by Vella Day
Grandpa wrapped his arms around her. “If anything happened to you, it would kill me.”
“I’m fine.” Physically. “If only I’d turned on the light.”
Grandpa held her at arm’s lengths. “My God, no. He would have harmed you for sure.”
Kerry swallowed hard. Grandpa lowered his arms, and she looked over his shoulder. Her heart stopped. “Where did you put my skull?” Her case with the eyes and teeth remained where she’d left it.
“I didn’t touch anything.” Grandpa looked around in confusion.
Goddamn it. “He stole it.” Acid burned in her stomach as she raced to the table, praying she set the head on the floor, only it wasn’t there either. “It was the only evidence I had to identify her.” Sweat beaded on her forehead. “Now #3 will never have a name.”
He patted her back. “As long as you’re unharmed, that’s all that matters. We’ll find the skull.”
“How?”
“Sit down and call Hunter. I’ll locate a locksmith to see if he can replace the locks. I’ll have an alarm system installed. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The ramification hit her. This maniac could have killed Grandpa.
Or her. But he hadn’t.
This time.
Hunter would figure this out. She grabbed her phone. Crap. This was a crime scene. She jumped up. “We need to leave the kitchen. The forensic team doesn’t need us messing with trace evidence.”
“I agree.”
She paced the living room as Hunter’s phone rang. Come on. She didn’t like waking him early on a Sunday morning, but she had no choice.
“Markum.”
His voice came out calm, helping her breath. “It’s me, Kerry.” She couldn’t control the sob that bubbled up from her throat. “Someone broke into our house.”
“Shit. Are you hurt?”
“No. No. He stole the skull!”
“The what?”
“The #3 reconstruction I was working on.”
“Lock your doors. I’ll be right over. And Kerry?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“Don’t answer the phone or the door unless it’s me, okay?”
Like she would? “Okay.”
They waited for Hunter in the living room. All she could do was stare into space.
“Everything will be okay, Kerry. We’ll lock this place up real tight.”
The doors had been locked up real tight last night. That didn’t stop the thief. Frustration made her want to pound something, scream at someone, but the horror kept her too numb to act out her anger. She wasn’t worried about herself though. She was worried about Grandpa being alone when she was at work, and she worried Jane Doe #3’s family would never have closure. Yes, she could have a forensic artist do a 2-dimensional drawing of the photograph of the skull, but it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing.
After what seemed like an hour, a loud rap sounded on the door. Hunter. Kerry raced to answer his knock. She checked the peephole, saw his worried expression and opened the door. Without giving any thought to the consequences, she stepped close to him and leaned into his chest. Hunter wrapped his arms around her, bringing her great solace.
She backed away and wiped the tears that had trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t believe he stole the skull. I never should have brought it home.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have known. Listen, I’ve called the crime scene unit. They should be here any minute.” He placed a warm hand on her waist and led her over to the sofa. “Sit down.”
As if he were psychic, a van pulled into their drive. He stepped over to the bay window. “It’s them.”
Hunter greeted Crandall Pickford, the same person who’d been the lead CSU person on the Jane Doe cases, and his four assistants. Hunter introduced them to her grandfather.
“Kerry, can you show us what was disturbed?” Hunter used a soft, soothing voice.
She nodded. Only then did she notice her rather see-through nightgown. “Can you wait a sec for me to put something on?” She crossed her arms, but when Hunter’s gaze dropped to her breasts, she refused to address how warm and powerful that made her feel.
“Sure.” Hunter stepped in front of her, blocking the men’s view as she raced to her room.
She threw on a pair of jeans, a sports bra and T-shirt. So as not to gather any additional evidence on the soles of her feet, she slipped on a pair of sneakers. She marched out of her room and hurried to the kitchen entrance. “He came in through there.” She pointed toward the back door.
“How do you know he came in through the back?” Hunter asked.
“The deadbolt on the front door was still locked this morning.”
The technicians went to work, photographing and dusting every conceivable surface, measuring distances as they went.
Hunter stayed with her at the kitchen entrance. He leaned in close. “Are you okay?” She looked up at him. “I mean really okay?”
“I’m so angry I could spit. Why did he have to take the evidence?”
“It tells me we’re getting near, and that one person probably perpetrated these crimes. He’s scared to death we’ll find the identities of these women and then find him.”
Grandpa stepped behind them. “I’m going to ask Frank, Chuck, and Richard to begin twenty-four hour surveillance on the house.”
“Great,” Hunter said.
Hunter placed a gentle hand on her waist, and another tingle of anticipation took her mind off her despair for a brief moment.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked. She could smell his minty mouthwash.
“Sure.”
With her grandfather transfixed watching the technicians, Hunter sidled over to the front door. “I’m sure your grandfather’s friends mean well, but if this guy was able to get into your house without your knowledge, he could probably pick off the old men one at a time.”
Another wave of fear skittered up her spine. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’ve succeeded.”
“I’m sorry, but you need to face reality. You’re obviously not safe in this house. I know you won’t like this suggestion, but I think you should move in with me.”
