Lily watched for a few seconds as the two stood close underneath an umbrella. At one point the female reporter squeezed the bottom of her husband’s bearded chin and threw her head back in laughter.
A chill bolted through Lily’s body. How could he? This wasn’t the first time that tart had openly flirted with him. Nor was it the first time he’d let her do it. She considered the fact that her husband had always been known as a flirt, but the question she didn’t ask before she eloped with him was “did she trust him?”
Even as her thoughts surfaced about the honeymoon, the answer to that question was uncertain.
“I still say that getting married to that guy was a mistake,” Morgan said, walking toward Lily.
Sergeant Kevin Owen adjusted his cap and marched in their direction. “No one talks to the press,” he ordered, looking at Lily. “I mean, no one.”
“Yes, Sir,” Lily replied.
“The last thing we need is for this to be twisted so they can have a juicy story. Detective, I have complete faith in your ability to lead this case.”
Lily’s hands tingled. Although she believed that she could do it, tiny pieces of uncertainty filled the pit of her stomach. “Thank you, Sir.”
Owen pivoted on his heel and walked away.
“Great. He’s going to be cranky during the entire investigation,” Morgan mumbled.
“What makes you say that?”
“Anytime there’s a case of this magnitude, he goes into ‘marine mode.’ It’s like he’s having a flash from the war or something.”
“As usual, you’re exaggerating.”
The uncomfortable feeling in Lily’s stomach slowly dissipated, though the reality of this case lingered. This is chaos. She closed her brown eyes and adjusted the black butterfly clip – her favorite – on her head, making sure her bun was still intact. She opened her eyes and sighed.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice asked, strolling into her view.
Lowering her head, she tried not to fall under the magnetic blue-eyed spell of her ex-boyfriend and colleague, Evan York. While they were together she had found it hard to resist his hypnotic voice and brawny physique. With an effort, she ignored him and directed her attention back on her crime scene. “I’ll be fine.”
“Your new husband, is he going to get all his facts straight now that he’s married to a cop?” Evan asked, staring in Julius’s direction.
Lily’s mouth opened and then closed. Three years they’d been together before it all fell apart and she knew Evan well enough to know that discussing anything relating to each other’s personal business was better left unsaid. “See you back at the station.”
*
10:53 a.m.
When Lily walked into the station with a green file folder in one arm and a two-way radio in hand, a small wave of silence swept the office.
Lily felt like she had walked in on a secret discussion. If she hedged a bet, she was sure that her name had dribbled from the lips of her fellow officers.
Ignoring them, she continued toward the cubicle she shared with Morgan and tossed the green file folder on her desk. A deep seated compulsion to confront them boiled inside her. As much as she wanted to believe the conversation was about the latest case to hit Fort, her heart feared otherwise.
Had they heard about the latest rumor regarding her mother’s accidental photo bomb on social media? Of course they had. The marital woes of her parents had become a hot topic amongst other officers since the death of her sister. Did they think her raw emotions would jeopardize her first chance as lead on a case that was sure to make headlines on just about every paper outside of Jefferson County? Maybe they expected her to handle it in the same manner her father did, by ignoring the gossip. Well, she planned on it. Because that was what Collin had instilled in her. Hold your head high and focus on the job you came to do.
Directly behind her, she heard Evan finishing up a call. She went to his cubicle, entering as he hung up the phone.
He smiled coyly, holding out a sheet of paper. “We’ve got a match on that bloody print.”
“That was quick.”
“It belongs to thirty-year-old Xavier Martinez. He’s one of ours.”
“Martinez? Wait a minute.” Lily ran and grabbed the green file folder from her desk. She opened it, flipping to the entry log. “I thought so. Martinez was one of the responding officers.”
“How long was he there?”
“Thirty minutes.” Lily closed the file. “I want him brought in. Can you find Martinez while I head over to the M.E.’s office?”
“You got it.”
When she returned to her desk, Sarge was waiting for her.
Sarge poked his hands into his pockets. “I meant what I said about having faith in you to head this damn case, but we both know it’s a bad idea. Working a case that might be linked to Celine’s death, coupled with rumors regarding your family, will take a toll on you.”
There it was, straight from Sarge’s mouth. The rumors. The one thing that bounced around a police station like dead ball serves were rumors. “Does this mean every decision I make will be questioned?”
“It means you’ll be closely monitored.”
“I don’t want to be labeled as fragile, nor do I want someone watching over my shoulder.”
“Doesn’t matter what you want. Your first case as lead investigator will come under scrutiny. Don’t think of it as watching over your shoulder. Consider it ‘observing.’” Owen backed out of the cubicle and walked down the hall.
*
11:40 a.m.
Collin’s key clicked in the deadbolt; he pushed open the door and stepped inside his home. But it didn’t feel like his home anymore. It was the third time this year he’d gotten information from Kevin about his wife’s “meetings” with the departmental shrink and former high school sweetheart—followed up by the latest surprise a few days ago.
Unfortunately, Collin’s fears had been stirred up longer than he cared to admit. So much information had been confirmed that he’s was no longer going to coddle his wife. He’d remained quiet in order to protect what was left of his family: Lily.
