Kado fought the stupid grin trying to plaster itself across his face. “I think Cass is out front.”
“Is she back on duty?”
“No.”
“Where’s Hoffner?”
“At a sheriff’s retreat.”
“Has anybody called him about Whitehead or the Franklins?”
“I’ve left a message at his hotel. They said the group went out for some bonding ritual and are on their way back now, but it’ll still be a few hours before he calls.”
“Why didn’t he deal with Cass before he left?”
Kado shrugged.
“The man is amazing. He’s short on detectives and won’t sign the papers to put Cass back on duty.” Grey snagged his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and began to rub, a sure sign that his substantial brain was working overtime. Suddenly, he smiled up at Kado. “Go get her. The ME’s office has a new temp.”
CHAPTER 11
JOSEPH FRANKLIN SAT AT the kitchen table while Porky River’s girlfriend Stella fussed over him. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and Joseph envied Porky’s luck in catching her. The rich smell of chocolate rose from the oven and he was surprised to hear his stomach rumble. Stella put a bowl of chicken and dumplings and a glass of milk in front of him. He stared at them mutely.
“You’ve had a dreadful shock, Moses.” It took him a moment to respond to the name. When he raised his head to look at her, Stella cupped his chin. “Your body needs food to recover itself, physically and emotionally. I made those chicken and dumplings fresh today.” A loud buzzing sounded and Joseph flinched. She put a soft hand on his shoulder. “That’s the laundry. Eat up.”
The kitchen door swished closed behind her. Joseph picked up a folded napkin, pressed it to his face, and fought to control the unfamiliar emotions slamming against his brain. Stella was right. Seeing his mother and brother slaughtered like deer had shocked him, unleashing a blinding torrent of rage and frustration he had never known. A desire to do malicious, grievous bodily harm to the person who had ripped his family from him. A burning need to find the man who had coldly pulled the trigger, to find him and deliver agonizing death. And those feelings scared him. Joseph Franklin was always in control of his actions and reactions. Always. An innate ability to master his thoughts and focus on the task at hand had held Joseph in good stead and provided the foundation behind his success with computers. Moses, on the other hand, is – had been, he corrected himself –– pure emotion. Joseph’s head throbbed. He closed his eyes and took three slow, deep breaths and forced the sight and smell of the bloodied kitchen from his mind.
He picked up a spoon and ate a bite of chicken and dumplings, his brow furrowed. Moses. Stella had called him Moses. It wasn’t a surprise that she was confused. People had a hard time telling the twins apart on a normal day. But Stella hadn’t even asked his name. Neither had Porky. No one had, come to think of it. Joseph glanced down at his clothes and suddenly understood. He was wearing Moses’ black Forney County Police t-shirt and shorts. He wondered how long it would take Stella and Porky to figure out that he was Joseph, not Moses.
Or if they would.
Joseph put the spoon down. Could anyone figure it out?
His mind reeled at the thought, and he fought to analyze the possibilities. There was no question that physically, the brothers could imitate one another. They’d done it for years with teachers, girlfriends, and even friends. Now that both kept their heads shaved, their physical resemblance was as strong as when they were infants. Their voices were very close in pitch and speech pattern. Moses and Joseph shared the same sleek manner of movement on and off the basketball court. They even used their joint nickname of Mojo when referring to themselves or each other, to keep people confused. Joseph’s left-handedness made him a true mirror image of Moses, who was a righty.
But the most significant difference between them, the one area where Joseph would struggle if he wanted to become Moses, was their mental make-up.
Moses was light and movement. He had the gift of extreme emotion that allowed him to empathize and connect with people and sharpened his senses when he was out on patrol. Joseph was dark and distant. Strong feelings had always crystallized in his brain, becoming objects for analysis and brooding. Joseph had no gift for passion or people. Personality-wise, Moses and Joseph were opposites in every way. Could Joseph fake all those emotions? Convincingly enough that Moses’ fellow officers wouldn’t question which brother wore the uniform? Could he step into Moses’ life and find the person who slaughtered his family? Find them, and kill them in turn?
