by Vella Day
“How so?” he asked.
“Think about it. If this Julie woman wasn’t alone, then it’s the same situation. One person goes missing and a second victim dies. Maybe the killer is only looking for one particular type of person. Anyone nearby is killed.”
He hadn’t considered the possibility before. “George Sanchez wasn’t scalped, nor were any of the other victims.”
“You don’t know that. Did you ever find Tanya Dansler’s head? Maybe the killer scalped her.”
“God, help us.”
The sun beat down on Lara as she walked across the Fair Lawn Cemetery, each step taking more effort than the last. This was her first visit to her parents’ grave, and she mentally rehearsed what she’d tell them. Silly yes, but talking might make the hurt ache less.
Trevor was inside the cemetery building speaking with the manager, Jeffery somebody. Getting him to agree to let her visit the gravesite by herself took some doing, but he’d finally relented.
She placed fresh flowers on the two mounds and knelt in front of the engraved stone. Her throat clogged. These two wonderful people had raised her. Oh, how she missed them.
“Hey, Mom, Dad. I found my birth mother.” She held in her tears.
As the clouds swept across the blue expanse, the wind blew against her back, and two squawking birds battled above her before flying off.
She told her folks how her birth mother had spent her last days in New Mexico, dying from lung cancer. “I bet you already knew that already. The good news is that my birth grandmother and uncle treated me like one of their own.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek that had refused to stay put and rubbed a hand over the letters on the headstone, praying her parents had heard her words. She glanced at her watch and realized she’d done what she’d come here for. Trevor had asked her to keep an eye on the tractor man, the one hired to exhume George Sanchez’s body.
Saddened by all the death around her, Lara hurried across the lawn to the section dedicated to those unknown or lost souls. She appreciated Fair Lawn gave such care to those without families.
Despite the temperature in the low seventies, the humidity did a number on her energy level.
Sanchez’s gravesite was easy to find since the tractor man was working his magic near a copse of trees. Such a shame George hadn’t been identified earlier so his parents could have had him nearby.
The weathered looking man in the tractor had already dug down close to six feet. She waved to him wanting to make sure he understood the need for care.
He cut the engine to idle, and she introduced herself.
“Don’t you worry, young lady, I won’t hurt the coffin none. It’s encased in a vault to protect it.”
He must hear the concern often. “Thank you.” She stepped back to give the driver room.
A lone man, dressed in a black suit, strode across the lawn. She squinted and blocked the sun’s rays with her hand. From the way his shoulders remained rigid and his hips barely rotated, she guessed it was Mr. Hoffman, the kind funeral director who’d taken care of her families’ service. It was the weekend, and he was probably here for another funeral. Poor man. How could he be around grief day in and day out?
The giant tractor claw made a clanking sound, drawing Lara’s attention back to the large hole. She couldn’t be sure if the noise was metal hitting the cement vault or the engine misfiring. Her implant was tuned more for voices.
She stepped a little closer, checking for the container holding the casket to peek through the soil.
The funeral director stopped at her side and her pulse skipped a beat.
“What are you doing on this side of the cemetery, Ms. Romano?”
“The police are exhuming a body.”
His eyes widened. “Is that so? Who?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Detective Kinsey is right inside if you want to ask him.” She motioned with her head toward the cement building at the far end of the parking lot.
Mr. Hoffman waved a hand. “It’s no matter.”
The tractor’s engine cut off and the grizzled old man climbed down. He wiped his brow with a stained handkerchief. “I need to get some help to lift the coffin out of the heavy liner.”
“Okay.” She rechecked her watch. Trevor would be wondering what had taken her so long and turned to Mr. Hoffman. “I need to head back. My overseer job is done.”
“I’ll walk with you.” He mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “I noticed you at your parents’ grave just now and wanted to see how you were holding up.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Did he make a habit of wandering around the cemetery? Or had he come out to speak with her personally? “As well as can be expected.”
“I’m glad.” He smoothed out the lapels of his jacket. “Rolf was speaking of you the other day.”
She caught a look of pride in his eyes. “That so?”
“Yes. He was pleased you’ve done so well at HOPEFAL.”
“Thank you. Praise coming from Professor Hoffman means a lot to me.”
He nodded back over his shoulder. “Were you looking for another body to add to your list of accomplishments?”
“Perhaps.” She caught the quick clench of his fist and the tic that tugged at his right eye. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Detective Kinsey.” His hovering made her stomach queasy.
“Call me if you need anything.”
She hoped to not need him for a very long time. Or ever. All of her relatives were dead. “Will do.”
Mr. Hoffman veered toward the parking lot without looking back. She could have sworn the man had more pep in his step after their conversation.
The moment she entered the cemetery building, the cool air kissed her skin, and she dropped her head back, enjoying the relief. She was halfway to the manager’s office when Trevor appeared down the hall. He smiled and her heart twisted. He was an exceedingly handsome man, but it was his focus, determination, and caring that tugged at her heart. He’d make a good husband to somebody.
“Hey. Everything go okay?” he asked.