Deena had embarrassed him enough that it was starting to carry over onto his daughter. And this last bit of news was the final straw.
His wife walked out of the kitchen and into the living room holding a coffee cup that he was sure contained a beverage with one of those fancy names that was hard to spell. He was so angry that he could no longer see her as the beautiful woman who got up at the crack of dawn to put on her face, do her hair, and make sure she was ready to sit with the family for breakfast promptly at seven. No; he only saw a selfish woman who, even with her matching clothes and shoes, couldn’t cover the weighted guilt that was starting to show on her face. “You didn’t come home last night. Is everything okay?”
“You know it’s not. This time we’re going to have it out.”
“I think we can have a civil discussion and not let things get out of control.” Her face broke into one of her polite smiles.
“You had to go with him to McGinley’s, the place where you knew you’d likely be seen by one or many of the people I work with. You begged me to stay the last time I was going to leave, but what good has that done? You’re still seeing your ex behind my back.”
Deena set her cup down on the table and walked toward him.
He took a step back. “Stay away from me.”
“You know everything there is to know. Why would I go to the place where you and the others hang out if I was hiding something? That’s not being secretive, Dear. That’s being honest.”
“I think I’ve had enough of your honesty to last me until I die. I can’t be the only one willing to make this work. Thirty-four years is all I can take. I’m going to handle some things I should’ve taken care of a long time ago and consider retirement. I’ll stay elsewhere and give you your space.
“While I’m doing that, I’m going to make sure I can be there for our daught
er while she leads a new case.
“In the meantime, I want you to start looking for a new place to stay.”
“That’s insane. I’ve spent my time and money decorating this house to make it comfortable for us to live in. I’m not leaving my home.”
“Don’t you remember? The house is in a family trust created by my father. So it will remain in the family and it goes to Lily.”
“But Lily’s not your child.”
“She’s mine. I raised her,” Collin shouted. “You did one thing right when you put me down as the father on her birth certificate and you’d be stupid to challenge that. If you do, I’ll show everything my private investigator has learned about your affair to my lawyer and I’ll take you to court.” That was a promise he planned to keep. He spun on his heels and stalked off toward his study.
For the first time in years, his shoulders felt lighter. No more secrets. No more snickering behind his back. No more Deena.
Chapter 3
October 23, 1:30 p.m.
The red bricks of the Jefferson County Medical Examiner’s Office glimmered with remnants of the latest rainstorm as heavy winds whistled between the buildings and tires from vehicles splashed puddles while a three-legged cat darted across the street to safety.
As Morgan approached the top of the stairs, Lily handed her a purple jar of fragrant cream. “Spread it across your upper lip. It will help mask the smell. I’d like it if you actually went inside the examination room today.”
“Now’s not the time to tease me about my weak stomach,” Morgan said, following Lily into the building.
Just as they arrived inside the building, Lily heard the ding for the silver elevator doors and her pace quickened. “Hey, can you hold it for us?”
She stepped in next to the one man who she believed had been sent by Satan himself to bully her about her profession: Marty Simmons, the state grief counselor. Simmons’ coltish build suited his narrow mind. His thinning hair was combed to one side, while his Adam’s apple protruded almost as far as his speckled bow tie.
Marty pushed the button for the third floor. “Finally got hitched? Every woman’s dream.”
Lily glared in his direction. “Shut up, Marty. It’s too early for your chauvinist remarks.”
“Too early? For someone of your age, I’d say it was almost too late. A woman’s biological clock is a real thing. You should be at home having little ones and being a good housewife.”
Morgan shook her head. “This elevator ride is taking too damn long.”
Not a moment too soon, the elevator dinged and Marty exited through the doors, leaving his au naturel body scent behind.
When the doors closed and opened again, Lily and Morgan made their way to the empty reception desk.
A few seconds later, Hauser came around the corner. “Ah, just the ladies I’ve been looking for.”
“Tell me you have something,” Lily pleaded.
“You betcha. Walk with me.”
They followed him down a brightly lit corridor, passing autopsy technicians who wheeled stainless steel gurneys with corpses sealed in body bags.
After a quick left, they came to a set of electronic double doors marked “Private.” Hauser slid his key card through the vertical slot and they entered a spacious forensic lab.
Along the front wall, unused evidence kits sat neatly on a table. To the right of the table, temperature-controlled storage kept evidence from recent cases.
Hunched over a microscope, a male pathologist studied some samples while filling out a sheet of paper. His rockabilly hairstyle had been labeled as a distraction during all types of conversation, especially if he was out in the field during a rainstorm.
“Pete, they’re here,” Hauser announced.
Rockabilly Pete looked up and smiled.
“But of course,” Pete said, “Let’s head to the cold room. I have some information about the victims.”
Lily turned to Morgan. “Are you coming or staying?”
“I’ll go.”
Lily watched as Morgan hurried to apply the cream under her nose. Even with the ventilation, there was no way to escape the putrid smell reminiscent of warm, rancid ground beef. Lily wanted to kick herself for the comparison because she wasn’t sure if she would be able to get over that one. Still, that smell was penetrating and unforgettable.
