by Lisa Harris
“You seriously didn’t.” Mitch sat up.
“Remember that long, boring stakeout back in June?”
“You copied my black book?”
Carlos shrugged. “You were sleeping. It was lying on the floorboard.”
“And you couldn’t just leave it alone.”
Carlos’s smile broadened. “Oh, I knew I’d need some leverage one day.”
“Sleep or no sleep, I’d watch your back if I were you, Mitch.” Avery laughed.
Eight years in the marines as a military interrogator had taught Carlos James Dias how to handle an investigation. And apparently, Mitch as well.
She cleared her throat. “Now, boys, back to our investigation. What about James Philips, and don’t give me another dead end—or wisecrack, for that matter, Mitch.”
“Not another dead end, just nothing new. Yet,” Tory offered. “The bar next to the crime scene has a video camera on the street. We’re planning to go through the footage this morning. Hopefully we’ll get lucky.”
“Good.” Avery let out a sharp breath of air. “Listen. We’re looking at a possible serial killer, which means that time isn’t on our side. Let’s make some progress today.”
Her phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket. “Detective North.”
As soon as she finished the conversation, Avery shoved her phone back into her pocket and grabbed her keys off the desk. Maybe their luck was about to change. “Mitch, you’re with me. They’ve just identified our Jane Doe.”
Thirty minutes later, Avery parked her car in front of the Sourns’ two-story home. The stacked-stone exterior and perfectly landscaped yard set right behind the golf course easily added up to a million-dollar price tag. This was a place that might actually impress Mama.
Mitch let out a low whistle as he exited the car. “What I wouldn’t do for a paycheck that could afford this place.”
“Then you’re in the wrong line of work.” Avery matched Mitch’s steps as they made their way up the stone steps leading to the front door. “I knew this address was upscale, but this wasn’t at all what I was expecting when we found the body yesterday. Her clothes, hair—nothing about her fits this upper-class profile.”
Avery knocked on the door, tapping her foot on the welcome mat. She took a deep breath. The only thing worse than finding a dead body was having to inform the family of their loss.
A woman in her midfifties with olive skin and dark hair opened the door.
“Mrs. Sourn?”
“Yes.” The woman’s eyes narrowed.
Mitch held up his badge and identified them.
“We understand that you called in a missing person report for your niece.”
“Yes. Tala.” Mrs. Sourn pressed her hands against her chest. “Did you find her? When she didn’t come home, I . . . I didn’t know what to think.”
Avery searched for the right words. Telling a family member they’d just lost someone was never easy. First of all, Mrs. Sourn was going to need the support of friends or family. “Is there anyone else in the house with you?”
“No, but please . . . tell me where she is.”
“Would you mind if we came in and sat down for a few minutes?”
The woman blinked, confusion filling her expression. “No. Of course not.”
She stepped aside, allowing Avery and Mitch to enter the foyer. Inside, the expensive décor matched the exterior of the house. A chandelier hung above them from the high ceiling. Oh, yes. Mama would love this. But as much as she might wish it, this was no social call to one of Mama’s friends.
Avery sat down next to Mitch on the offered couch filled with plush, colorful cushions, while taking in the baby grand in the corner and the expensive artwork hanging on the walls.
Avery pulled out the photo of Tala and handed it to the older woman, who had taken a seat on the other side of the coffee table. “Is this your niece?”
“Tala . . .” Mrs. Sourn grasped the photo. “Yes. That’s her. She told us she was going out with friends.”
“I truly am sorry, but your niece was found murdered yesterday morning.”
“Dead?” Mrs. Sourn stood and turned to face the long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the green, taking the time to compose herself before turning back to them. “I thought maybe she’d gotten into some trouble, but . . . I can’t believe that. Who would murder her?”
“That’s one of the reasons we’re here, ma’am,” Mitch said. “And what we intend to find out.”
Mrs. Sourn sank back into her chair. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand.”
“Where is your husband?”
“He . . . he’s meeting with a number of overseas clients. He told me this morning that I wouldn’t be able to reach him.”
“He went in to work, even with your niece missing?”
“We never imagined anything like this happening.” The woman’s fingers gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. “I told him not to worry. That she’d probably spent the night with a friend. I decided to let the police know just in case, but I was so sure that she’d be home by now.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“We ate dinner together Sunday night. She left right after we finished.”
“She has a car?”
“No, someone picked her up.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Tala was a very private person.”
“Tell me about your niece.”
“Like I said, she was a quiet, private girl. Didn’t have many friends.” Mrs. Sourn cleaned her glasses on the hem of her shirt, then slid them back on. “She never caused us any problems.”
“Did you try to call her?”
“Her cell phone . . . it must have been dead. I never got through.”
“You said she didn’t come home,” Mitch said. “Was that normal?”
“No. She was a good girl. Cheerful. Responsible.”
