by Blake Pierce
They spit-balled ideas back and forth for the next twenty minutes as Kate drove to the morgue. When they got there, Kate was not at all surprised to find that the effort put into Lacy Thurmond had been minimal. After all, the cut to the throat made the cause of death fairly clear.
Still, the coroner was more than willing to speak with them. He was a tall, lean man named Smith. The sort of gaunt figure you’d almost expect to work in a morgue or a funeral home. He took them to the body, laid out and prepared for the makeup artist to come in the following day to prep Lacy Thurmond for her funeral. The work to her throat was exceptional, though Kate imagined she’d need to be dressed in something with a high neck to truly cover it up.
“Any other findings at all?” Kate asked.
“Nothing,” Smith said. “No bruising, not even any sign of a forceful shove. No sexual abuse, nothing.”
“Any way to tell which stab wound came first?” Kate asked.
“I’m almost positive the cut to the neck came first,” he answered. “It makes the most sense logistically.”
Kate nodded, figuring that he was right. None of the other stab wounds would have incapacitated Lacy. One stab and she would have run. But one like that to the throat and you were basically done for right away.
“And do you recall the body of Julie Hicks from a few days ago?” Kate asked.
“Yes. Same thing there. A bunch of stab wounds, one directly to the heart. But no signs of an obvious struggle. There’s a very good chance the same knife was used based on the shape and length of the entry points.”
“Do you think we could see a copy of the report, including images of the wounds?”
“Absolutely,” Smith said. “Physical or email?”
“Email is fine,” Kate said. “We need to get going. But thank you for your time.”
Smith nodded and covered Lacy Thurmond’s body back up. Kate and DeMarco headed out of the examination room, walking down the hallway for the lobby.
“Tell me,” Kate said. “How often have you made yourself wear the Violent Crimes hat ever since you left that department?”
“Once or twice,” DeMarco answered.
“I’d like for you to dig it up and try to figure out why a man would kill two women of a similar age, similar body type, in the same neighborhood. No apparent sexual lure, no known history with the victims. Can you do that?”
“I’ve been trying ever since my drive from DC to Richmond,” DeMarco said. “And that’s just the thing…”
“What?” Kate asked.
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
***
Kate parked in front of the Thurmond home half an hour later. She’d learned through updated reports that the husband was still at the precinct, cleared of his charges but unwilling to return home. And who could blame him, really?
As Kate and DeMarco approached the house, it had the feel of a haunted house. It was quiet, eerie, its windows like eyes leering at anyone who passed by. Before entering the house, though, Kate and DeMarco made a circuit around the outside perimeter. It was, Kate assumed, the very same way the killer had seen it before knocking on the door.
As she had suspected, there was no sign of forced entry. In fact, the yard was meticulously cared for, right down to the perfect shapes of the shrubs around the back patio. As they made their way back around to the front, she tried to see the house through the eyes of not just a killer but perhaps someone who could not afford to live in such a neighborhood. It was certainly an upper-class neighborhood, but not an exclusive one. Kate felt certain that if she were to check the property values, the average price of a home in Amber Hills would be around half a million.
This train of thought at least made some sense. Jealousy, after all, could drive men to do some pretty extreme things.
They entered the Thurmond house for the second time that day. The blood had not yet been cleaned, having set into the floor almost like paint. There’d be no cleaning it out now; it would simply have to be replaced.
“What kinds of things are we looking for this time around?” DeMarco asked.
It made Kate feel even more comfortable with her to know that not only was she open to learning, but she was humble enough to ask questions. Most new agents would avoid asking questions at all costs, just to make it appear as if they had everything together.
“Well, if we can’t find motive among the victim or the crime itself, I’m hoping to find some clues within the house. The police have already ascertained that nothing was broken or stolen from what they could tell. The husband will come in later to confirm this. But at a scene as cut and dried as this one, I like to try to see the place through the eyes of someone who came here with the intent of killing.”
“You thinking maybe the hot-wife suburban lifestyle might be the motive?” DeMarco asked.
Kate had been thinking this but did not feel it with any certainty just yet. Still, she couldn’t help but think that if Lacy Thurmond had known the man well enough to answer the door for him at such a late hour, she’d apparently known him fairly well. And maybe that meant he had been inside their house before. Maybe he even had a look around when he was inside after killing her—bypassing the daughter’s room.
Thinking of the daughter, Kate looked back to DeMarco as they headed up the stairs to the second floor. “Do you mind placing a call to the Department of Social Services to see where the daughter is? Might do some good to speak with her.”
“Sure,” DeMarco said. The expression on her face made it clear that she did not appreciate the busy work but she was as diligent as ever, pulling the phone out right away.
As she started making the information request on the phone, Kate checked the first room she came to on the second floor. It was obviously the daughter’s bedroom; it was apparent by the clothes crumpled on the floor, the selection of girl-targeted paperbacks on the small bookshelf, and the set of cheering pompoms thrown up on the desk. It wasn’t a messy room per se but it was disorganized enough to make it next to impossible to tell if there had been any kind of a struggle. There was no reason to assume this, though, as the daughter had not been pursued at all.
