“Stop being such a jerk, Jankowski,” Nessa hissed, coming around the table to put a gloved hand on Iris’ shoulder. “You’re only human. Iris. No need to pretend this doesn’t get to you, too.”
Iris nodded, sniffling inside the face mask, glad she was hidden from Jankowski’s searching gaze.
“Sorry,” he muttered, shoulders slumping. “That came out all wrong. I wasn’t blaming you, Iris, I was just trying to…to understand what happened.”
“From the look of it, I’d say whoever killed Candace Newbury acted out in a blind rage, stabbing again and again without hesitation or mercy.”
Nessa gasped at the image conjured by Iris’ blunt words.
“The cause of death was undoubtedly multiple stab wounds to the chest. The knife penetrated the heart and lungs, causing massive hemorrhaging.”
Iris paused, looking over at Jankowski, her chin lifting defiantly.
“As for who did this, that’s obvious. A monster did this. A heartless monster without the slightest regard for human life.”
Jankowski blinked, then nodded slowly, a shine of admiration entering his eyes as her words sank in.
“That’s more like it,” Jankowski said, “Now tell us about Ruth.”
✽ ✽ ✽
It was more than an hour before Iris led Nessa and Jankowski into her office. She placed a file full of autopsy notes on the desk and motioned for the detectives to sit across from her.
The postmortem on Ruth Culvert had been brutal on them all, revealing in horrifying detail the injuries the young woman had suffered leading up to her violent death.
“I’ll be listing the official cause of death as homicide by hanging,” Iris said, her voice subdued. “The cut marks to her forehead were superficial, but the blunt force trauma to the back of her head likely immobilized her long enough for the perpetrator to affix the noose and push her over the side of the bridge. The fall resulted in a cervical fracture, causing traumatic spinal cord injury.”
Jankowski looked up.
“What about the gashes on her arms?” Jankowski asked.
“Defensive wounds. A knife similar in size to the knife that was used to kill Candace Newbury. But those wounds are superficial. It looks like Ruth fought back.”
She gave the detectives a grimly satisfied smile.
“Lucky for us she did. The skin under her fingernails can be processed for DNA.”
Nessa banged a small fist on the desk, causing both Iris and Jankowski to jump.
“Getting DNA results back will take ages. We can’t wait that long to find out who did this.”
Iris put up a placating hand.
“I take it you haven’t heard the big news from the crime lab yet?”
Nessa raised an eyebrow at Iris.
“What big news?”
“A private foundation donated one of those new rapid DNA machines to the police department. It was a huge surprise, because the cost for one of these machines is outrageous. Willow Bay could never afford to buy one with the city’s little budget.”
Jankowski stood and leaned forward, both hands on the desk, visibly excited by the news. Iris had to force herself to look away as the thin material of his shirt strained over his broad shoulders.
You’d think I’d never seen a man before in my life.
She tried to concentrate on what Jankowski was saying.
“What foundation made the donation?”
“It was supposed to be anonymous,” Iris said, dropping her eyes.
“What do you mean, supposed to be?” Nessa asked. “You know who it is?”
Iris knew she shouldn’t tell anyone what she’d inadvertently discovered. If the anonymous donor knew they’d been outed, they might decide not to make further donations. But if you couldn’t tell the police a secret, who could you tell?
“A friend of mine works for the company that manufactures the machines. When she saw one had been shipped to Willow Bay she called me up to congratulate me. Not many small towns are so lucky. During the conversation she sort of let it slip out that a company called Giant Leap Data had paid for the machine.”
Nessa looked confused.
“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”
Jankowski pulled himself to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head and smiled.
“I should have known it would be her.”
Nessa looked even more confused.
“Her who?”
Jankowski grinned at his partner.
“I thought you were a detective. So why don’t you know anything about the people living in this town?”
Nessa rolled her eyes and turned back to Iris.
“So, who’s behind this Giant Leap Data? Someone I know?”
Iris found herself grinning as broadly as Jankowski.
“I’d say so, and someone who knows just how badly we could have used the machine in the past few years.”
Iris waited another minute, then decided Nessa wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.
“Eden Winthrop co-founded the company. She still owns a considerable number of shares.”
Maddie Simpson popped her head into the room before Nessa could react.
“Wesley Knox was looking for you. He says he needs some unscheduled time off.” Maddie sniffed with disapproval. “I told him that was against policy, but he didn’t listen.”
“Thank you, Maddie. I’ll take care of it.”
Once Maddie had withdrawn from the room, Iris turned back to Nessa and Jankowski, her smile gone, her thoughts shifting to Wesley. She couldn’t let them go without pleading his case.
“You can’t really think Wesley had anything to do with what happened to the women in that room, can you?”
A guarded look passed over Jankowski’s face.
"Wesley knew Candace Newbury. He was also one of the few people who knew that Ruth had witnessed her homicide, and that Ruth was staying at Mercy Harbor. I’d say we have no choice but to consider him a person of interest."