“Yes. The tractor man is lifting the coffin now.” Talking about work was easy. Having a conversation about her life was not.
He turned her around, placed a hand on her lower back, and walked her toward the exit. “Good. When the men are done, Jeff LaMont, the head guy here, says they’ll deliver the body to HOPEFAL.”
“I can’t wait to see how George Sanchez died, assuming it’s him.”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be the guy. The facts line up too well.” Trevor opened the front door. “Police report said the guy’s throat was slit, and he was stabbed in the heart. I think that should answer your question as to the COD.”
“I want to see if he had any drugs in his system. That might connect him to the others.”
He opened the truck’s passenger side door. “You can tell from a skeleton?”
“The earth’s temperature six feet down is a constant seventy to seventy five degrees in Tampa. There should be tissue left to do a tox screen. The coffin would protect him from complete decomposition unless someone dumped lime on him. We should see the tattoo on his shoulder too.”
“If we’re lucky.”
22
It had been three days since their visit to the cemetery, and Trevor was hovering over Lara who was sitting at the hotel room desk checking her emails. She looked over her shoulder. “Ugh.”
“What is it?”
“A message from the lab.” She read the contents twice. “There’s no ketovencuronium in George Sanchez’s system. I was so sure the same person who killed him also killed Tanya Dansler and Diana Gladstone.”
“Maybe the drug leached out of his system after he died.”
“It’s possible. I know very little about this how this drug interacts with the body. I’ll have to check with someone in the Chem Lab.”
He stepped to the side of the desk. “Are you sure the body is Sanchez’s? You said you did
n’t find a tattoo on his shoulder.”
“There was a tattoo, only it didn’t look like a snake probably because the skin had turned to leather. Kerry Markum, one of the other forensic anthropologists told me about a trick she uses to bring tattoos to life. I plan to try her technique.”
“So you might be able to tell if it’s him.”
“Yes. Just in case the technique doesn’t work, I sent his DNA to the lab. Bernie’s still on vacation, thank goodness. I’ve been told the replacement is a speed demon. We should hopefully hear in a few days.”
“Nice the lab stays open seven days a week.”
She typed ketovencuronium into Google. “I agree. And when you get the DNA sample from George’s parents we can compare the two.” Lara half turned around. “To me, the facial structure appears to match the photo, but I realize guesswork has little place in the identification process.”
Trevor dragged the large stuffed chair next to the desk. “Would the medical examiner have asked for a tox screen at the time of death?”
“Given the guy’s throat was slit, I’m betting not.” Her cell vibrated on her hip. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Lara Romano?”
“Yes.”
“This is Bladon Security System. There’s been a breach at your house. Police are on their way.”
Her stomach punched inward. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am. The alarm went off, so we’ve called the police. They’ll be able to tell you more.”
“Thank you.” Lara disconnected and fumbled to clip her phone to her waist belt.
Trevor touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“My house alarm went off. Someone might have broken in.” Her pulse soared.
He shot out of his chair and pulled her to her feet. “When?”
“Just now.”
“On a Sunday morning? That takes balls.”
Lara barely remembered the drive from their Tampa hotel to her house. Two squad cars sat in front. Trevor jerked his truck to a stop and jumped out. Lara followed him up the path to the front door.
He made a beeline toward one of the sheriff’s men and clasped the young guy’s shoulder. “What’s disturbed?”
She slipped next to Trevor and checked the front windows. Nothing looked touched.
“We don’t know yet. We haven’t been inside, but someone did a number on the back window.” The officer turned to her. His nametag read, Mortimer. “You live here, ma’am?”
“Yes.” Her stomach churned. Someone actually broke a window? Thank God she wasn’t home.
“Could you give us a key to check inside?” For some reason his soft accent calmed her.
“Sure.” She dug in her purse and handed it to him, and then turned to Trevor. “You don’t think he’s still here do you?”
“Probably not. Once the alarm sounded, he would have taken off, but we have to check anyway.”
She stepped over to the wicker porch chair and sat down.
Less than five minutes later, the front door opened, and the same young officer waved to them. She stood.
Hand gloved, Mortimer held out a scrap of a yellow material for Trevor to examine. “We found this caught in the bedroom window. It looks like the glass tore a piece of the shirt.” He turned to Lara. “Do you recognize this?”
She examined the evidence. “It’s not mine. Is there any blood on the scrap?”
“Not that we can tell, but the piece isn’t very big.”
“I can’t believe the intruder didn’t notice a four-inch square piece of fabric missing from what he was wearing.”
“Maybe the alarm scared him off and he was in a hurry,” Mortimer said.
“Could be.” She glanced up at Trevor. “It’s yellow, so I wonder if it belongs to Bernie.”
From the way Trevor had described the bustle of the office on an average day, the sheriff’s department seemed particularly empty for a Monday morning. Lara’s previous visits had been at night.
Trevor turned toward the desk next to his. Caleb Crumpton had been assigned to work the B&E at her place. “You find anything out about the burglary at the Romano place yesterday morning?”