Kate zoomed in on a picture sitting on the desk among schoolbooks and craft stuff. It was a picture of Lacy Thurmond and a pre-teen girl Kate assumed to be the daughter. They were standing on a pier by a lake and looked genuinely happy. Kate started to wonder what kind of mother Lacy had been. If this picture was any indication, the two had been close.
DeMarco stepped into the room from behind. “Just spoke with DSS,” she said. “They say the daughter is being transported to her grandparents’ in Greensboro, North Carolina. They’re asking for at least twenty-four hours before anyone speaks with her.”
“That’s understandable,” Kate said. And honestly, she wasn’t sure they even needed to speak with the daughter. She believed everything the husband was saying and part of his story was that their daughter had been in her room the entire time. According to the daughter, she’d seen and heard nothing.
The two agents scoured the house for another twenty minutes. Meeting up back in the foyer where the bloodstains remained, they both wore disappointed expressions. There had been nothing of note, not even something that could be considered a possible clue.
They left the Thurmond residence, Kate noting the presence of a patrol car parked across the street. It was good strategy, the local PD apparently hoping the killer might come walking by as a way to relive the moment. She wondered if there was another patrol car parked across from the Hicks residence.
“Want to meet for coffee in the morning?” DeMarco asked as they got into the car. “Maybe revisit everything with fresh minds and a good night’s sleep?”
Kate honestly hated to call it a night. She had at least a few more good hours in her but she also knew that DeMarco was right. They had no leads and no matter how hard they looked, they likely wouldn’t. It made Kate wonder if maybe they should speak to the daughter. Maybe she’d know of a famil
y friend they had somehow overlooked. Or maybe she’d even know some sort of secret about her mother that she’d helped to keep hidden.
“Sounds like a plan,” Kate said.
As they pulled away, she thought about Debbie Meade, wondering how she was coping with the loss of her daughter. As she thought of her, some kind of mental alarm went off in the back of her head, some indication that she may have missed something somewhere. She dug at the notion for a moment but nothing came to her. Maybe, like DeMarco said, a night’s rest would help her uncover it in the morning.
Kate drove out of Amber Hills, the case gnawing at her. She took note of the patrol car parked out of plain sight behind the large stone sign reading AMBER HILLS. One thing was for sure: if the killer did choose to strike in Amber Hills again, he’d be trapped with so many cops around. And even if Kate wasn’t there for the arrest, that was fine. Something about this case seemed more dangerous than usual. And although it was technically her first case since unofficially being asked back into the bureau, she’d be perfectly fine if someone else wrapped it up before she did.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The moment she took her shoes off back at home, Kate realized just how tired she truly was. She’d been running full tilt today and most of yesterday as well. It had been a while since she’d asked that much energy of her body and now, as a result, she was beginning to crash. She went directly to the shower and spent most of her time under the water simply soaking in the heat. She’d prided herself with staying in shape for the last year but had apparently not done as good as she thought she had. She was sore, she was tired, and the case was beginning to taunt her.
As soon as she toweled off and slipped into a shirt and a pair of jogging pants, she sat down at the kitchen table. While she was certainly exhausted, she knew she would not be able to sleep with the case nagging at her like this. And now, more than ever, she felt that she had to get results. She had to knock this one out of the park if she wanted to have another few years at the bureau. If that was a flop, the men who had been working with Duran on this experimental project would likely pull the plug. She might even lose her chance to work on some cold case files as Duran had promised.
She looked over the case files as midnight approached. The only thing she knew for sure was that neither of the murders had been a result of love or passion. Even if there were affairs involved, killers in that situation usually made it known why they were doing the killing. But this guy was striking quickly and leaving right away. It was almost like he was playing some terrible mortal prank on the victims.
All in the same neighborhood, she thought. All very pretty women. Victim Number One had no kids. Victim Number Two had one daughter, twelve years old.
Both victims married. Victim Number One had a husband who traveled a lot for work. Number Two had a husband who was actively cheating on her.
That’s when Kate’s mind turned back to the little alarm that had been blaring at her while leaving the Thurmond residence. She had been thinking about Debbie Meade, wondering how she was getting along after Julie’s funeral. There was something Debbie had said to her not too long ago, something she had shared with Kate and the other ladies during one of their little coffee get-togethers…
The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her. It actually made her jump a bit. Given the late hour, she was expecting the call to be from DeMarco or even Duran. She’d missed the days of randomly receiving calls about a case in the early morning hours and wondered if anyone every really got used to it.
But neither of their names was on her caller display. Instead, it was a name that made her heart feel like it had dropped into her stomach.
Melissa.
Oh God, she thought, thinking of that perfectly round baby-stomach her daughter had been sporting the last time they’d seen one another. She answered it quickly. Melissa was not due for another five weeks, making Kate think that this call was going to be of the bad news variety.