13
“Daddy, is she going to be our new mommy?” Melissa looked up at Hunter with adoring eyes.
Kerry smiled at the innocent question while forcing her heart not to break. Her daughter, had she lived, would have been almost two.
No, sweetheart.” Hunter knelt eye level to Melissa and ran a gentle hand down the little girl’s blond curls. “Kerry is working on a case with me. There’s a bad guy after her. I want her to be safe, so I brought her to the safest place in the world.”
“You mean here, Daddy, with us?” Melissa’s eyes widened.
“Yup.”
“Okay.” His daughter slipped from his grasp and skipped over to Kerry. “You want to see my room?”
Kerry laughed at Melissa’s acceptance of everything her father said. “Sure.”
Hunter raised his brows and smirked. “I’ll put your things in the guest room.”
Melissa grabbed Kerry’s hand. Baby powder and sweet shampoo floated upward. What she wouldn’t give to have her own little girl back.
Melissa led Kerry past the room where Hunter was stashing her suitcase and into the last room on the right.
The little girl halted at the entrance. “Isn’t it beautiful? Aunt Jen and I decorated it.”
Kerry smiled. “It sure is.”
A blue ceiling, complete with white puffy clouds, hovered above a four-poster bed with a pink and white checkered bedspread. Sitting in one corner was a large bin filled with toys, and off to the side was a bookcase that spilled over with dolls of every kind.
“Come see this.” Melissa pulled her toward the desk. A small laptop glowed. “Daddy gave this to me. I can play games on it and everything.”
Hunter’s daughter was well loved.
The object of Melissa’s adoration appeared in the doorway. “
Melissa, let’s let Kerry get settled. You can play with her later. She’s already had a hard day.”
“Why did she have a hard day?”
“Why don’t you play with your dolls while Kerry and I talk about our case?”
“Okay.” Question forgotten, apparently.
“Come here.” Hunter opened his arms and Melissa ran toward him. He lifted her up, gave her a kiss, and then spun her around. “You’re such a good girl. Love you.”
“Love you back, Daddy.”
He set his daughter down and then flicked his head toward the living room.
Kerry followed. “You’ve done a wonderful job with Melissa. She’s delightful.”
“Thank Jen. I don’t know what I would have done without her, especially with my hours.” Wrinkles etched around the smooth area of his eyes.
“Ever think of quitting the force?”
His jaw twitched. “No. Too any criminals still to put away.”
Oo-kay. She wouldn’t bring up that topic again. His pinched mouth made her want to hug him, but she didn’t dare. She needed to stay objective and couldn’t chance not solving this case.
“Let me show you to your new digs. I’m afraid it isn’t fancy. The room is actually my office, and you’ll have to sleep on a pull-out bed.”
She smiled. “That’s wonderful. One can’t put a price tag on peace of mind.” A jolt of apprehension jerked her to attention, and she grabbed Hunter’s arm. “Ohmigod. Whoever stole the skull doesn’t know I’ve left Grandpa’s house. He may come back and harm him.”
Hunter turned and ran his hands down her arms. “I’ve thought of that. Now that a crime has been committed, we’ll have a squad car outside your house at night. At least until our killer realizes you aren’t there.”
Kerry let out a breath. “Thank you.”
Hunter shifted his stance, tucked his thumbs in his pockets and straightened. He cleared his throat. “Let me show you to your suite.” Her heart thawed under the heat of his smile.
He led her into a room measuring about twelve feet by ten feet. All the office furnishings were a boring brown down to the desk, two bookcases, one five-drawer file cabinet and a sofa.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all the space I have.”
Had the disappointment she’d tried hard to bury color her face? At least there was a closet for her to hang her things. “No. It’s perfect.”
“Unpack, then meet me in the living room. I want to go over your statement again.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes witnesses recall things after they’ve had time to reflect.”
She shrugged. “You’re the expert.”
Hunter leaned against the back of the sofa and slapped his notebook closed. “I appreciate your willingness to talk about this nightmare one more time.”
“I wish I could remember more,” Kerry said. “I know how much one sound, one smell, one thing out of place can help.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “It feels like someone erased my memory after I went back to sleep.”
“You did fine.”
She leaned forward on the recliner across from him. “Let me make it up to you by cooking dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that. You’ve recalled more than most witnesses I’ve interviewed.”
Her lips pressed together. “That may be, but I need to do something with my hands or I’ll go crazy.”
“You sure? I suck at cooking, so you won’t get an argument from me.” He mentally raced through what he had in the cupboard and in the refrigerator. “I don’t have much in the way of fancy ingredients.”
She smiled and his other brain reacted.
“Leave everything to me and your daughter.”
“You’re the boss.”
Hunter gathered Melissa and let the two of them do their thing. His daughter was overjoyed when Kerry asked her to choose the menu. Her pick was spaghetti and meatballs. He could have guessed. It was his daughter’s favorite.
As they searched the kitchen for the pots and pans to prepare the meal, he squeezed his eyes shut when Kerry guided Melissa’s hand in stirring the pot.