Caleb cut a look at Lara, and then back at Trevor. “I sent Chris Mortimer over to Bernie Laxman’s house right after the break-in, but no one was home. Mortimer went again this morning to see what he could learn. I’m waiting to hear back.”
An intruder in her house for a second time gnawed at her insides. Knowing Trevor, he’d tell her she’d never be able to move home. This time, she might agree.
“Speak of the devil.” Caleb nodded to the young officer with the accent. “What’d you learn?”
Mortimer pulled out a pad and nodded to her. “Ms. Romano.” His cheeks colored and he faced Trevor and Officer Crumpton. “Laxman wasn’t home this time either, but his dad was. He said his son had gone camping at the Ocala State Park for the week.”
She reached over and touched Trevor’s hand. “Phil told me the same thing, but Bernie should have been back yesterday.” She checked her watch and turned back to Officer Mortimer. “Did you check HOPEFAL, where he works?”
“No, ma’am, but I’ll get right on it.”
Once Officer Mortimer retreated, Caleb spun his chair toward her. “You said a few pieces of jewelry were taken. Do you have a photo of the stolen pieces?”
“No. I only have shots of those I’ve insured. There were only three items taken. One of the necklaces I’d purchased years ago during a trip abroad wasn’t worth much. The other two were the set I just received.” From the stalker.
“Nothing else? No rings taken, no electronic equipment removed?”
“Uh, uh.”
Trevor shot his gaze to her, then Caleb. “It’s possible the same person who stole the set of Native American jewelry gave it to her in the first place.”
“Are you saying the thief was an Indian giver?” He patted his belly.
“It’s possible.”
“I’ll have a little talk with Mr. Laxman, myself,” Crumpton said. “He might be willing to let me check Bernie’s room. Hell, the guy might have even have stashed the jewelry at his house, never expecting us to finger him so quickly.”
“Good luck,” she said.
Trevor pulled a phone book off his desk. “I’ll call around to some pawn shops to see if any jewelry matching the description has shown up.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get him. Don’t worry.”
Lara stilled at the loud knock on the hotel room door.
“I’ll get it.” Trevor pulled back the room drapes and his shoulders relaxed. “It’s Ethan.”
His brother entered, and the fresh outside air blew in. The sparkle in his eyes implied he’d found something.
“We hit pay dirt,” Ethan said, as he plopped down in the chair next to the table.
Trevor slid over to the two-person table, and she moved to the edge of the bed. “Tell us,” Trevor said.
“Mr. Laxman let Crumpton have free reign of his home. Caleb wanted to tell you himself, but I wouldn’t divulge your location.”
“I appreciate that,” Trevor said. “I take it his son wasn’t there?”
“Right. Caleb found a yellow T-shirt with a chunk taken out of it.”
Trevor whistled. “His dad let Caleb take it without a warrant?”
“He swears there’s some mistake and wants us to clear it up.”
Lara forced her breathing to slow. “Will you arrest Bernie?”
Ethan’s lips thinned. “When we find him. Phil said Bernie called early this morning and asked for a few more days off, saying he was enjoying his vacation too much. Phil knew what was up and didn’t want to tip the guy off, but we’ll ask the cops up there to check out the area.”
“Did the officer find my jewelry at his house?”
“Not yet.” Ethan’s cell rang. “Kinsey.” Any joy he had in his eyes dimmed. “You wanna meet me at the scene? ... Give me, say, twenty min
utes. Later.” He hung up and pocketed his phone.
“What is it?” Trevor asked.
“There might have been a witness to the Julie Bowman murder.”
There had been so many women killed, she had a hard time keeping track of them. “Was she the one in the woods? The one who was scalped?”
“Yes. Apparently, one of the neighbors likes to walk her dog every night and saw a suspicious man around there for a few days.”
“She didn’t call the cops right away?” Trevor asked.
“The man had a different disguise each time she saw him, so at first she didn’t think anything of it. By the third day, she suspected it was the same man, because of his peculiar gait. Then she called us.” Ethan stood. “I’m meeting Wolfe there. I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”
Bernie recently had fallen off a ladder and now limped. Dear God.
The ringing phone woke Trevor up. At least when he answered the call, his conversation wouldn’t bother Lara since she never wore her implant to bed. It was probably Ethan reporting back on the Julie Bowman witness, though why call this late? He’d been in a deep sleep for once. “Kinsey.”
“It’s Willard.”
Trevor focused on the glowing numbers on the clock and bolted upright. Four a.m. His captain never called unless it was an emergency. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you, but I believe Ethan’s been shot.”
Trevor’s body nearly stopped functioning. “Shot?” The word stuck in his throat.
Light, he needed light. The darkness made the reality worse. He clicked on the tableside lamp.
“Yes, but here’s the strange part. He’s missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?” His brain stopped working. “What happened?” He tossed the covers off the bed.
“I’d have told you in person, but only Ethan knew where you’re staying. Can you meet me at Tampa General?”
“I thought you said Ethan was missing.” The captain wasn’t making any sense.
“Wolfe’s in the hospital. He was with Ethan at the time. I’m hoping when Derek comes to, we’ll know more.”