Cold Truth

by Mary Stone

  “You would think.” Jillian’s fingers resumed typing.

  “I wonder how many people are never reported missing in any capacity. Even with this many listed here, there still seems to be more Jane and John Does waiting to be claimed than families looking for their loved ones. It’s sad when you think about it.”

  “I try not to think about it too much. You can’t make people care about each other.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Ellie tilted her head in agreement as she thought about the rows of unsolved cases. “Thank you for helping me with this. I’m not sure I could get through so many without your help.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s nice to have something to occupy my time between waiting for people to check out evidence and ask me questions like I’m a walking encyclopedia. It feels like some of them have never seen a computer before.”

  “I know the feeling.” Ellie laughed, rubbing eyes that were already starting to get tired. “I’m not sure what they would do without you either.”

  “The world would screech to a halt.” Her silver eyes twinkled when she said it with a flourish.

  “That’s probably truer than you realize. Doesn’t that stress you out?”

  Jillian’s shoulders lifted a fraction. “Not one bit. It’s nice to be needed. It’s also nice to finally dig into a case rather than just be the gatekeeper.”

  “That’s what I’m going to call you now, Gatekeeper. Like on Ghostbusters.” Ellie laughed, and Jillian shuddered in response and made a growling sound like Zuul, the Gatekeeper, while miming turning a key in the lock before throwing it away.

  They went back to work, keyboards clicking the only sound for a long time. Even divided between them, it was a lot of ground to cover.

  “I can see why Fortis was worried about me getting attached to cases,” Ellie said, breaking the long silence. “I’ve found several I want to write down already so I can investigate on my own later if they don’t end up on his list.”

  “There are people who make a good living doing just that.”

  Ellie scrunched her nose up. “I’m afraid to ask how they make money.”

  “Rewards.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  Ellie’s eyes were dry and gritty when she leaned back in the chair hours later and let out a moan of frustration. “It’s almost lunchtime. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to get discouraged.”

  “There’s a reason cases go cold.”

  “Not our case, though. We can’t blame it on normal circumstances. It wasn’t worked thoroughly because Detective Jones had already mentally checked out before the bodies were found. On the bright side, maybe we’ll crack it wide open, and they’ll let me work current cases.”

  “Cracking a case isn’t like it is on the movies.”

  Ellie shot Jillian a hard look, wondering if she was getting hangry, the universal word for hungry-angry. “I know that, but I think we have a better chance than normal on this case. It’s not like he tried that hard, right? There’s plenty of new information to discover. We just have to know where to look.”

  “Except, whatever evidence was still there when he dropped the ball is gone now. Washed away or just lost. If we’d had the case in the first forty-eight hours, it would be different. I don’t think there’s anything about this case that gives us an advantage over Jones, no matter how incompetent he was.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Miss Optimistic.”

  They both laughed.

  “Fine. I’ll stop being a realist if you stop trying to convince yourself this is going to be easy.”

  “I know it’s not.”

  “Good.” Jillian's face was serious, her eyes worried as she glanced at Ellie. “I don’t want you to get your heart broken over these women. I want to find out what happened to them, too, but we have to accept that we may never know the truth.”

  “As long as I know I did my best, I can accept that.” But Ellie wasn’t so sure that was true. She was determined to see this case through, even if that meant defying Fortis and working it long after her time was up. The two women drew Ellie to them in a way she couldn’t explain. She was invested now, and completely obsessed.

  Is that a bad thing? Everyone deserved justice.

  Her computer gave a low, audible click to let her know the search was done. “Oh, good. Only a hundred more search results to wade through. That’s not going to take forever.”

  “Maybe we should go to lunch and come at it again with fresh eyes. After a while, all the pictures and faces start looking the same.”

  “You’re probably right.” Ellie sat with her chin in her hand, scrolling through the pictures of missing women, her eyes starting to glaze over.

  “I’m hungry, and I don’t work well when I’m hungry.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Ellie filed that bit of information back for later. “Let me finish up this group, and I’ll get lunch with you. I’m almost done.” Her sigh was heavy as she scrolled on. “There are so many women that are never fo—” Her hand froze on the mouse. “Holy crap.”

  “What?” Jillian shot up from her desk and hurried to stand beside Ellie. She peered down at the screen and went rigid. “Oh, wow.”

  “I think that’s them.” Ellie clicked on the post on a missing persons website and scanned through all the pictures. “Roommates Tabitha Baker and Mabel Vicente. Both twenty-two and founding members of Students With A Purpose. It looks like they were active in the community and online until they disappeared.” Ellie read through the description, her brow furrowing. “That’s strange. They weren’t even reported missing until three months after the women’s bodies were found.”

  “That is weird. Maybe it’s not them.”

  “These cases are definitely related to each other. They were last seen on the same day, and they lived together and—” She sucked in a quick breath. “They weren’t just friends. It says here they were longtime girlfriends.”

  Jillian leaned in closer behind Ellie. “Where did they go missing from?”

