Carlton Smith - The Carlton Smith True Crime Collection: Fatal Charm, Dying for Daddy, Cold-Blooded, and Killing Season

The Carlton Smith True Crime Collection

Fatal Charm, Dying for Daddy, Cold-Blooded, and Killing Season

Carlton Smith

CONTENTS

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Fatal Charm Copyright 1993 by Carlton Smith

Dying for Daddy Copyright 1998 by Carlton Smith

Cold-Blooded Copyright 2004 by Carlton Smith

Killing Season Copyright 1994 by Carlton Smith

Cover design by Amanda Shaffer

ISBN: 978-1-5040-5376-1

This edition published in 2018 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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CARLTON SMITH

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Fatal Charm

The Shocking True Story of Serial Wife Killer Randy Roth

CONTENTS

THE LAKE

1 The Hottest Day of the Year

It had been the hottest day of the year, and as the long afternoon drew on toward evening, the two boys sat on the beach and peered out across the lake, arguing idly. Tyson Baumgartner, eleven, thought he could see the rubber raft; his brother Rylie, nine, was certain he couldnt. I think I see them, Tyson said. Where? said Rylie, doubting it.

The lake was Lake Sammamish, one of the Seattle areas most popular recreation spots, and on a day as hot as July 23, 1991, when the temperature was nearly one hundred, the water was filled with motorboats churning endlessly up and down, some towing skiers, others heading into or away from shore. With all the waves and the boat traffic, the low-riding, small gray inflatable was easy to overlook.

Yep, said Tyson, thats them. But I dont see Mom.

Shes probably lying in the bottom, sunbathing, Rylie said.

The two brothers watched as the raft picked its way through the boat traffic. A shirtless man in dark glasses was rowing steadily but not with any particular haste. As the tiny craft neared the roped-off swimming area, the rower turned around so he was facing the beach and began to push the raft in toward the shore with the two plastic oars. It took longer, but the rower didnt seem to mind. The boys saw that the raft was pointed toward the south end of the swimming area. They walked over to meet it as it neared the shore. Yep, it was Randy all right.

Keep your raft twenty-five yards away from the swimming area, a lifeguard boomed through a bullhorn, but the man kept on rowing. When the lifeguard called out again, the rower looked up, puzzled, as if to say, Who, me? Then the raft reached the beach, and the man in the sunglasses got out and started pulling the craft up on the sand, ignoring the two boys.

Tyson and Rylie looked down into the well of the raft and saw their mother. She was lying in about four inches of water. Her blond hair hung in wet, unruly, tangled strands across her face. Her eyes were vacant. Her face and upper torso were blue. She wasnt breathing. She lay completely still. She wasnt sunbathing.

The man in the sunglasses turned to Tyson and spoke quietly.

Go get the lifeguard, he said. Ask him for help. But dont make a commotion.

There were probably three or four hundred people on the beach that day, and so ordinary was the landing of the rubber raft only a few paid any attention. The nearest lifeguard barely gave the raft a glance as it came ashore. Now, as Michael McFaddens eyes habitually scanned the roped-off swimming area for swimmers in trouble, he gave little notice to the two boys calling up to him in his elevated seat. They wanted help with something, but McFadden wasnt sure with what, exactly.

I cant leave the chair right now, McFadden said. Go up to the lifeguard shack, they can help you there. Then, out of the corner of his eye, McFadden caught a glimpse of something strange about the raft thirty yards away.

Eighty-eight! Eighty-eight! McFadden screamed, calling the lifeguards emergency signal. He jumped down onto the sand and went into a sprint, nearly knocking over a couple of people as he ran. Another lifeguard, hearing McFaddens alarm, raised her megaphone: Clear the water! Clear the water! she shouted. The urgency of the shout froze everyone for an instant. Then there was chaos as everyone tried to get out of the water at the same time.