Iris stared at Jankowski in dismay, worried for the young forensic technician, but unable to think of anything else to say that would convince the detectives that Wesley could never hurt anyone. She’d have to have faith that the truth would come out in due time.
It’s not my place to say more. The evidence will have to speak for itself.
Nessa stood, motioning for Jankowski to follow her.
“We’ll talk to Wesley again as soon as we can. With any luck we can quickly eliminate him and move on to real suspects.”
But Iris didn’t like the way Jankowski wouldn’t meet her eyes, and her thoughts remained on the brooding detective long after he’d left her office.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The interrogation room seemed too small to contain the two big men that sat across from each other at the battered, wooden table. Nessa stood, back against the wall, observing them with mounting frustration. She knew how badly Jankowski wanted to find whoever had killed Ruth Culvert and Candace Newbury, but he was clearly wasting his time with Wesley Knox.
“Tell me again how you knew Candace Newbury?”
Wesley ran a shaky hand through his thatch of brown hair.
“She was a few years behind me at Willow Bay High. We went out a few times, but it was nothing serious.”
Not bothering to hide his skeptical smirk, Jankowski made a note on the pad in front of him, then looked back at Wesley.
“And you say you haven’t seen her for years?”
Wesley nodded.
“Her parents split, and she went to live with her grandfather. At least that’s what she told me. Said he owned some kind of restaurant out in the country.”
Watching him rub a fist over one eye, the way Cole and Cooper did when they were upset and trying not to cry, Nessa decided it was time to move the interview along. They needed to talk to Alma and find out if she had been able to find any valuable evidence at the crime scene. Harassing this traumatized young man was
getting them nowhere.
“Wesley, did you tell anyone that Ruth Culvert had gone to Eden Winthrop for help?” Nessa asked softly.
Wesley shook his head, his eyes confused.
“Who would I tell? I was too upset about Candy to talk to anyone, anyway. I’ve been at home the whole time, I swear.”
“We’re just trying to figure what happened,” Nessa said. “We’ve got two dead girls that knew each other, and one of them knew you.”
Wesley dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking. Jankowski opened his mouth to say something, but Nessa threw him a warning look.
“Candy knew lots of people,” Wesley said, his words muffled by his hands. “She was real friendly…maybe a little too friendly…but she had a good heart.”
Nessa remained quiet, waiting to see what else he would say, knowing more information could often be obtained by silence than through aggressive questioning.
Wesley raised bloodshot eyes to Nessa, his face twisting with the effort to keep his composure.
“Who could have done this to her, Detective Ainsley? It just doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone want to kill Candy?”
Nessa met Jankowski’s eyes over Wesley’s head. She didn’t know why someone had decided to kill the innocent young woman, but what she did know was that the killer hadn’t been Wesley Knox.
✽ ✽ ✽
Nessa waited for Jankowski to walk Wesley out and return to their shared office. She’s felt a spark of pity for him when she saw the defeated look on his face.
“At least we can cross him off the list and move on,” Nessa said, standing up and gathering her files and notepad. “Let’s go into the briefing room and map out what we’ve got so far.”
“Well, that shouldn’t take long,” Jankowski muttered.
Nessa decided to ignore his pessimism.
“And I’ve asked Alma to join us as soon as she’s done with her initial analysis-”
She stopped short at the door to the briefing room when she saw Detectives Ingram and Ortiz. Ingram was standing by the whiteboard pontificating to his partner.
“…the case that's gonna make my career. Probably will be a record for closing a felony case."
Clearing her throat loudly, Nessa stepped into the room, smiling at Ortiz before turning to Ingram with a puzzled frown.
“Did you forget to check the schedule again, Ingram? Cause I’ve reserved this room for the rest of the day.”
A scowl passed over Ingram’s pinched face, but he nodded and gestured to Ortiz.
“I think we’re done here anyway, aren’t we, Ortiz?”
Ingram’s handsome partner nodded agreeably and stood up.
“Yeah, we need to grab some lunch before the hearing anyway.”
His comment intrigued Nessa, who turned to look at the words they’d left scrawled on the whiteboard.
“You guys are in court today? On what case?”
Straightening his tie with an exaggerated flourish, Ingram nodded and grinned, revealing an uneven row of small, yellowish teeth.
“We’re planning to sit in on Oscar Hernandez’s bail hearing. I want to see the bastard’s face when he finds out he’s not going anywhere until the trial.”
The malicious gleam in his small, pale eyes unnerved Nessa, and she turned away in distaste.
So much for an impartial investigation of the case.
She slid her gaze to Jankowski, wondering if Ingram’s behavior toward Oscar Hernandez had reminded him of his own misguided pursuit of Wesley. Was he bothered by Ingram’s overly zealous pursuit of a man that had yet to be proven guilty of anything other than knowing the victim?
But Jankowski wasn’t paying attention. He seemed distracted, ignoring the other two detectives as they exited the briefing room.
Moving to the whiteboard, Nessa erased the notes Ingram had written on Oscar Hernandez. She taped a photo of Candace Newbury to the top of the board, then added a photo of Ruth Culvert next to it. The pictures had been taken during the autopsies. Nessa would have preferred to use something less morbid, but they were the only pictures she had at the moment.
