Just For A Heartbeat (Piper Anderson Legacy Mystery Book 2)

by Danielle Stewart

  “That’s a great observation,” Piper said, pulling the notebook from Bobby and jotting something down. “Are there any prints or impressions in the smeared blood that might be of any use?”

  “Good question,” Maggie said, pleased with Piper’s knowledge, but more likely glad for the compliments she was getting. “There is a partial shoe print in this photograph here. But it’s smudged significantly. The only thing I can say for sure is the tread is very wide, big gaps between each section for slip resistance. That’s most commonly seen in a work boot or galoshes.”

  “Like fishing boots?” Ruby asked, her brows furrowed as she processed the information.

  “Inconclusive,” Maggie said. “It could be. I ran it through the database but there weren’t enough points in the image to match it with anything. It certainly could be though.”

  “How about binding marks?” Bobby asked, leaning in close to the pictures. “The women don’t seem like they were bound by the feet or hands.”

  “I saw no sign of any restraint marks,” Maggie replied.

  “And how about the room itself? Is there anything you can surmise from it?” Bobby asked. “We’ve already identified the statue and the flag as elements we’ll need to explore.”

  “The pictures are pretty tight shots, we don’t see much of the room in most of the photographs. But what I can tell is the ceiling is low. Probably just about six feet. The lack of natural light tells me there are probably only a few windows if any. I’m thinking a basement.”

  “What about a boat?” Ruby asked, her voice cracking with nerves.

  “That would certainly account for the lack of photographs and decorations. You can’t have much laying around that can be tossed about by waves. I wouldn’t rule out the hull of a boat.” Maggie checked her watch and glanced down at her notes. “I didn’t have much time with the photographs, but honestly until there is more to work with that’s the most I can do.”

  “I think you were amazing,” Piper sang out. “We now know there are at least three victims of the same build around the same age but only one was probably known to the killer. The weapon used was a gut hook knife. Based on statistics of serial killers targeting young women the killer was likely aged twenty to forty at the time of the murders and had no medical training or background. The location might be a basement or a boat and the boot print found could be a work boot or fishing boot. The girls weren’t injured on the body parts shown in the pictures before they were killed or bound, that we can see. I think we have quite a lot to go on, all thanks to you.”

  “It’s my job,” Maggie said, brushing off the compliment.

  “This was outside of your job,” Ruby corrected, “but you took time to do it anyway. I think it will make all the difference.”

  “One other thing you should note,” Maggie said, still not openly willing to accept the praise. “These photographs certainly might not be the only ones the killer took, but they are his trophies. There’s something about this part of his process he wants to remember. Many killers will have photographs or mementos from the living victim. Some keep photographs of the dead body—but of a dismembered body, that’s new to me. I’ve emailed you any case files that deal with similar scenarios, but there aren’t many in that time frame, certainly no smoking gun to link these photographs to.”

  “I’m not sure how we can thank you,” Piper smiled warmly.

  “Cookies,” Maggie asserted. “Bobby sent lemon cookies to Tyson a couple months ago when he helped him out. They were delicious. I want some.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” Piper laughed. “Betty makes them at her restaurant in North Carolina. I’ll have them packaged up and sent to your office.”

  “Good luck on all this,” Maggie said, looking to have relaxed a bit. “I might not like you, Bobby, but I still hope you are able to identify these victims and maybe give their families some peace.”

  “Um, thanks,” Bobby stuttered.

  “I’m working on the know-it-all thing.” Piper winked. “Old dogs, they don’t like new tricks.”

  “I completely understand.” Maggie sighed. “I work with a pack of old dogs all day long.”

  “Bad connection,” Bobby said, clicking the end call button on the computer and instantly shrinking the video chat down to nothing.

  “That was mean,” Piper protested. “She’s a very smart woman. I like her.”

  “Somehow I knew you would,” Bobby griped. “Next week you two can start a club or something but for now we’ve got work to do.”

  “How do you process all that information?” Ruby asked, her hand shaking as she reached for her cup of tea. “Where do you begin?”

  Bobby started buttering a piece of bread and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “We all have unique skills and perspectives here. We need to work smart since we don’t have much time before Piper and I go back to North Carolina. It’ll be important to play to our strengths.”

  “Which are?” Patrick asked, curious how Bobby saw him as a part of this team.

  “Obviously I’ve got the most access to case files and information in the federal crime database. I’ll look for patterns and crimes consistent with what we know. Also I’ll put together a list of missing girls matching the description in that time frame in or around this area. Piper is good with people,” he groaned, “believe it or not.”

  “Nice,” she quipped, gesturing for them all to start eating.

  “She will try to deepen the profile on the killer and victims as more information comes in. She’ll also get a feel for the culture. If we believe this man was a fisherman she’ll try to understand the means and mindset better. The angle Ruby mentioned about the novice photographer developing this film himself will also be good for you to understand, Piper. Where would he buy his supplies? What would he need? Patrick, you dig into the press once I get you a list of missing person cases. Tell me how much media coverage was given to the disappearances and what we can learn from it.”

