by Sarah Sutton
“Mills,” he said before she could even say hello. His voice was tense with urgency, and before he even said his next words, Tara knew what he was going to say. She felt a sudden rush to her head. “They found a body. It looks like Sofia’s,” he added, confirming what Tara felt in her core but desperately hoped not to hear. Her heart sank as she fully sat up.
“Where?” A wave of guilt rose up.
“Fowler Beach. It’s about a half hour north of Dewey.” Warren’s words were short and rushed. Tara could tell he was in the car. She could hear the constant hum of a motor.
She stood up, placing her laptop on the coffee table. “I’ll meet you there,” she said. She didn’t need to hear more. Warren mentioned where to meet, and they quickly said their goodbyes.
Tara placed her phone on the coffee table. She was about to make her way to her bedroom and get ready, but she lingered momentarily. The laptop caught her eye. In the commotion of answering Warren’s call, she had almost forgotten why she woke up on the couch in the first place. Mackenzie James still lingered in her mind, but she didn’t have time to focus on that now. This case needed her more. Tara turned away from the laptop and hurriedly made way to her bedroom.
***
Tara pulled up along a dead-end sandy road. Warren’s car was already there, parked behind a row of forensic vehicles and cop cars. No news vans had arrived yet, but Tara knew it was only a matter of time.
Unlike Dewey Beach, this one was a bit off the beaten path. Tara had driven about a mile without seeing a single home, and she was almost certain that none lined the beach in front of her. She parked and looked toward the row of beach grass between her and the water. Not a single home could be seen. She knew it would make their job more difficult. Even though there were no witnesses at the last scene, there certainly wouldn’t be any here, unless the killer did something foolish, and Tara knew he wouldn’t.
She stepped out of the car and made her way to the entranceway of the beach. The wind blew wildly, sweeping up little beads of sand until they struck her face as she walked. She squinted until they passed. And as she opened her eyes wide again, she could see a news van approaching. It bumped along the old road and then turned sharply to park, sending a cloud of sand into the air. The van came to an abrupt halt, and a male reporter jumped out, along with a cameraman, hoisting his heavy gear on his shoulder. It was the same reporter that had shoved a microphone in Tara’s face at the medical examiner’s office. He made eye contact with her briefly, but Tara quickly turned. She wasn’t ready to answer any questions.
Pretty soon, a row of news vans paraded down the street. Another one parked quickly, and a tall brunette swung open the passenger door, microphone already in hand. Tara knew it was only a matter of time before they would hound her. She reached the pathway and stepped over the yellow tape tied to each end of the sand fencing. She was quickly out of his reach, and she was thankful for that.
She focused ahead of her as she hurried onto the beach. She could see Warren up ahead, about two hundred yards away, standing atop the dunes. He was talking to someone, and as Tara grew closer, she could see that it was a cop she did not recognize, dressed in uniform. Forensics personnel were scattered around them, searching diligently in the sand for anything of substance. Warren didn’t even see Tara was approaching. He and the officer were staring at the ground between them. Warren’s face was tense with pain, and it caused Tara’s stomach to twist in a knot. She knew what they were looking at: Sofia’s body.
She took a deep breath as she stepped over the sand dune fence and trudged up the small hill. Warren looked up at her presence. A look of sheer horror and disappointment was clear on his face. Another innocent teenage girl had been taken; another life lost. While they were never certain if Sofia was still alive, they had certainly hoped they would find her that way, that they would be able to save her and return her to her family. Now they both knew that another family would never be the same, that their daughter’s future would never be lived.
The officer nodded as she finally stood in front of them. She kept her eyes steady, moving between each of them as Warren admitted that he had arrived just before her. Tara couldn’t dare look down yet into the gaping hole that she sensed between them.
“Chief Garcia,” the man said as he held out his hand. He was short, with a round belly and clean-shaven face. Tara introduced herself as well, but after their introductions a silence fell between them. Warren and Tara met eyes, and then his fell into the hole, reminding Tara that she still hadn’t looked down.
She took a deep breath as she followed Warren’s eyes. About a few feet deep, Tara could just make out Sofia’s face, still covered by bits of sand. Her eyes were closed, but she could see the unmistakable button nose, the curly brown hair. Her skin was now a bluish tint, making the marks around her neck more apparent. They were the same marks found on Reese.
Tara took a deep breath, giving relief to the swell of anger and sadness that had risen up in full force. She looked at Warren and then Chief Garcia.
“When did you find her?”
“I was just telling Warren. Early this morning,” he replied. “I’ve had my cops looking at every beach in the area, and I know others have been doing the same all down the coast in Sussex County.” He shook his head at his words, as he tried to stifle his emotions. “I’ve got teenage girls myself, this one hit home.”
Tara looked at Warren. She knew those words would hit him hard after what he had told her about his wife and daughter. She could see the pain surface, but then he shot his eyes to ground, trying to remove any trace of it.
Tara tried not to draw attention to him and bent down, getting a closer look in the hole. She studied the blue marks on Sofia’s neck. “Looks like the same marks we saw on Reese,” she said to Warren.