Joseph swallowed hard. The realization that he was considering adopting his brother’s life, effectively murdering himself and becoming Moses, was startling. It wasn’t too late to back out now, but by tomorrow, no one would believe that he was in shock. Joseph tried again to think about the differences between them, to decide whether he could really pull it off. But the image of Moses’ body covering their mother’s, of their blood blown across the stove, the counter, the floor, snapped through his brain over and over. He lost precious moments to bewilderment at this inability to control his thoughts, struggling to shove the images down to that remote part of his brain where unprocessed emotions were imprisoned.
Joseph realized that he was holding his breath, and slowly released it. He looked down at the table, surprised to see that the food was gone. The kitchen door whooshed open and Stella stepped into the room, followed by Porky, who wore fresh orange scrubs and carried a floral overnight bag. Stella glanced at the empty bowl and glass and refilled both, then filled another bowl and glass for Porky, who put the bag by the outside door.
“Now Moses,” she said, sitting at the table between the men. “You’re going to stay here for at least a few days.” He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “You can’t go back to that house tonight, and probably not until the police finish whatever they have to do. We have a guest bedroom that has its own bathroom. It’s comfortable and private.”
“I can’t impose, Stella.”
“No, you can’t. Because we want you here. Porky and me. I have to go see about my aunt. She’s having surgery tomorrow and I told her I’d be there this evening. I’ll be back in time for the funerals.” A chime dinged and Stella took a cake from the oven, tested it with a toothpick, and poured dark chocolate icing from a saucepan over the hot cake. The pan sizzled as the liquid hit its sides and a rich aroma rose into the air. Joseph’s eyes watered when he realized this was the same recipe for chocolate cake his mother always used.
He dug his fingers into his eyes to clear his blurry vision and then glanced at the clock on the stove. “It’s ten-thirty. How far do you have to go?”
“She’s on the south side of Watuga County. No more than an hour and a half.” Stella placed the saucepan in the sink and filled it with warm water and detergent, then stuck a fork in the cake and scooped a bite out. Her eyes rolled as she chewed, and then she resolutely dropped the fork in the sink. “I’ve left food in the fridge and you’re welcome to use the washer and dryer if you need them.”
Porky drained the last of the milk from his glass and carried his dishes to the sink. “I have to get to work.”
“Will you be the one to autopsy,” he hesitated, and then the decision was made, “Joseph and Momma?”
“Maybe. But it’s been busy tonight. When did you finish your last shift?”
Joseph thought back to when he’d last seen Moses. His brother had worked the night shift, slept during the day, and then taken their mother for her afternoon doctor’s appointment and on to her quilting club meeting. Joseph ate breakfast with them, then started out for several interviews in Shreveport. “This morning. What happened?”
“Somebody was murdered at Calvin Whitehead’s store. We’re pretty sure it was Calvin.”
“Shot?”
“No,” Porky answered. “He was hanged and set on fire.”
Joseph blinked hard and cleared his throat. “Dear God. T
hat’s downright evil.”
“And there may be others that have come in. I don’t know if I’ll work on Martha and Joseph, but their autopsies should be quick.” Porky stopped, watching the other man. “Are you okay?”
Joseph sucked in a deep breath and his eyes cleared. “I’ve been trying to figure out who would want to kill Joseph, but I can’t think of anybody who had it in for him. It can’t be my momma they were after. She’s never done nothing to nobody. So it’s got to be me. I know I’ve pissed off some folks over the years, but I can’t think of anybody who would want me dead.” He looked up suddenly. “You think they’ll let me come back to work tomorrow?”