“Was there a change in her behavior?”
“She’d been moody the past few weeks, but not enough for me to really worry. I should have worried. I should have said something and tried to talk to her.”
“How long had your niece been living with you?”
“Just a few months, since she graduated from high school. She planned to take some time off, then start college in January.”
“I’m going to need a list of her friends with their phone numbers. Anyone who might know where she was Sunday night.”
Mrs. Sourn slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure I will be a lot of help with that.”
“Why not?”
“She’d made a few friends since moving here, but she didn’t bring them here, and I didn’t ask. She was over eighteen. I felt as if she had the right to live as she pleased. I could show you her room.”
Avery nodded, then stood. “That would help.”
Tala’s room was located on the second floor, elegant like the rest of the house, but simple. A few scatterings of personal things filled the room. A stuffed frog on the bed, high school diploma hanging on the wall, and a jewelry box. Neat. Spotless.
Avery ran her fingers across the top of the built-in desk next to the window where a row of romance and mystery novels sat. “You mentioned a cell phone, what about a computer?”
“Tala wasn’t into computers or electronic things. She reads a lot and watches TV. As for her cell phone, I assumed she had it with her.”
Avery made a mental note to get a trace going on the missing phone as soon as they left. “Did she work?”
“No, like I said, she was planning to start college in a few months. My husband and I had agreed to take care of any financial needs she had.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“She was family. We didn’t mind.”
Avery pulled the second photo from her pocket. “This photo was found on her body. Her face is partially hidden, but do you recognize the other girl?”
Mrs. Sourn adjusted her g
lasses. “I’ve never seen this photo. That is Tala, but the other girl . . . no. I don’t recognize her.”
“So you’ve never seen her before?”
“No.” Mrs. Sourn handed the photo back to Avery. “Like I said, Tala was a private person. She tended to avoid the camera.”
“What about her parents?” Mitch asked.
“Her parents were killed in a car accident about six months ago, which is why Tala decided to come live with us.”
“Where was her family originally from?” Avery asked.
“Vietnam.”
“Does she have other family either here or in Vietnam?”
“Distant family, but Tala lived in the US her whole life. She didn’t even have a passport.”
Avery and Mitch followed the older woman out of the room and back down the stairs to the living room. “Any brothers or sisters?”
“No. She was pretty much alone in the world. My husband and I felt sorry for her and believed the least we could do was let her live here.”
They stopped in the middle of the living room, and Avery caught the older woman’s gaze. “Mrs. Sourn, I do need to ask you, where were you Monday morning between two and four?”
Mrs. Sourn sat back down in her chair. The reality of the situation had begun to sink in. “I was here with my husband. He can verify that.”
“I have one last question for now, Mrs. Sourn. Your niece had a tattoo on her shoulder. What can you tell us about it?”
“The tattoo . . .” Mrs. Sourn’s fingers grasped the edges of her chair. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think she had it when she moved here.”
“So you don’t know when or where she got it?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Avery pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to the older woman. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Sourn. We’ll be in touch again soon, but if you think of anything else that might help us find Tala’s killer, please call.”
“Of course.”
“We will need to speak to your husband as well. Do you know when he’ll be available?”
“He told me he’d be home for dinner.”
Mrs. Sourn didn’t move from her chair, her face pale.
“Are you going to be all right, ma’am?” Mitch stepped forward. “Can I call someone for you?”
“No. I . . . I’ll be fine.”
Avery nodded at Mitch. “Then we’ll see ourselves out.”
Outside, golf carts buzzed along the green in the distance, a world away from the stench of death and loss.
A few moments later, Avery gripped the steering wheel as she drove out of the neighborhood with Mitch beside her.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“She seemed genuinely upset.”
“And afraid. Nervous,” Mitch added.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Avery wasn’t sure she should defend Mrs. Sourn, but she had been on the receiving end of a call like they’d made today. “The woman just found out that her niece was murdered. I remember after Ethan died, I couldn’t stop thinking that if death could take him, then why not my parents, or my sister . . . or Tess. The thought tormented me for weeks.”
“You could be right, but I still think we need to dig deeper.”
Avery nodded. “I agree. I want you to go with Tory and talk to the husband. He might be in meetings all day, but we need to know if their stories match, and if you can get any new information out of him.”
“So you think Mrs. Sourn knows more than she’s saying?”
“If she is involved, she’s quite an actress.”
“And there’s still the matter of the tattoo. That isn’t exactly insignificant. The exact same tattoo and crime scene setup as the other girl.” Mitch turned up the air conditioner in an attempt to get rid of the humidity that hung in the car. “I know you don’t believe in coincidences any more than I do.”
Mitch was right, but they needed more pieces before they could put the puzzle together. Which meant that for now, finding out the identity of their Jane Doe had left them with far more questions than answers.