He nodded. “Strangulation.”
Tara bent down farther, now sitting on her heels. Around Sofia’s wrists were the same dark blue ligature marks they had seen on Reese. She scanned the rest of the body. Sofia wore a loose-fitting t-shirt and a pair of jean capris, folded halfway down her calves. Just above her sneakers, around her ankles, the same blue ligature marks were apparent. Tara pointed them out to Warren.
He nodded. “Looks just like Reese too.”
Tare looked up. “Do we know an approximate time of death?”
Chief Garcia nodded. “Forensics said it looks she died the night or early morning after she was abducted, between midnight and 2:00 a.m. yesterday morning. He must’ve buried her pretty soon after that, because we started searching this beach around seven.”
His words caused a sudden chill to rise up Tara’s spine and then burst into frustration in her mind. Chief Garcia and his officers had possibly just missed the killer. If they had arrived only a few hours earlier, the killer would’ve still been there, caught in the act of burying Sofia’s body. But it wasn’t just that missed opportunity that tugged on her conscience. There was something else that tugged even harder—the time Sofia was still alive. She had been abducted between eight and nine, which meant that she had been alive for a few hours before she was killed, but Tara and Warren had failed to find her. The realization sat heavy.
But Tara also knew she couldn’t dwell on a lost moment. The killer was still out there. They had to focus on the path ahead of them, carefully deciding where to place their footing. Her thoughts turned to Brennan. She knew it was still possible that he could be who they were looking for. If he had buried the body yesterday morning, he would still have had time to get home before Tara and Warren arrived at his door. An eyewitness was all they would need to be sure, but Tara knew the chances were slim.
“No witnesses?” she asked.
Chief Garcia shook his head with disappointment. “There’s not much around here, and no one would be on the beach that late.” His words only confirmed what Tara suspected. But then he added, “I was going to tell Warren before you got here that we did find something. I’m not sure what it means, though.” Tara�
�s ears perked up, and so did Warren’s. He stepped a bit closer.
They hadn’t even realized that Chief Garcia was tightly holding an evidence bag. He held it out in front of him. “We found this when we were digging her up,” he said as Tara focused on the bag. “It was placed on top of her. Might’ve fallen out of the killer’s pocket.” Tara leaned in closer. Inside sat a small black rectangular object. At first she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but then she recognized it. She had seen one before, when John bought her a camera for Christmas one year. It was a memory card.
She looked at Warren. She could tell he recognized it right away, and his eyes lit up. “Have you checked if anything is on it?” he asked.
Chief Garcia shook his head. “We were going to leave that up to you guys. Forensics dusted it but couldn’t get a print off it.” He handed it to Warren, who then turned to Tara. She could see hope swirl in his eyes. Whatever was on that memory card had the potential to give them clues into who the killer was, or where they could find him. Tara felt a sudden flutter in her chest at the thought. But she also thought it seemed too easy. There were no prints. Was it possible that the killer strategically left it at the scene on purpose?
Warren thanked him as he held the bag in front of his face, studying it once more. “Mind if we use your station to take a look?”
Chief Garcia frowned and shook his head, as if Warren’s question didn’t need to be asked.
Warren looked at Tara. He knew that what he held could be a possible lead, and so did she. After a short goodbye to the chief, they turned on their heels, trudging through the sand.
As they neared the parking lot, Warren opened his mouth to speak, but his phone interrupted. He stopped in his tracks as he pulled out his phone and held it to his ear.
“This is Agent Warren.” He grew quiet as he intently listened. He squinted out onto the water.
Tara eagerly waited next to him. She could only think of one person who would call: forensics. It was likely they had the DNA results for the hair found in Brennan’s car and that the cops would have checked out his alibi by now.
After a few moments went by, Warren thanked whoever it was and was quickly off the phone. He turned to Tara.
He sighed. “Brennan’s alibi checks out,” he confirmed, speaking in a low whisper, careful not to be overheard by reporters. Tara nodded with disappointment. She had a gut feeling Brennan wasn’t the killer, but it also confirmed that they were starting from ground zero. “He was with the PI the night Sofia went missing,” Warren added.
“And the hair?” Tara asked.
“It was his ex-wife’s hair,” he replied, only confirming what Tara already suspected. She had remembered what his ex-wife had said, that her husband had brought over boxes of her things to her sister’s place unsolicited. It was likely that he had put those belongings in his trunk and that her hair was on them.
Warren looked over at the reporters standing yards away from them, by the entrance to the beach. They were too far to overhear, but they were watching Tara and Warren intently.
“We should go,” he finally said.
Tara nodded, and they both turned to their cars. They walked in silence as one question continued to dominate Tara’s mind. If Brennan wasn’t the killer, then who was?
Chapter Twenty Two
Warren and Tara stood next to the computer, hovering over a row of memory card adapters. The police station had given them every device they had that could possibly read the memory card, but so far none of them had worked. Some were too large for the card, others too small, and those that fit caused an error message to flash across the screen.
