Carly shook her head, then paused. “I wasn’t on the roster, but I did get a call and go out last night.”
Vic frowned.
“Mary Hanson and her husband were at it again. Or rather, he was at her again,” she explained. Mary and Bill Hanson had been her landlords at her old apartment—a small one bedroom she’d rented above the appliance store they owned. She’d only recently moved, but during her time as their tenant she’d had much too close of a look into their relationship to walk away. Bill Hanson was not a nice drunk. And he was drunk more often than not.
“You could have let Lucy and Jake handle it.”
Carly lifted a shoulder. “I could have, but Bill’s brother owns the shop Lucy’s husband works at. I didn’t want to put her in the middle of something that could have a bad outcome for her husband.”
Vic let out a sigh. “Of course. But you look wiped, why don’t you head home after you finish the reports?”
“The reports are done. I sent them to you and Ian. I’m waiting to hear from Vivi or Marcus at the lab, but maybe I’ll take you up on that later this afternoon.” Marguerite’s death had a lot of implications she and Marcus needed to discuss and having the option of taking some time to do it seemed wise.
“Good, do that. Speaking of the lab, any news yet?”
Carly shook her head. “No, we found no identification on her, but I’m sure Vivi, Dr. Buckley, and the rest of the team will do what they can.” She glanced at the clock, it had been five hours since she’d left the crime scene. “I expect I should hear something soon,” she added.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, her phone rang and Marcus’s number popped up on her screen. “Marcus,” she said to Vic as she picked up her cell without answering it.
Vic pushed off from the door. “I’ll let you get to it. Let me know if I can help,” he added, then closed the door behind him as he left.
She made sure he was out of hearing range before she answered. “Marcus?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“And?” she pressed without preamble.
“Her prints didn’t show up in the system.”
She wanted to scream, “What?” but she forced herself to take a deep breath and think.
“It can’t be good,” Marcus said.
“Are you . . . ?”
“No one can hear me.” He answered her unspoken question.
“What do you think?”
“A lot of things, and none of them are good.”
“Not helpful, Marcus.”
He let out a long breath. “I think whoever killed her could have erased her prints from the system.”
Carly wasn’t much of a conspiracy theorist, but Marcus’s thoughts mirrored hers, with good reason. It had been a few years since they’d seen Marguerite, but a cold case over a decade old that involved corrupt FBI agents is what tied her to them, and through them to Windsor.
If Marguerite had decided to re-open that case, those who had been investigated years ago, men and women who had probably risen in the ranks since that initial investigation, would have the power to do something like that—they would have the power to erase her existence.
“Maybe she was working on something that required her team to erase her from the databases?” she contemplated.
“And somehow her body ended up here? Come on, Carly.”
Marcus was right and she knew better. The only tie between Marguerite and Windsor was her connection to Carly and Marcus. A yawning pit of guilt opened up in her stomach. She wasn’t sure she would be able to live with the possibility that Marguerite had died trying to protect the two of them.
“Oh god,” she said rubbing her free hand over her eyes.
“It was a warning. I don’t think we can look at it any other way.”
“But of what?” she demanded. “And why erase her prints then dump her where someone is sure to recognize her?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus bit out, “I don’t know about any of it,” he said, obviously sharing her frustration. “But we need to figure it out.”
She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from making another snarky comment about his observations of the obvious. Forcing herself to slow down, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What mattered right at that moment?
Marguerite.
“Does Vivi know anything else? Did she do the autopsy?” Carly hated the sound of those words coming out of her mouth.
Marcus paused before answering. “Yeah, she did.”
The crack she heard in his voice almost caused her own shell to fracture. Abruptly, she swung her chair away from her door and looked out the window as she fought the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
“And?” Her voice sounded as weak as she felt.
Marcus started to speak, then stopped to clear his throat. On the other end of the line, he struggled to hold himself together. After a moment, he started again.
“She was tortured. Mostly with a knife. Likely a small, generic hunting knife. She was also beaten, five of her ribs were broken, and her torso,” his voice broke again and he paused before finishing in a rush. “Her torso was bruised just about everywhere. Her femur was broken, there were cigarette burns on her breasts and inner thighs. The ultimate cause of death was internal bleeding from the beating.”
Carly nearly threw up at the imagery Marcus’s words had brought forth. Clenching her jaw, she took several deep breaths through her nose and willed the nausea away. She didn’t have the right to be weak right now. Not after what Marguerite had suffered.
When she knew she could speak again, she did. “What is Vivi doing to identify her?”
“Facial recognition and DNA. But if she’s been wiped from the fingerprint databases, it’s likely the DNA, and maybe even any official photo identification records, will show up blank as well—and it will take some time to get those results,” Marcus answered. “Do you still have those three burner phones we bought a while back?” he asked, changing the direction of the conversation.
She did, but it took a minute for her to remember where she might have put them during her move before she answered him. “Yes.”
“Take one and call Marguerite’s boss.”
“Do you even know who Marguerite’s boss is?” Carly asked. “I don’t, and if we just get routed through to the tip line, it could be days before they follow up.”