He wasn’t wishing for an Amy replacement. Far from it. But someday he dreamed of a mother for Melissa and a wife at his side—someone who would understand the rigors of police work. That was one area where he and Amy had disagreed almost nightly. She never understood why he couldn’t just walk away from an assignment when she wanted him home.
“Melissa,” Kerry said, “would you mind setting the table?”
“Sure.” She spun around toward Hunter. “Can you help me, Daddy?”
Hunter pushed away from the doorjamb and hustled toward her. He pulled the dishes from the cabinets and placed them on the table. Melissa took over and lined up the silverware next to the plates.
Ten minutes later, Kerry brought over the meal to the table and smiled. “Dinner’s ready.”
Her smile almost made him forget why she was here.
They ate in silence for the first few minutes. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been.
Melissa broke the quiet. “This is great, Kerry. Daddy’s not a very good cook.”
“Hey, watch it, Pumpkin. I can boil water with the best of them.” He reached over and ruffled her hair.
“Aw, Daddy, I was only kidding.”
Little stinker would be a major man-eater when she grew up. She was sprouting up way too fast for him as it was.
Just as they finished, his phone rang. “Excuse me.” He glanced at the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number. “Markum.”
“Detective... Markum?”
“Yes.”
“This is Jamal Wilson. I saw you on the news. I think the clay model might be my fiancée. She disappeared seven months ago.”
His pulse jetted into overdrive. Hunter recognized the name. Jamal had been questioned when his fiancée went missing. “Would you mind coming to the police station? You can get a closer look at the model.”
“Sure. When?”
“Say, in forty-five minutes?”
“I can be there.”
“And bring some photos of your fiancée. They’ll help our forensic anthropologist determine if our body is hers.”
Jamal let out a small gasp that sounded fake.
“I’ll, ah, see what I have. Bye.” Jamal disconnected.
Hunter put his cell phone away. Every muscle in Kerry’s body tensed. Because Hunter didn’t want to discuss anything in front of Melissa, he lifted his daughter’s chin. “Sweetheart. I’m afraid—”
She moved out of his reach and his throat clogged. Hunter swallowed. “Melissa?”
“I know. You have to take care of something.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’ll get ready to go over to Aunt Jen’s.”
Her small cracking voice ripped him up inside. “I’m sorry, hon.”
“That’s okay. You have to save the world. I understand.”
Jen must have told her that tale. He leaned over and kissed her. “Get ready then.”
When Melissa had left the kitchen, he told Kerry about the call.
Her eyes brightened. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I can’t help but be excited. We might have identified our second victim.”
After they dropped Melissa off at Jen’s house, Hunter drove them to the M.E.’s office to pick up #1’s reconstruction for Jamal to study up close and personal. Good thing Kerry had the key code to get in.
The head-on-a-stick, as Hunter dubbed it, now sat in front of Jamal Wilson at the conference table.
“I’m not sure,” Jamal said, shaking his head at the model.
“Why did you wait so long to call?” Hunter asked. They’d displayed the case three days ago.
“The face only kind of looked like Tameka, you know what I mean?”
Kerry leaned forward. “Reconstructions aren’t exact science, Mr. Wilson. I had to guess the shape of the lips, ears, eyelids and other parts that are formed by fatty tissue rather than by bon
e.” Kerry tapped the pile of photos he had sitting in front of him. “May I see what you brought?”
“Sorry.” He slid the pictures over to her. “I had to get them from her mom.”
He didn’t have any photos of her? Something didn’t fit.
Kerry flipped through the pictures. “May I keep these for a little while? I’d like to scan them into the computer to compare them to the X-ray of her face. This might give me a better idea if we have a match.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Hunter opened Wilson’s file. “It says here you were brought in for questioning in regards to Tameka’s disappearance.”
“Yeah, but they got nothin’ on me.” Cocky SOB.
Hunter leaned back. “You and I both know, Mr. Wilson, that if this is Tameka’s body, we could bring formal charges against you.”
He waved a hand, but Hunter could tell it was all bravado. “I got nothing to hide. I didn’t kill her. I loved her.”
That was why he’d hit her. “Says here there were four domestic violence calls against you.”
Wilson crossed his arms. “I didn’t come here to get fucking interrogated. I wanted to make sure this was my woman, that she hadn’t run off.”
He probably meant he wanted to make sure his slave hadn’t left on her own free will. Most likely he missed having her cook and clean for him.
Hunter’s avenue of questioning wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Why don’t you start with the last time you saw Tameka?”
Jamal shrugged. “I don’t know the exact date. It’s been a long time, ya know?”
“What were you doing right before she disappeared? Surely, you can remember the day Tameka didn’t come home. After all, you were engaged to the woman.” Acid burned in Hunter’s gut. The man didn’t deserve Tameka.
“Sure. I was at work. She had some kind of doctor’s appointment or something after she finished her shift. I never saw her again after that.”
Hunter straightened. “What kind of doctor’s appointment?”
Jamal skewed up his lips. “What do you care?”
“It may be important.” Hunter forced his tone to be civil.
Jamal rolled his eyes. “I think it was a plastic surgeon. She’d had to have some work done to her face and all.”