“Lissa?” she asked. “What’s wr—”
“Mom, I’m on the way to the hospital.”
Lissa’s voice was thin and worried—the exact opposite of how she usually sounded. Kate had not heard her daughter this scared in a very long time. It broke her heart. It also sent a flare of panic through her.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.
“My water broke. I’m having contractions and I feel sick to my stomach. There’s…there’s some blood, too.”
“How far are you from the hospital?”
“Terry’s driving…a little too fast for my taste,” Melissa said, raising her voice at the end to maybe give her husband, Terry, a clue. “But we’re about ten minutes away. Mom…I’m not due for another five weeks. Is this…am I going to be okay?”
“Five weeks isn’t too terrible,” Kate said, not absolutely sure if this was truthful or not. “It’s not ideal but it should be fine.”
“Will you come?” Melissa asked.
“Of course,” she said, biting back her tears so Melissa wouldn’t hear them and get even more worked up. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can I bring you anything?”
“No,” Melissa said, her voice sharp and hitched. It made Kate think she might be going through another contraction in that very moment. “Just you. Thanks, Mom.”
Kate opened her mouth to tell Melissa to be as calm as she could but Melissa ended the call. Kate sat there for a few seconds, looking at the phone. Her heart resumed its position in her chest and she could not dent the absolute joy that flushed through her.
It was really happening. It was happening five weeks earlier than expected, but she was going to be a grandmother. Sure, there were a few jokes about age that passed through her mind, especially with the case files in front of her, but she didn’t care.
All she could think about in that moment was her daughter and the new life she was about to bring into the world. Smiling from ear to ear, Kate swept up all of the case files into a single pile, leaving them on her bed, and then ran for her shoes by the front door.
***
After getting information from the front desk, Kate took the elevator up to the mother-baby section of the hospital. She went to the nurses’ desk, hoping to find which room Melissa had been admitted to. Maybe she’d get to see her before things got underway. She had no illusions about being in the room for the birth; that was a duty Melissa would give Terry—a duty Kate would gladly forfeit.
Yet as she reached the nurses’ station, she heard rapid footfalls coming from down the hallway behind her. She turned and saw Terry approaching. He looked frazzled, at his wits’ end. It made him look haunted because Terry Andrews always looked so confident and well put-together.
“Terry…”
“Mrs. Wise,” he said, once again ignoring her order to call her Kate. “It’s bad. They think it’s bad. She’s…”
“Terry, slow down,” she said, feeling her own spikes of fear starting to sting.
“Something’s wrong,” Terry said, tears brimming in his eyes. “They don’t know what yet. But they just took her back for an emergency C-section. Her water broke at home but we didn’t see until we got here…”
“See what?” Kate asked.
“How much blood there was. She kept telling me something was wrong and I just didn’t want to believe it.”
Kate knew she’d have to be the strong one here. She had never seen Terry so shaken up. And God only knew what it would do to Melissa to see him in this state. So swallowing her own fears, Kate took Terry’s hands and looked him in the eyes.
“You got her here safe and sound,” she told him. “You did your job and you did it every well as far as I can tell. Now the rest is up to the doctors. Let’s you and I go sit in the waiting room and let them work, okay?”
He nodded, still looking her in the eyes. And although he seemed calmer, he still would not budge until Kate pulled at his hands and led him into the waiting room. It wasn’t until her face was turned away from him that Kate allowed a few of
her own tears of fear and worry to spill down her face.
CHAPTER TWENTY
At 2:02 a.m., Michelle Elizabeth Andrews was born. She had a low birth weight and there was a scary moment of touch and go where the doctors thought they might lose her. But about half an hour after she had been removed from Melissa, she seemed to level out. And while she’d likely remain in the hospital for at least a week or so to make sure she was completely out of the woods, everything indicated that she was going to end up leaving the hospital as a healthy—albeit underweight—little baby girl.
Kate, Terry, and Terry’s parents were all informed of this as they sat in a collected group within the waiting room at 2:55. The news did Kate’s heart a world of good but her own thoughts instantly went to Melissa and her recovery.
“I’d like to see my daughter as soon as possible,” Kate said.
“You can see her now if you like,” the doctor said. “In fact, she’s been asking for you. She’s still a little woozy from the drugs, but you can see her if you like.”
Kate wept the entire way down the hall. She’d spent the last two hours or so not knowing if there was something wrong with the baby, Melissa, or both. And now that she knew that both were fine and that she was a grandmother, she was overcome with a joy like she had only ever felt when Melissa was born. She tried to have her face wiped off and her emotions together when she stepped into Melissa’s room but was pretty sure she’d done a terrible job.
Melissa was lying in bed, her head turning toward the door as it opened. She smiled at Kate and Kate returned it. Melissa looked beyond tired, incredibly frail, and almost unlike herself.
“Mom…”
Kate went to her, took her hand, and kissed her on the forehead. “You did so well,” Kate said.