the others.
    I had just walked down into a narrow hollow between two hillsides when I heard a handler yell that he had found the marked location about 25 yards away. The darkened forest was so thick that I couldn’t see him from where I was standing. As I began to stumble toward the sound of his voice, an unforgiving maple branch smacked my legs out from under me and down I went, face to the ground. With my hands firmly pushing against the wet, slimy leaves, I pushed myself up as far as my knees. By this time, I was reeling at the pain in my knee again and wishing I had never played basketball. My contact lenses were a blur. As fate would have it, 4 feet from my squinting eyes sat another cranium, obviously sunbleached and clean from exposure to the elements. It had been there a long time—a branch had grown through the opening in the facial bones of the skull. A 6-inch radial fracture extended up the center of the skull from its base. Without hesitation, I recognized the brilliant-white bridgework of Susan Elaine Rancourt, a coed missing since April 17, 1974, from Central Washington State College, which was over 150 miles away to the east.
    With embarrassing glee, I yelled to the others that I had found a cranium. I was sickened at the thought of how joyful I was. However, the evidence of another major skeletal discovery was unfolding, and I felt the weight of the world settle on my shoulders at the thought of finding more clues that would help me track this killer. The extent of this killer’s crimes was growing as more of the pieces of the puzzle came together.
    As the handlers rushed toward me with their eager search dogs sniffing the ground ahead of them, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t want them anywhere near this cranium. Dogs don’t care where they put their paws. Crucial evidence could be destroyed or altered if the dogs ran through this site. A basic tenet of Criminal Investigation 101 was racing through my head: protect the scene. But it was too late. Almost on cue, and certainly by accident, a dog’s paw struck the ground and a human jawbone erupted through the leafy surface. I yelled for everyone to stay back, but within afew seconds another dog walked across the leaves and dislodged another human jawbone. Then another dog stepped on another mandible. In stunned amazement, we all realized that a detailed search of the mountainside was required. At the very least, we had just discovered the remains of two people.
    While I drove to a telephone to break the news to Captain Nick Mackie, an ESAR dog handler specifically marked the area by running a string line due north of the quarter-sectional marker at the intersection of the power line road and Highway 18. Eleven hundred feet from the corner, the string line