  “Let me see, oh there it is.” Ellie whistled low beneath her breath. “No wonder they didn’t come up on any police database. It says here they were attending an outreach program to build filtration systems for villages that don’t have access to clean water.” She looked pointedly at Jillian. “In Ghana.”

  “There’s no way to transport a body that far without someone noticing, so they obviously didn’t make it to Ghana. Or if they did, they were taken as soon as they returned home. Is there any other information?”

  “Not much, but their next of kin are listed here. Both families live just outside of Charleston.” She wrote down the phone numbers and addresses for both women. “One of these is almost an hour away, but the other one is in Lincolnville.”

  “That explains why they didn’t hear about the bodies dumped at West Ashley Park.”

  “Not really. Everyone was talking about that case, and even after the police announced they’d exhausted their leads, people still wondered.” Ellie compared the pictures of the women to the police sketches from the evidence. “Even though the pictures don’t look that much like the composite sketches, usually families come forward if there’s even the slightest possibility it’s their child.”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation. People don’t just stop caring about their daughters.” Jillian frowned. “Unless it’s because they were dating. I’ve heard of families disowning their kids when they come out.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why they wouldn’t come forward when the bodies were discovered. Death has a way of letting us know that life is too precious to waste.”

  “Sorry, but not always.” Jillian pursed her lips, like she was about to impart something on Ellie that she’d been sheltered from. “I’ve seen some crazy things since I started working here. I’m just warning you that you might not get much out of the families.”

  “Well, I have to try. Wanna come with me?”

  Jil
lian’s face fell in disappointment. “I wish I could, but I have other things I need to be working on. I can’t leave for that long anyway.”

  “Just thought I’d offer, I know you really care about this case.”

  “Only one of us is actually a detective,” Jillian teased. “But you shouldn’t go alone. Maybe you can tell Fortis, and he’ll have one of the other detectives go with you.”

  “No way.” Ellie shook her head. “I’m not going to let one of those other guys take credit for solving the case when we worked so hard. Besides, it’s not like I’m interviewing a suspect. They’re grieving families.”

  “You never know.” Jillian gave her a warning look.

  “You watch way too many crime shows. I’ll be fine.”

  “Want me to cover for you?”

  “You don’t have to. Just tell Fortis you don’t know where I went if he asks you.”

  Jillian shot her an are you crazy look. “Be careful, all right? You know what the statistics say about women who are murdered?”

  “I know, I know. Most women are murdered by someone they trust. I’ll keep my eyes and my ears open. If I have any issues, I’ll call the department.”

  “If you haven’t come back by five, I’m sending in the cavalry.”

  Ellie checked her watch. “It’s not even noon.”

  “That’s right. You should have plenty of time to interview them both and get home by then.”

  “I’ll call you.” Ellie grabbed the evidence collection kit from the large bottom drawer of her desk and sent everything to the printer—the missing person post and the addresses of both families. On the top of the printed out pile were the composite sketches and her notes from the scene.

  “You’d better.” She had her purse and was locking up by the time Ellie had everything she needed. “Please be careful,” Jillian told her again when they parted ways out in the parking lot.

  “I will,” Ellie promised one last time. Then she got into her car and headed down the highway toward Lincolnville. “Promises, promises.”

  She’d be careful, but she wouldn’t let anything stand in her way of finding justice for these women.

  22

  The little house on Calhoun Street was painted white with blue trim. Surrounded by manicured trees and a blanket of green grass without a weed in sight, it looked more like a picture out of a magazine than a place real people lived. But when Ellie knocked on the door, a tall blonde woman with striking blue eyes answered. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone pleasant.

  “I’m Ellie Kline with Charleston Homicide Division,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft. “Is it all right if I come in?”

  The woman’s eyebrows knitted together, and her forehead furrowed. “Who are you looking for? This is the Baker residence.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I’m pretty sure I don’t know any murderers.”

  “I just have a few questions.” Ellie glanced over her shoulder for a moment, scanning the neighboring houses, then turned back to Mrs. Baker. “It will only take a minute. I just don’t want to feed the rumor mill. You know how some neighbors love to gossip.”

  Mrs. Baker looked past Ellie, then sighed and nodded. “Miss Harris is the worst, and she’s already watching us through the curtain. I’d rather not deal with the fallout of that woman’s wild imagination.” She stepped out of the way, waving her inside. “Come on in.”

  Ellie followed her through the house to the living room and sank into a plush loveseat.

  “Like I said, I’m not sure how I can help you. I don’t really know anyone that would do that sort of thing. I mean, well, I—” she sputtered, waving her hands as she perched on the edge of the couch. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know why you’re here.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Baker, I was hoping you would look at a picture for me.”

  “A picture?” She tilted her head, and her forehead wrinkled again. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It’s actually a police sketch.” Ellie took a deep breath. “I’m working a cold case, and the woman hasn’t been identified. I’m trying to find her killer, and I came across your missing person’s ad online.”

  Mrs. Baker paled. “Where was this woman found?”

  “In Charleston.”

  A relieved smile spread across Mrs. Baker’s face. “Oh, I can save you the trouble right now. You see, my Tabitha went to Ghana, and that’s where she disappeared. I’m traveling there again in a few weeks. I have some promising leads, and I think this time I’m going to find them.”