The two detectives trailed in a single file line behind Pete as he led them out the door and down a narrow hallway lined with white ceramic tiles. At the end of the corridor, he reached up and pushed a button at the end of a cord hanging from the ceiling.
When the door opened, a stench more powerful than the previous one attacked her. The dead reeked. It was as if a tangible substance invaded every pore of Lily’s body, bringing with it the paralysis of the grave.
Stainless steel sinks and rows of glass cabinets covered the back wall of the windowless room. Harsh lighting shined down onto the machines. An array of essential forensic tools and disposable face shields lined the shelves.
The smell of antiseptic and raw flesh combed through Lily’s nostrils. She began breathing through her mouth.
Morgan wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t think I will ever get the hang of coming here.”
Pete looped his facemask around his ears and walked over to unzip the translucent bags. “Parents came in and made a positive ID: Tanya O’Neal and Samantha Bernard.”
Tanya’s mouth was parted slightly; her eyes were vacant.
With a pen, Pete pointed to the cuts. “Both sustained incised wounds above, on, and underneath both breasts. Some of the wounds appear to be fresher than others which lead me to believe that the assailant most likely tortured them.”
“Were they sexually assaulted?” Lily pressed.
“Unfortunately, yes. I combed through their hair and removed several strands of dark-brown hair. We’re waiting for the DNA typing to be completed. As for the bruising on their necks...both of their hyoid bones are still intact, so he was probably using strangulation as a form of control.
“They suffered a blow to the head, which produced a circular fracture. No intracranial bleeding was found, so the hit was just enough to knock them unconscious.”
“Posing the bodies and placing a ring on their wedding fingers seems to be his signature,” Lily observed.
“Could be a copycat,” Pete said.
“Or it’s the same perp, but he decided to step it up a notch. After all this time, he hasn’t been caught; why not become confident enough to carry out a sick fantasy,” Lily rationalized.
Pete reached for a pair of green latex gloves and put them on. He took Tanya’s hand and turned her palms up. “Cuts on their hands are defensive wounds. It’s safe to say that the knife used was straight edged. From my observation Tanya had the least amount of defensive wounds.”
Lily pulled out her phone and typed in some notes. “Maybe the killer favored one over the other?”
“It’s a possibility,” Pete confirmed.
“What can you tell us about the cloth used to cover them?” Lily asked.
“You could find it in any fabric store.” Pete zipped up the bag. “Would you mind if I offered an opinion?”
“Sure,” Lily answered.
“I’ve researched crimes involving necrophilia and ritualistic purification. This case fits both. The color white is a sacred and pure color, representing angels and gods. The color pink can be used to show childish innocence. Likewise, it can be associated with sexuality.”
Lily liked the way Pete thought outside the box, allowing him to suggest scenarios that others might not have considered. Lily looked at Morgan. “When did the parents report them missing?”
“Two days ago. The girls had scheduled a campus visit at Whitewater University and planned a sleep over with a few friends at a motel. They went to get coffee and never returned.”
“How do they know each other?”
“Tanya and Samantha were best friends. Inseparable.”
&nb
sp; Lily nodded. “Even in death.”
*
2:17 p.m.
Sitting among the crowd at Melli’s Coffee, taking advantage of the free WiFi, CtryGeek23 searched Scatter: a popular social network loaded with profiles of young women graduating high school and headed off to college. His latest hunt: the small college town of Whitewater.
He drummed his long, smooth, spatulate fingers around his ice water and toggled between the open tabs, viewing the ongoing replies to updated statuses.
It was all too easy for CtryGeek23 as he watched people spill their guts about what they’d been doing and using their location to check in so everyone would know where they were. Their regular updates allowed him to conjugate sexual fantasies after viewing their uploaded pictures, not realizing they were telling the world, especially him and others like him, where they were at that very minute. It was like he was looking into a fish tank filled with gullible guppies. He was the shark and the newest guppy, Serena Fellows, was his prey. Geo Tagging. What a beautiful thing about GPS.
He tapped on Serena’s latest photo of her posing in a two-piece bikini: Love being in the Dells, headed home.
CtryGeek23 saved the image to his phone, leaned back in his seat, and placed his fingertips on his lips. Ah, yes! It had been too long. The leftover scent from his latest victims still lingered. At least he had that much. Memories weren’t like having the real thing that he could touch and hold. Someone like Tanya. She could’ve been his Sarah.
She was so beautiful, so perfect, until her eyes betrayed her, proving that she wouldn’t submit to him. Just like the Sarah he once knew. She’d never marry him and only answered “yes” thinking he was going to set her free. As for Tanya’s friend, she was not as alluring as he had hoped. Her lies reminded him of the Sarah who broke his heart. She’d failed the test. She had to die.
Was it possible to find an honest woman? Maybe. Maybe he’d finally found the one he’d been looking for. Her eyes promised him the truth.
But he had to be careful. In a way, the women were hunters, too. Trolling the chat rooms hoping to find an idiot who would be stupid enough to believe what was written on their profiles. Pretending to be divorced when they were still married or claiming they were poor in order to get money.
Promised Lies (A Detective Blanchette Mystery) Page 2