“Maybe, Mojo. The police department is so short on detectives they’ll probably need help, which means the patrol pool will be running short and they’ll need every officer available,” Porky said. “But there may be a policy about having to take time off when a member of your family is killed. Or you might have to see a psychologist or something. We’ll find out tomorrow.” He took a key ring from a hook and gave it to Joseph. “For the doors. I’ll take you to your house tomorrow morning and you can get your car and whatever else you need. I won’t have my cell phone on in the autopsy room, but leave a message if you need anything and I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
Joseph rose and hugged Stella, then shook Porky’s hand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’ll be thanks enough if you eat that chocolate cake before I get back, Moses,” Stella said with a smile. “I love it, but it’s hell on my hips.”
CHAPTER 12
CASS STEPPED OUT OF the shower at the medical examiner’s office, skin glowing from a good scrubbing. She had followed Grey’s orders as carefully as possible while helping him process the Franklin’s bodies at the scene, but still managed to end up bloodied. At the morgue, she’d quickly changed into a spare pair of scrubs and assisted Grey with the autopsies, unsurprised to see his pent up emotions released with precision into the intricacies of taking x-rays, opening the bodies, removing and dissecting organs, and recording his observations. He was patient as they worked, describing the instrument he needed from his cart and explaining where to place her hand or direct a scalpel when her unfamiliarity with the interior of the human body slowed her down or caused her to fumble.
From the moment they entered the ME’s office that evening, they were assaulted by the odor of charred human flesh that hung in the air. When the call about the shooting at the Franklin house had gone out, Grey and Porky had brought the torched body to the morgue and slid it into a mortuary refrigerator. Cass and Grey managed to avoid wincing at the smell as they worked on the Franklins, but Cass knew it would be some time before she could eat barbeque.
She had listened while they worked, hoping to hear the exam room door open and see Porky walk through. From the way his eyes flicked toward the door at every creak and groan of the old building, she knew Grey was waiting, too. They needed to know which Franklin brother they were working on, Moses or Joseph. Not that it mattered in the end, but simply to help answer the questions no one had yet dared voice: had someone targeted Moses Franklin because he was a cop? And even if it were Joseph who was dead, would they have the answer they needed? The men were so similar in appearance, was it possible the killer had shot the wrong man?
They had nearly finished the Franklin autopsies when Grey found a stopping place and asked if she would help him with the corpse from The Whitehead Store. Cass smeared more Vick’s under her nose while Grey pulled the shelf from its unit, unzipped the body bag, and peeled back the plastic. Cass held her breath and leaned in. The face was a study in agony. “I can’t tell; the burns are too bad. But Calvin always wore a ring on his right hand. Kind of like a college ring with a red stone. Did you find it?”
Grey eased more of the plastic apart and Cass peered closely at the blackened chest. She could just make out the carved swastika. She and Grey exchanged a glance, and then he exposed the right hand. Although sooty, the gold was very yellow, probably eighteen karat, and worn almost perfectly smooth over the years. A richly red stone topped the dome. Cass nodded. “That’s it. This must be Calvin.”
“Help me look for a wallet.”
Gingerly, they eased the body onto its left side and Cass teased a lump of moldering material away from the corpse. “You think this is it?”
Grey examined what she held. “Kado can dig through it and see if anything survived.”
The thunk of the shelf sliding home in the refrigerated unit stuck with Cass as she stepped into her panties and pulled her jogging bra over her head, gently shaking her breasts into its cups before pulling on a fresh set of clothes. She chose not to wipe steam from the mirror over the sink. She didn’t think she could bear the sight of the scar tonight; too much anger was humming through her veins at the thought of such senseless killings.
During the weeks she’d been away from the police department, she thought she’d gained some distance from the crimes she was charged with investigating. But given the surge of helplessness that rolled through her body, Cass realized the job could still crawl under her skin and leave her aggravated at the uselessness of procedure, the sluggishness of process. She heard voices and hurried into socks and boots. Opening the door, she ran her fingers through her hair, damp and the deep color of drying blood, and stood facing Kado and Grey.