“Then one of us needs to contact Lorraine and tell her. She can call it in,” Marcus snapped.
She agreed, but the uncertainties were making her cautious. “Whoever did this went to the trouble of erasing Marguerite’s existence before leaving her body in Windsor as a message to us. Until we have a better understanding of just what that message is supposed to be, I don’t want to make any moves, like leading them to Marguerite’s family. Whatever you and I decide to do, we need to stay under the radar in case we are being watched.”
She heard Marcus let out a deep breath—acceptance mixed with frustration. “What do we do then? If we are being watched, I get that we may not want to pick up a phone and call Lorraine or rush off to visit her in New Hampshire, but we can’t let Marguerite remain nameless.”
Carly sat motionless, as a plan began to form. “What if I do ‘rush off’ to see her, but I do it in Kit’s SUV rather than my car?” she started. “She already told me I could use it to move the last of my boxes from the storage shed. Chances are, if someone is watching us, they’ll be tracking us through our phones and watching our cars.”
After a moment, Marcus made a sound of assent then asked, “And then from there? I assume you’ll tell Lorraine and have her call it in?”
“Lorraine and Marguerite were always so close, I bet she knows who Marguerite’s boss was. She can call it in and say someone contacted her and told her she needed to contact the state lab of New York about Marguerite. Once she does, it will at least bring Marguerite’s own people into the investigation,” Carly said. The plan had a number of steps in it but its complexity w
ouldn’t increase the risk significantly.
“It’s simpler than it sounds, isn’t it?” Marcus asked. “And once Marguerite’s people identify her body and take over—”
“Then we can focus on figuring out what this all has to do with us,” she finished.
They were both silent for a long moment, then Marcus spoke. “I hate this.”
She sighed. “Yeah, you and me both. But what choice do we have?”
“What choice did we ever have?” came his bitter response.
Carly had nothing to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “It’s just . . .” His voice trailed off.
“It’s been a long, shitty day,” she said.
“And one that isn’t over for you yet,” he pointed out.
“I’ll bet it’s not over for you either, since you’re still at the lab, aren’t you?”
She could almost hear his shrug. “I am, but I still have my place here in Albany so it’s not a big deal. Vivi and the team were just organizing the evidence the techs brought in when I stepped away to call you. They were going to run a few preliminary tests this afternoon and begin fully processing everything tomorrow. I’ll go through those preliminary reports when they come in and see if anything new comes up and then head home after that.”
She wanted to ask him to call her if he learned anything, but in case their phones were being tracked, their quasi-elaborate plan included radio silence between the two of them until she returned to Windsor.
Again, she let out a deep sigh as she swung her chair back to her desk. “I’ll call you when I get home?”
“Yeah, do,” Marcus answered after a brief hesitation. “And Carly?”
“Yeah?”
“Be safe.”
“I will,” she said as they ended the call.
She stared at her phone for a long moment before pulling herself together. She’d have to go face Drew and Dani and Ty and any of Kit’s other houseguests and make nice before being able to leave with Kit’s Land Rover. She glanced at the clock again and took a deep breath. It would take her two and half hours to drive to Lorraine’s home in Keene, New Hampshire.
For more reasons than just the drive, it was going to be a long night.
Chapter Three
Carly’s visit with Lorraine had been as difficult as she’d imagined. As she wound her way through the back roads, having opted for the long, quiet way home rather than the interstate, she still felt the sting of the tears she’d shared with the older woman, Marguerite’s aunt. Carly hadn’t doubted for a moment that Lorraine would agree to the plan she and Marcus had devised, but still, it had been heartbreaking to even have to ask.
Glancing at the clock on the dash as she stopped at a light in Williamstown, Massachusetts, she knew it would be well past ten o’clock by the time she pulled into her own driveway. After the night she’d had dealing with Mary and Bill Hanson and then the day that had followed, falling straight into bed, even if sleep eluded her, called to her like a siren song. But as she envisioned her pillow and quilt, her stomach reminded her that food was a necessity, not an option, in life.
Begrudging her own needs, Carly decided to make a quick stop by The Tavern to pick up some of Rob’s butternut squash soup after she dropped the SUV back at Kit’s house. She’d call Marcus while she ate and then, hopefully, climb into her king-size bed after that.
Realizing her day had seemed to consist of nothing but making and implementing plans, she let out a wry laugh in the darkness of her car. Ian’s mentoring had clearly extended beyond just teaching her how to be a good officer.
• • •
Sitting with his family at The Tavern as they waited for their dessert and after-dinner drinks, Drew felt the air shift around him. The subtle and momentary drop in temperature told him someone had entered the restaurant, but a little prickling at his neck had him on alert. Glancing up, he saw Deputy Chief Carly Drummond looking quickly away from his table as she made her way to the bar.
His eyes tracked her as she walked across the restaurant. She had changed out of the uniform she’d worn earlier in the day—which wasn’t surprising since it was well past nine in the evening—and now wore fitted jeans, dark boots with a small square heel, and a dark green sweater covered by an off-white winter vest. Her blonde hair, which reached just below her chin, had been clipped back when he’d seen her earlier. It was down now, curling around her face and, judging by the way she’d shoved the same few errant strands of it behind her ear twice in the last ten seconds, he’d wager she hated those curls—or at the very least, found them annoying.