  “And me?” Ruby asked quietly. “I know you must think I’m insane, considering I don’t go out, but there is plenty I can contribute. These photographs, they tell a story, and I want to help with that. I am still capable. I speak four languages, I’ve got a lot of knowledge about photography, and I am a wiz with computers. I am an asset.”

  “Of course you are,” Bobby asserted. “You need to develop all the film remaining in the box you pulled these from.”

  “Why?” Ruby asked, thinking of the daunting and meaningless task. “There must be fifty other rolls of film and none of them is the same style or set up as these two.”

  “You find all the pieces first, then you start trying to figure out if and how they apply. You don’t just cherry pick what you think belongs. We need to rule those out.”

  “You need to keep me busy is what you mean,” Ruby accused. “I can do more than just busy work.”

  “Ruby,” Piper said gently, seeming to understand her frustration. “Bobby is an all hands on deck kind of guy. He wouldn’t play you like that. If he says it’s worth doing then it is.”

  “I’ll help.” Patrick jumped into the silence. “I can’t do too much until you send me the names of the missing girls. So consider me your assistant, Ruby. I’ll do all the grunt work. I’ve always wanted to learn more about photography and development.”

  “Sure,” Bobby said with a knowing smirk. “Then we’ll leave you to it. Piper and I are still on vacation so after dinner we’re heading back to our cabin. We’ll be back first thing in the morning. If you all sleep on it and decide this is more than you want to take on, no hard feelings. It’s understandable.”

  “Thank you both for your help,” Ruby said earnestly. “I actually feel like this is possible now. Maybe we can catch him.”

  Patrick watched the expressions change in unison on Piper and Bobby’s faces. He waited for one of them to speak up. Let them be the bad guy.

  Piper kindly burst the bubble. “The odds that we’re going to actually find the
person responsible for these murders are stacked pretty high against us. The best case scenario in my opinion is that we can identify any of the victims and give their family some closure. Even that is unlikely.”

  “Then why are we doing this?” Ruby asked, a thread of anger in her voice.

  “You never know,” Piper said, sounding chipper. “We’ve been surprised in the past by what a little ragtag team of determined people can do. Bobby and I are always cautioning people because we hope it’ll soften the blow in case things go wrong. It’s good to manage your expectations.”

  “Mark the calendar; Piper said I was right.” Bobby growled playfully and lifted Piper as they pushed through the door. Her tickle-induced laughter echoed out into the night, and they disappeared into the darkness.

  “They’re a trip,” Patrick noted as he brought the dishes to the sink.

  “I like them.” Ruby moved toward the box of undeveloped film and began sifting through it. “They have a great relationship. I’m jealous.”

  “I thought you were an island,” Patrick teased. “That was the line of crap you gave me last time I asked you out.”

  “Are you going to help me or what?” she asked, beginning to line the rolls of film up on the table. “I figure we can organize them according to how old they are. We can start with the ones that are closest in age to those.”

  “That’s a great way to do it. How long will each one take?”

  “A few hours.” She sighed. “I know we won’t find anything else like that, nothing even remotely related. It feels like a waste of time.”

  “Then let’s waste it the right way,” Patrick said as he leaned across her and grabbed a bottle of wine. “I’ll get some glasses. Nothing makes the work go faster than a wine buzz.”

  “Is that how you write all those stories about butterflies and pizza crusts? Are you smashed the whole time?”

  “Basically.” Patrick laughed at the truth in his admission hiding beneath his chuckle. “So, expert, where do we start?”

  Ruby glanced at the pile of the film and then up at him. “With wine, lots of wine.”

  Chapter 5

  Sleep had been so hard to achieve in the last few weeks that Ruby could hardly believe the sun was waking her up. Normally she was waiting around for it to peek up over the horizon. But now as she arched her back and rubbed her eyes the bright ribbons of light cut through the blinds.

  A rustling noise downstairs had her heart freezing and her hand reaching for the baseball bat she kept by her bed. Before her fingers could reach the cold metal she remembered she wasn’t alone. Patrick had stayed to help develop film late into the night and, considering he was just going to come back first thing in the morning and they’d demolished two bottles of wine, it made more sense for him to crash on the couch.

  Ruby lay back against her cool pillow and thought of how hard they’d laughed last night. The jokes weren’t getting any funnier, she was sure of that. It was the wine and the late hour paired with the tedious work of developing the rolls from the box. Just as she’d suspected, none of the ones they’d developed brought any more clues. They’d found some pictures from a butterfly obsessed tourist who’d filled three rolls with marginally good shots. The next was from an underwater camera used to take about thirty shots of the same fish. Pointless work that hadn’t brought them any closer to catching a killer.

  There was a chance when she went downstairs things would be awkward. Having a good-looking man rubbing the sleep from his eyes and matting down his bed head wasn’t a common occurrence in her house. Maybe he’d leave. She pulled the blankets around her tightly and considered it. Perhaps he too understood how uncomfortable this could be. There was a chance he’d slip out and come back in a while.

  Minutes later she realized her mistake. It was strange that a person with such a regimented schedule could forget that someone would be knocking on her door. But the wine, the extra sleep, and the worry had clouded her just enough to forget Stephanie would be by. The knock came again, and she heard Patrick cross the small kitchen and pull the squeaky hinged door open.