Kado’s eyes skimmed her body and she was surprised to feel a fluttering in her stomach, similar to the response he’d provoked the first time they’d met. She had believed that simply deciding Kado wasn’t suitable relationship material would’ve helped control her reaction to him. Apparently not. Their contact at the Franklin house had been minimal, with Kado hurrying her inside to help Grey, then largely ignoring her while he examined the fractured window and collected the little evidence available. He seemed unable to resist the sight of her now, and as Cass looked more closely at him, she could see the stress the last few weeks had placed on him. His smoky gray eyes were weary and dark hair curled over the collar of his shirt. She thought his hair looked good when it was longer, and she bit her lip to stifle the urge to smile at him.
Grey covered his mouth and yawned until his jaw popped. “Kado needs you to go with him to Deadwood Hollow.”
“Are we done here?”
“Porky’s coming in. He can finish with the Franklins. Bernie’s on his way to help me with Calvin Whitehead.”
“He’s still in town?”
“Bernie Winterbottom is infatuated with Elaine. He met her at the courthouse a few weeks ago – before you were suspended, I think – and fell in love. I don’t know what she sees in him,” Grey groused, “but there it is. He was scheduled to fly home to England this week, but the Caddo Indian Mounds dig got the go-ahead and he’s staying.”
“Where’s Minnie?” Cass asked. Minnie Peck was Grey’s long-suffering, chain-smoking administrative assistant.
“Visiting her sister in Florida. I’m worried she’s thinking about retiring.”
“She’s probably old enough.”
Grey raised an eyebrow. “I was raised better than to ask a woman her age. But I’d guess Minnie’s at least eligible to draw Social Security.” He frowned at Cass. “Those aren’t the same clothes you had on, are they?”
“You are observant. I keep a spare set in the truck, just in case.”
“Some habits die hard, huh?” Grey asked.
White lights pulsed outside the ME’s office, and the exterior door opened and shut quickly, muffling the sound of shouted questions. Porky Rivers stepped into the administrative area, blinking.
“Press?” Grey asked.
Porky nodded. “A few. They know what happened at The Whitehead Store and the Franklin house. It’s gonna be ugly.”
Grey examined the thin man. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just hard.”
Cass asked the question: “Who is it?”
“Joseph is dead,” Porky answered slowly. “Moses is staying with me for a
while.”
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “How is he?”
“For now, all right. I think his training is taking over and he’s trying to stay analytical, to figure out who would’ve targeted him.”
“He thinks this is about him?” Kado asked.
“He thinks it’s possible.” Porky leaned a thin shoulder into a filing cabinet, his smooth face lined with worry. “Y’all will have to talk to him, he knows that. But he said he couldn’t think of anybody who would want to kill his momma or Joseph.”
Grey snagged his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed gently. “Joseph recently moved back to Arcadia, didn’t he? He was in prison up north.”
“For some white-collar crime.” Porky’s teeth tugged gently at a silver stud in his lower lip. “You think somebody came after him?”
“It seems odd that he comes home and gets killed a few weeks later.”
Porky’s eyes filled with tears. “Why his momma, man? She was an old woman.”
“Maybe,” Cass said, “because they looked alike.”
“They didn’t look nothin’ alike,” Porky protested. “Joseph was huge; his momma was a tiny thing.”
“She might’ve been small compared to Moses and Joseph, but she was a tall woman.”
“And there wasn’t much light in the kitchen when the first officers got to the house,” Kado said. “With her bald head, the three of them look very similar to one another.”
Grey nodded. “From the way the bodies lay, she was shot first. Joseph must’ve been in the shower or just gotten out, grabbed a towel, and ran to the kitchen. He fell on top of her. If she was in the kitchen alone, it could be a case of mistaken identity. Someone shoots her, then realizes his mistake when Joseph appears.”
“Did you find the slugs?” Cass asked Kado.
He nodded. “They were buried in the tile behind the stove. One more mangled than the other. Large caliber, .308, maybe”
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