Avery’s phone rang, and she pressed the receiver on her steering wheel. It was Tory.
“We found our homeless man.”
“Where is he?”
“Here at the station. Officers picked him up twenty minutes ago.”
“His name?” Avery asked.
“You’ve probably already guessed. It’s James Philips.”
10
Avery slipped into the interrogation room behind Carlos, dropped a file onto the table, then set a cup of coffee in front of their Mr. Nomad. At least the man finally had a name. “Mr. Philips. How are you doing this morning?”
He clasped his hands together in front of him, ignoring the coffee, while rocking his body back and forth. “You can call me Bear.”
“All right, Bear. I’m Detective Avery North and this is Detective Carlos Dias.” She sat down across from him in one of the metal chairs. “Would you like to take off your coat? It’s warm in here.”
They might have the air conditioners running, but interrogation rooms always tended to be on the warm side, and the man’s long coat couldn’t be comfortable.
He fiddled with one of the black buttons. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Avery said. Carlos took a chair on the far end of the table. Captain Peterson stood behind the two-way mirror. “Do you know why you are here?”
Bear’s gaze stayed fixed on the table in front of him. “I mind my own business, don’t bother anyone, but now you bring me here because I don’t have a home.”
“You’re not here today because of your living situation.” Avery worked to soften her voice. She was used to playing the role of good cop, but that didn’t mean she was convinced the man was innocent. A witness to a crime was one thing. Finding one’s fingerprints on a victim’s murdered body quickly moved a person from witness to suspect.
She leaned back in her chair, watching Bear’s body language. Fingers tapping against the table, the continued rocking, refusal to make eye contact . . . He might not have killed Tala, but he was definitely hiding something. If she could help the man relax, they might get more out of him.
“How long have you been living on the streets, Bear?”
“I don’t know. Six, seven months . . . maybe longer.” He spoke quietly, still avoiding any eye contact.
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. Do you have any family or friends?”
He gripped the edge of the table with his fingertips. “My parents have both passed away, so there was only Laurie—my wife—but she is dead too.”
“I’m sorry, Bear. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love very much.”
“I loved her. I don’t know why she had to die.”
“Sometimes we lose people we love. Sometimes it’s hard to go on with life. Tell me, Bear, do you ever stay at a shelter?”
“Yes.”
“Which shelter?”
“The one at St. Martin’s. They have good food.”
“They do have good food,” she agreed. “What is your favorite meal there?”
“The turkey. Thursday is turkey day, like Thanksgiving.” He was starting to calm down. The rocking had stopped. He loosened his grip on the edge of the table. They needed to keep him talking. They’d made his rights clear, but if he asked for a lawyer, it was over.
“I like turkey too, Bear. I need to ask you some questions about a young woman who was killed.”
“Why?” Bear shook his head. “Why was she hurt?”
“We don’t know, that’s why we need to ask you these questions,” Carlos said. “It’s very important that you tell us the truth. We found her in the neighborhood you walk through every night.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Bear, Detective Dias just told you that it was very important that you tell the truth. We know that you saw her.”
Bear started rocking again and didn’t respond.
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br /> “What can you tell me about these letters?” Carlos opened a folder and pushed two letters across the table. They’d been folded into thirds and placed in white envelopes. Tory was already working on the translation of the letters that had been handwritten in flowery Vietnamese. “Are these yours?”
Bear ran his fingers across the paper, his features strained as if he were trying to remember something. “No.”
“We found them in one of your bags.” Carlos pressed harder. “We need to know how they got inside your things.”
“I told you. They aren’t my letters.”
“We understand they aren’t yours, Bear. That is why it’s very important that you tell us why they were in your bag.” Avery leaned forward, making sure she kept her voice low. “There’s a girl who’s dead, and it’s our job to find out who killed her.”
Bear stared straight ahead.
Avery leaned in closer. “Bear, I need you to answer my question. Telling us will help us find the person who hurt this young girl. You want us to find who hurt her, don’t you? Just like with your wife. Tell us why the letters were in your bag.”
“I found them.”
“Good. Can you tell me where you found them?”
He pushed them toward Carlos. “I don’t remember.”
Carlos dropped the letters back into the folder. “We have reason to believe that these letters belong to the girl who was murdered. Can you tell us anything about her? We know you saw her Sunday night.”
“No.” He shook his head, his fingers tapping again against the metal table. “I told you, I mind my own business and don’t bother nobody.”
Carlos swung out of his chair and stood up, still holding the file. “This young woman I told you about, we found her murdered. Do you understand what that looks like? Someone murdered her, and we know you saw her that night.”
“I didn’t murder her.”
“But you saw her.” Carlos slammed the file back onto the table. “You touched her.”
Bear’s hands shook. His fingers knocked against his coffee cup and it tipped. Carlos caught it before the liquid sloshed over the edge.