  “No,” she gasped, frantically pulling on her clothes, still settling her shirt on properly as she skid down the stairs. “Stephanie,” she clamored out as she patted her wild hair down and slid in her socked feet across the kitchen floor. “You’re here.”

  “I am,” Stephanie replied in a high and unnatural voice. Her blonde hair was pinned up behind her dainty ears, perked with curiosity or possibly accusation. There was an always present sharp arch to Stephanie’s brows, but today they seemed even more so, her shiny blue eyes wide and worried.

  “This is Patrick,” Ruby sputtered out stupidly. “He was helping me last night with some photo work. It got so late he decided to stay. I came across some photos in that box you brought me last year. They are linked to something big. I can’t tell you everything but know that it’s something very serious.”

  “Makes sense,” Stephanie lied. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “No,” Patrick said, clearly not understanding all the unspoken segments of the conversation between Ruby and Stephanie right now. “I was just going to head out for some coffee. Can I bring you back one, Stephanie?”

  “No,” she said, too much breath in her reply. “I can’t stay either. I’ll head out too. I just wanted to make sure you got your groceries today.”

  “Wait,” Ruby said, remembering Stephanie’s role in this. “You brought the box of film over. Can you tell me if you remember where you got them? Specifically the ones that were on this black roll.” She flashed the spools to try to jog Stephanie’s memory.

  “I get rolls from a hundred different places,” she exaggerated. “You know how my company works. I collect things from all the surrounding islands and repurpose them or reuse them to keep junk out of the landfill. I know what to do with furniture and clothes but film has always been your thing. What kind of pictures did you find exactly?”

  “I can’t say,” Ruby reiterated. “For your own sake, trust me. You don’t want to see them. But it would be really helpful if you could try to remember.”

  “I don’t,” Stephanie snapped, shooting a look at Patrick as if her anger was somehow his fault. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “You aren’t staying?” Ruby asked, the tension making the hair on her arms stand up and the muscles in her chest stretch tight.

  “Not today,” Stephanie replied, putting the bags of groceries on the table and heading out the door as Patrick stepped out. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  “Are you mad?” Ruby asked in a whisper, catching Stephanie’s elbow before she could make her way completely out of the house.

  “No,” Stephanie said earnestly. “No I’m not mad at all. I just have something I have to do. I promise.” Ruby may not have believed her if it weren’t for the kind way she squeezed her hand and looked her square in the eye repeating, “I promise.”

  “Tomorrow then,” Ruby said. “And thank you for the groceries.”

  Chapter 6

  “Hey,” a sharp voice called from behind Patrick before he made it into the coffee shop. “What they hell are you doing?” Stephanie’s hand was on his shoulder, trying to spin him around.

  “Excuse me?” Patrick asked, his smile probably misplaced but he couldn’t help it. Weird situations always brought out his nervous smirk.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing with Ruby? You have no idea what interfering with her life can cause. You’re going to hurt her.” Stephanie jammed a finger into his chest.

  “I’m missing something here. I assure you nothing happened between Ruby and me last night. But even if it had, she’s an adult. It’s really none of your business.” It wasn’t in his nature to be so defensive but the mild hangover and cramped neck from the too small couch had him aggravated.

  “Ruby and I have been friends since she moved here. I’m one of the few people who actually stand by her. You’ve done a few stories on her but you don’t k
now her at all.”

  “How about I buy you a donut and we talk about this like rational people,” Patrick offered, pulling the door to the coffee shop open and gesturing for her to go in first.

  “I’m not feeling very rational right now,” Stephanie admitted, huffing as she pushed by him.

  “I find donuts to be life’s great equalizer. No one can be too serious with a face full of sprinkles.” Patrick ordered something for each of them and settled in the booth, even though Stephanie still seemed reluctant to give him a chance.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing to her,” Stephanie said, her voice settled now, but still layered with worry. “Ruby is a very special person. I care about her dearly. But she’s fragile.”

  “I already know she doesn’t leave the house,” Patrick offered, hoping to get past the elephant in the room. “It’s not something I’ve dealt with before, but it’s also not anything that would scare me away.”

  “I’m not talking about that,” Stephanie said, stirring a little creamer into her coffee. “I wish that was all there was. But I’m more worried about these photographs she’s talking about, sounding like you two are on some kind of mission. It’s going to send her into a spiral.”

  “You don’t even know what was on the film. How can you know what it’ll do to her?”

  “When Ruby first moved here she was kind of awkward. I mean, hell we were fifteen, all of us were. But growing up on a small island there are these cliques, worse than anywhere else, I’m sure. Being the new kid was hard. Ruby had even more stacked against her. With an archeologist dad and an author mom, they were considered an eccentric family. Ruby grew up in the most exotic places around the world, and then her parents set their sights on Bolton Bluff. Supposedly the field where we have our balloon festival, and just about every other event on the island, used to have a plot of fresh water. According to them it was the main gathering point for the indigenous people over four thousand years ago. No one here really cared.”