  Ellie’s heart clenched in her chest. “How many trips to Ghana have you made?”

  “At least one every year since she disappeared. This will be my sixth time, my first since my husband died.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Ellie’s stomach was in knots, and the urge to get up and leave was strong. Mrs. Baker had already gone through so much, and Ellie was about to deliver another crushing blow. But she straightened her shoulders and took another deep breath, determined to see this through. “I do need you to look at the sketches, just so I can rule out Tabitha.”

  “Sure, of course.” The woman gave a wide smile, but it slipped as a thought dawned on her. “These aren’t crime scene photos?”

  “No, ma’am,” Ellie assured her. “Just a sketch like you would see on a poster. It says she had darker hair here, but we think that might be a mistake.”

  She took the picture of the second Jane Doe out of the stack and handed it to Mrs. Baker.

  “Then, it can’t be my Tabitha.” Mrs. Baker took the paper with no more reverence than if Ellie was handing her a grocery list. “My Tabitha has blonde hair like me. I’m sorry you wasted a drive out here, I wish you would’ve called first, I could have saved you the…” She glanced down at the photo, and her face went slack.

  Ellie held her breath, watching the woman.

  She swayed where she sat, mouth agape, her fingers shaking as she ran a finger over the sketch. “No,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh god, please, not my baby. Please, no.” She stood, and her knees buckled.

  Ellie jumped up and caught her before she hit the floor. Guiding her back onto the couch, Ellie moved to sit beside the trembling woman.

  “It’s not her,” Mrs. Baker screamed at Ellie. “It’s not her. This is not her. She’s in Ghana. Why are you doing this? Tabitha went to Ghana with Mabel, and they got separated from the group. She’s there, waiting for me. I have to go get my Tabitha. She’s waiting for me.” Mrs. Baker curled into a ball, clutching the sketch. The thick paper crumpled in her hand, shaking violently as Mrs. Baker fought to hold on to her last shred of hope. “This is a mistake. This can’t be real.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ellie said quietly, afraid to touch her for fear she would shatter even further.

  “You’re wrong. It’s not her.” Mrs. Baker’s voice was angry now, her words clipped. “You need to look at the woman again and fix this.”

  “Is there someone I can call to come sit with you?” Ellie soothed. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “It’s not her,” Mrs. Baker whispered in a wheedling tone, the police sketch clutched to her chest. “It’s not my Tabitha.”

  But Ellie could see reality setting in, and she knew Mrs. Baker was beginning to grasp the truth. So Ellie sat there, quietly letting the woman work through her grief and give up the little glimmer of hope that had helped keep her sane through the years.

  When her sobs quieted, Ellie placed a comforting hand on Mrs. Baker’s arm. “Do you have something I can take for a DNA comparison, and maybe a photo?”

  “DNA?” She blinked, then whispered the word again. “DNA?”

  “I’ll need definitive proof the victim is your daughter.”

  She shook her head, her face crumpling as she glanced down at the sketch again. “It’s not Tabitha.”

  “All right,” Ellie said patiently. “Something that might still have her DNA on it would help me rule her out.”

  “Okay, sure. Ru
le her out.” Mrs. Baker stood unsteadily and walked to the doorway as if floating in a haze.

  Ellie's heart was broken as she followed the woman through the house, her evidence collection kit held discreetly against her leg.

  The door snapped and creaked when Mrs. Baker opened it, the stale air taking Ellie’s breath when they walked into the large bedroom. When Ellie saw what was on the other side of the door, it knocked the rest of the wind out of her.

  “Tabitha moved her stuff home before their trip.” Mrs. Baker smiled tremulously. “It was supposed to be a six-month trip, and there was no reason for the girls to pay for a lease while they were gone, so they moved back into her room for a few weeks.”

  “They?”

  Mrs. Baker took a deep breath. “Mabel’s parents were a little hesitant to accept the girls weren’t going through a phase, so Mabel decided to stay here.”

  “I understand,” Ellie said quickly, poking her head into the adjoining bathroom. “Do you know which toothbrush and hairbrush are Tabitha’s?”

  “Of course. If it’s lime green, it’s Tabitha’s. She adored the color, even though Mabel and I both found it ridiculous.” Mrs. Baker’s laugh started low then jumped a few octaves at the end. It was clear she was holding on to her sanity by a thin thread. “Nothing matches lime green, but Mabel was a good sport.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.” Ellie ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  Using a permanent marker, she cataloged the items she took: Two toothbrushes and hairbrushes stored in separate bags, a plastic tumbler for rinsing after brushing, and a pink razor that looked like it had seen better days. Then she picked up a small frame in between the double sinks and took it back into the bedroom. “Can I take this? You’ll get it back, I just need to make a copy.”

  “I have a copy you can have.” Mrs. Baker plucked the frame out of Ellie’s hand. “I’ll print it off for you.” Mrs. Baker’s gaze landed on the bags clutched in Ellie’s hand, then she left the room without comment.