Tara was beginning to lose hope. She could hear the clock ticking away in her head each time another adapter failed. They needed to know what was on that card, and every moment that they wasted was an opportunity for the killer to plan for his next victim. It sent a chill down Tara’s spine.
“I had no idea this would be so difficult,” she admitted in frustration. She had only owned one camera in her life, and she knew that memory cards required adapters, but she didn’t know that each card was so unique in what it required.
Warren sighed as he shook his head. He tried another, and another, until he was at the last one in the row. He slid the memory card into the adapter and plugged in the USB. They waited, a linger of hope beginning to intensify. But then Card Error flashed across the screen.
Warren shook his head again, letting out another sigh as he fully stood up. Tara did the same.
“We’ll have to go to a camera store,” Tara said.
Warren nodded. They both knew that a camera store was not only where they would find the correct adapter, but they would also learn more information on what type of camera was used. It could also help them narrow down who would own one, or if anyone had bought one in the area.
Tara took a seat at the computer as Warren pulled a chair up next to her. She opened a search engine and began to search for any stores in the area. She started in the area they now were, by Fowler Beach, but after scrolling through a string of results and searching a few different ways, nothing of interest popped up. It was just as Tara expected. There weren’t many commercial buildings in the area, from what she could see, and it was hard to envision a camera store.
Her fingers clicked on the keyboard. Her next destination was Dewey Beach. She had a good feeling that she would find something as she scrolled through the results. After all, it was where the murders started. She suspected that it was more likely the killer would purchase a camera in that area. It was also a more touristy area and seemed fitting for a camera store.
Warren leaned in closer as Tara let the mouse hover over a location. It was exactly what they were looking for—a store that sold all kinds of cameras and gear—and it was right in the center of town. Without even a word, Warren took out his phone and put the address in his GPS.
“It’s about thirty-five minutes,” he said as he suddenly stood up, heading to the door.
Tara was right behind him. As she reached the door frame, she looked down at her phone, tight in her grip. It was now 9:00 a.m., and the realization gave Tara a sudden burst in her step. She knew how quickly time passed. They needed answers fast if they were going to stop this killer before he struck again.
***
Tara stared out the window, watching the beach grass dance in the wind as the car sped past. Warren had insisted on driving, as usual.
They had been in the car for nearly twenty minutes, but they had barely spoken, each too immersed in their own thoughts. Tara looked back down at her lap, where Sofia’s case file sat open. She had already gone through each case file twice already, trying to see if there was anything she had missed. But after going through them once more, she sighed and turned again to the window.
She focused on the memory card. If it was in fact the killer’s, she could think of only one reason why the killer would have it: to take pictures of the victims. Tara and Warren now knew that there was time between when Sofia was taken and when she was buried. It was possible that the killer had lured his victims somewhere to kill them and document it with photos before finishing them off. The thought made Tara nauseous.
She turned to Warren. “You think the killer could be taking pictures of victims as a trophy?” She knew that it was common for serial killers to take some sort of trophy to remind them of the crime. Sometimes it was just to reminisce. Other times, it was to represent ownership over what they did, like an athlete holding on to a medal as an accomplishment.
Warren nodded. “I think so. We’ll know more once we find out what’s on it.”
He was right. They needed to know what was on it before they could jump to conclusive theories. She knew it was just as likely that the memory card could show images of the killer stalking the victims instead. Either way, the information was valuable. But all they could do now was wait.
Tara turned back to the window as her mind wandered. The name Mackenzie James still sat in the b
ack of her mind. She still didn’t quite know what to do with the information, and it pained her.
“You all right?” Warren interrupted her train of thought, and she immediately felt guilty for letting her mind wander from the case.
She hadn’t even realized how intently she was staring out the window until she heard Warren’s voice. She adjusted herself in her seat, sitting up straighter as she faced forward. “I’m fine,” she replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible, but her words hung heavy with her doubt.
Warren picked up on it. “You sure?” He glanced over at her before turning his eyes back to the road, and Tara was careful not to make eye contact. She knew she would give herself away. “I’ve noticed you haven’t had one of your…” He thought for a second on how to word it. “Moments,” he finally uttered. “Since the last case.”
Tara could feel her face redden. He was referring to the panic attacks she had experienced during her first and most recent case. Those moments had almost cost her career, and she had gone into this case with the fear that they would happen again. It was a sensitive subject. She was lucky they hadn’t reoccurred, but she also knew it was evidence that she had worked on herself, that she had gotten to the root of what troubled her. And that root she now knew linked to Mackenzie James.
“Not trying to pry,” Warren finally said when Tara didn’t respond. “It’s a good thing.” He smiled at her. “But I have noticed you’ve been a bit distracted at times.”
Warren’s words sidelined her. Had she seemed distracted? It hadn’t even occurred to her. But if Warren were saying it, she knew she must’ve. Maybe it was when he called this morning, when I seemed groggy from falling asleep on the couch? Or maybe when I was short with him about my visit to New York? Questions rolled around in her head until she realized she had been quiet for too long.
“How so?” She fished for clarification.