“So, what do we know about the victims?” Nessa asked, raising her voice to get Jankowski’s attention.
“We can’t let that little weasel become the new chief,” Jankowski said, suddenly snapping back to life.
“What little weasel?” Alma Garcia asked from the door.
Willow Bay’s senior crime scene technician stepped into the room carrying a slim, black briefcase. She crossed to the long table that dissected the room and began unloading files.
“Who’s trying to become the next chief?”
Alma’s smooth, round cheeks lifted in a smile when she saw Nessa hesitate and look to Jankowski for help.
“Okay, I’ll pretend I never heard anything.”
“Thanks, Alma,” Nessa said, her face pink. “I mean, for meeting us here. We were just about to get started laying out the information collected so far. We’re eager to include your findings on the evidence.”
Picking up a marker, Jankowski joined Nessa in front of the white board and added the victim’s names under their photos.
“Okay, so what do we know about Candace Newbury?”
Nessa and Alma started to speak at the same time.
“You go ahead, Alma.”
Alma nodded and opened a file, taking out photographs of the clothes Candace had been wearing.
“The victim was wearing homemade clothes from the look of it. No tags or labels. Her dress appears to have been stitched by hand.”
She laid a photo of the shredded, bloody garment on the table.
“Her shoes were also made by hand, and I’d say whoever made them has considerable skill. The name Putnam has been etched on the insole of the shoe.”
Alma produced another photo, this one a close-up of the inside of a leather shoe. The leather was stained, but the word Putnam was clearly visible.
Nessa nodded, her mind churning.
“If this shoemaker sells his handmade shoes somewhere locally, or online, maybe we can find out where Candace got them.”
Jankowski nodded. His sullen expression turned to interest as he added the information about the shoes and clothes onto the board, then watched Alma reach for another photo.
“I’ve also cast several sets of footprints at the Candace Newbury scene. My initial analysis is that there were at least four people at the gas station that night. But get this. They were all wearing the same type of shoes.”
Alma stared at them with shining eyes.
“And the ground outside Ruth’s window had three sets of footprints.”
“Let me guess,” Jankowski muttered. “They were wearing the same shoes, too?”
Alma nodded, her excitement obvious.
“One of the prints can be matched back to Ruth, but the other two sets of prints must belong to whoever took Ruth.”
Nessa shook her head, wanting to make sure she understood what Alma was saying.
“Are you telling us there are two perpetrators?”
Alma lifted a finger, motioning for Nessa to hold her question. She laid a photo of a long black hair on the table.
“We also found a hair on the dress Candace was wearing. It was caught in one of the punctures made by the knife, and it doesn’t belong to the victim.”
Before the wide-eyed detectives could ask any questions, Alma pulled out a printed report, and laid it on the table next to the photo.
“Thanks to the early Christmas present Santa delivered, I was able to run the DNA on the hair right away. I have some of the results here.”
She inhaled deeply.
“The only thing I can really tell you at this point is that the hair belongs to a woman. To find out who this woman is, we’d have to have a suspect to compare them with or get a lucky hit in CODIS.”
Jankowski looked stunned.
“A woman? You think a woman killed Candace Newbury?”
“I think the ha
ir tells us a woman was likely at the scene,” Alma clarified. “And the footprints indicate there was more than one perpetrator at both scenes.”
A horrible certainty settled in Nessa’s mind.
“There are two killers,” she said, her voice firm. “A man and a woman.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Jankowski snapped.
Nessa regarded his tense face. He seemed overwhelmed by the flood of information that Alma had presented.
Or is he just refusing to believe a woman could be involved?
She turned back to Alma.
“How long before you can get results back on the DNA from CODIS?” Nessa asked. “How long until we know who this woman is?”
Alma shrugged, but she sounded optimistic.
“Could be within twenty-four hours if we get a full match.”
“Good,” Nessa said, turning back to the board and writing a string of notes under Candace’s name. “Is there anything else?”
Alma raised her eyebrows and held up a fingerprint card.
“I’m still working on the bloody fingerprints we lifted from the door at the gas station. I hope to run those through the database as well by end of the day.”
Nessa’s felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and she looked down to see a text message from Iris.
Call me now. It’s urgent.
Stepping to the back of the room, Nessa tapped in a number and lifted the phone to her ear. Iris answered on the first ring.
“What is it, Iris? What’s happened?”
The medical examiner sounded rattled.
“I found something when I went back to finish the autopsy on Candace Newbury.”
Nessa hesitated, her heart beginning to thump faster.
“She was pregnant,” Iris said, her voice wavering on the words. “The poor girl was about two months along.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The water whipped past Barker’s face with icy fury as the flat-bottomed airboat sped across the choppy water of the lake at fifty miles an hour. A bright orange flag waved erratically from the flagpole over Barker’s head, ending any hope he’d had of sneaking up on the commune without being seen.
“Do we really need the flag?” he yelled toward the man operating the stick at the back of the boat.
Catch the Girl Page 16