Pulling up a seat at the bar, she started chatting with the barkeep, who, if Drew remembered correctly, was named Rob and also owned the place. He waited until Carly had placed her order and a drink had been placed in front of her before he made his move.
“Excuse me,” he said to everyone with a gesture of his head in Carly’s direction. “Mind if I ask if she’d like to join us?”
The question earned him a few curious looks, but everyone immediately consented, so he rose from his seat and approached the bar.
A glass of what looked like whiskey with one ice cube had just touched her lips when he sat down next to her. “Deputy Chief Drummond,” he said. The look that flashed across her profile before she turned to him almost made him laugh. If he’d had any previous doubts about whether or not she wanted to talk to him, he certainly didn’t now.
She took a deep breath before she turned toward him. “Please, call me Carly.”
He gave her a small smile. “Your day is finally over then, Carly?”
She raised her glass. “Almost. I’m picking up some dinner then heading home for the night. I dropped Kit’s car back already.”
“Come join us while you wait,” he suggested, nodding toward the table where Jason and Sam sat across from Dani and Ty.
She shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t want to interrupt your dinner. And I’ll only be waiting for a few minutes, I just ordered some soup to go.”
“Then all the more reason,” he insisted. He knew from the way she’d fixed her eyes on some point behind the bar that if she could find a polite way to say it, she would to tell him to go away. But he had great faith in the fact that it wouldn’t do to have the Deputy Chief of Police, a public figure, act rudely toward tourists, even when off duty. He chose not to acknowledge that using this to his advantage didn’t even cause a ripple in his conscience.
When she let out a tiny little sigh and looked down at her drink, he knew he’d won the mini-battle. Turning back to him, she said, “If it won’t be an imposition.”
“Not at all,” he answered, sliding off his seat. As he pulled her chair back for her, his hand grazed her shoulders and her startled look almost teased a smile from him.
When they reached his family, he pulled a chair over for Carly while she said hello to Dani and Ty. Drew introduced Sam and Jason and they all settled themselves around the table, making room for the additional seat. When the shuffling of the chairs subsided and everyone was back in their spots, a beat of awkward silence passed before Ty spoke up.
“Did you get an ID on the woman?” he asked, as he raised his glass to take a sip of wine.
Carly pursed her lips. “No, we didn’t. Not yet anyway. Her fingerprints weren’t in the system.”
Ty’s brows shot up in surprise. “That’s unusual. Is there anything you can tell us?”
“Not dinner talk,” Dani interjected, softening the rebuke with a smile.
Ty rolled his eyes. “Right because we never talk about our work at our dinner table.”
“This is not our dinner table and no doubt Deputy Chief Drummond has had a long day. And it’s not as though you aren’t familiar with the fact that, because it’s part of an ongoing investigation, she likely couldn’t tell you anything anyway,” Dani responded without skipping a beat.
Drew watched Carly as her eyes bounced between the husband and wife. Ty leaned down a
nd whispered something in Dani’s ear. Dani responded by elbowing him in the side and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “pervert” as she smiled. Carly looked away.
“Of course, my wife is right,” Ty conceded. “But as one law enforcement to another, I do hope it’s going well.”
Carly’s hazel eyes stilled for a moment as everyone’s gaze landed on her, then she blinked. “Thank you,” she said, dropping her eyes to her glass before looking up again. “And please, call me Carly.” A few awkward moments of silence passed before she cleared her throat and spoke. “So twins? It must run in the family then?” she asked, looking to Sam and Dani. It was the right question to ask because the parents at the table seemed to take it from there, leading the conversation from pregnancy, to kids, to schools, to travel without kids, and everywhere in between. Drew didn’t miss the fact that, with this topic, Carly had little need to participate in the conversation other than a response or question here and there.
He didn’t have to wonder if the tactic was intentional. He’d known from the first moment he’d met her, when she’d walked into Kit’s hospital room after the attack in Carly’s parking lot, that she was more reserved than not.
Neither woman had escaped the attack unharmed, but when he’d tried to ask Carly how she was, she’d simply given him a long, assessing look before turning her back on him and brushing off the injuries she’d incurred while dragging Kit out of the way of a car intent on running her over with a two-word response, “I’m fine.” And she hadn’t been rude in their few subsequent meetings during the week that had followed, but she hadn’t exactly invited conversation either—sharing nothing with him other than the bare necessities.
Still, he remembered that hospital visit with abnormal clarity. And, over the months, that fact had come to bother him, because there was no reason why those few moments he’d shared with Carly in Kit’s room, should feel so poignant. He’d obviously been attracted to other women, and he certainly recognized the response when it came to Carly—he even understood that it was mutual, though Carly might not willingly make the same admission—but that didn’t seem like enough to explain why she’d hovered in the periphery of his mind since that day they’d met in the hospital.
An Inarticulate Sea Page 4