by Lolli Powell
Madeline Ross was a tall willowy brunette with a medical degree who had been the coroner’s assistant for several years. Jen knew her from work, and they were both members of the Professional Women’s Association. Although they weren’t close friends, Jen had learned from her that she had worked as a hospitalist for three years before deciding she preferred dead patients to live ones. When Jen introduced Will, she saw Madeline direct an appreciative look Will’s way, and she felt a disturbing pang of possessiveness. She quickly subjected it to an unmerciful death.
The next hour and a half moved slowly while the coroner and his people, assisted by Pat, examined every corner of the bedroom. The detectives and the federal agents made a quick and fruitless initial canvas of the neighborhood to see if anyone had seen or heard anything. Then they gathered on the small front porch and waited by the open front door, listening to the murmur of voices and the sound of the vacuum coming from the direction of the bedroom.
Finally, a few minutes after noon, Follett came to the door and motioned to them.
“I’m going to start with the body now,” he said. “I’d prefer you stay out of the room, but you can watch from the hall, if you like.”
As Jen, Al, Lonnie, and the two federal agents crowded around the bedroom door, Jen wished she were any place other than where she was. The main reason was the dead woman. Another was Will Anderson.
With so many people crowded into such a small space, she was pressed against the door frame. Will was next to her, his side lightly touching hers, his arm propped against the wall for stability. In effect, she was enclosed in the crook of his arm, and there was nothing she could do about it without making a scene.
Follett carefully pulled back the blood-soaked sheet that covered the body from shoulders to calves, and Jen forgot about the man next to her. There was a sudden intake of breath from everyone except the coroner and his people. The dead woman’s back was covered with ugly lacerations and purple and red bruises. They had been expecting evidence of the same kind of beating as the other victims had experienced, but that expectation had not prepared them for the shock of it.
The defenseless woman on the bed was naked. Jen suddenly wanted to shout at Follett to put the sheet back, that it wasn’t right for them to violate Victoria this way, that she’d already been violated enough. But she kept silent.
She glanced sideways at Will. He was staring at the nude form on the bed, his eyes filled with such sadness that she felt tears sting at the backs of her own. She looked away quickly, scolding herself mentally for her lack of professional detachment. Then again, she would have been more worried about herself if she had been able to look at such an awful sight without feeling the way she did.
Follett removed the satin ribbon, dropping it carefully into a paper evidence bag held by Madeline. He then removed the pillowcase and placed it in a separate bag. He nodded to Adams, who had moved to the opposite side of the bed, and the two of them turned the body over, Madeline carefully holding the head in place.
Victoria Kaufman’s eyes were shut, and Jen was glad of that. But the terror and bewilderment were still there, etched in the frozen muscles. Her lips were cut and swollen, and an ugly purple bruise covered the lower left side of her face. Her neck had been slashed from one side to the other, slashed deeply.
The front of the body was also badly bruised. Except for the bruised areas, the body was almost chalk white, the bruises having formed before death while there was still blood to drain from the broken capillaries. The effect was a garish contrast of colors, a blend of raw reds and ugly purples on pristine white. She could be a painting, Jen reflected, drawn from the depths of a surrealist’s nightmare.
Follett cleared his throat.
“I’d say she bled to death, which I’m sure you’ve figured out for yourself. There may be internal injuries as well.”
He grasped the dead woman’s jaw and attempted to move it. It was rigid. He lifted an arm, which moved with only minimal resistance, and let it go. It flopped to the bed. Follett nodded and grunted to himself.
“I’d say she’s been dead four to six hours since rigor is full-blown in the jaw, but not in the larger muscles. She probably died around dawn this morning. We’ll get body and room temperatures for verification.”
He nodded to Madeline who began rummaging in a black equipment case for the thermometer they would use to take a rectal temperature. Since a body normally lost one to two degrees an hour, depending on external conditions, they would be able to further narrow down the time of death. But Jen knew that the only way to pinpoint the time to the exact minute was to witness it. The best the coroner could do was a time range.
“Judging from the lack of bruising around the thighs,” Follett continued, “I would guess that she was not sexually assaulted. But, of course, I can’t say for certain till I do the autopsy.”
“Soon, I hope?” Lonnie said.
“This afternoon. You’ll have the report on your desk first thing in the morning. I’ll call you with a verbal when I’m done, unless one of your detectives would like to observe.”
“Someone will be there.”
Follett nodded. The coroner was crisp and businesslike. With his gray hair and regal bearing, he could have been an academic discussing some obscure text or scientific theory rather than the horrific murder of a young woman. Jen envied him his detachment.
The detectives returned to the living room while the coroner and his people completed their examination and evidence collection. Then Pat and Al assisted in placing Victoria Kaufmann into a body bag and transferring it to the van belonging to the coroner’s office.
A small crowd of neighbors had gathered in the yards, and the first reporters had shown up. They had been unable to get past Bill and Nola, but as the cot moved from the house to the waiting van, they flashed pictures of the body bag covered with a sheet. Several tried to get a statement from Dr. Follett, but he told them in a reasonably polite way not to bother him, and the coroner’s van drove off.
Lonnie spoke briefly with the reporters, advising them that Chief Buchan would make a statement later in the day or early the next morning. Jen smiled at her sergeant’s tact. He knew not to steal the chief’s thunder.
O’Neill packed his gear, and Nola and Bill locked the house. No unauthorized persons would be permitted on the premises until the detectives and the coroner were certain there was nothing more to be found. Nola and Bill would stand watch until off-duty officers could be called in on overtime to relieve them.
As they walked to their cars, Jen saw Hank’s cruiser turn onto the street. Lonnie turned to her.
“I’m going to notify her parents. Hank’s going with me, so I’ll ride with him in his cruiser.”
“I didn’t even think to ask,” Jen said, ashamed of herself. “How much family did she have?”
“Mother and father. Live in the county, out on Cooper Road. Hank located their address before we got here. According to a neighbor, the ex-husband, Larry Kaufmann, is a welder and works second shift at Hightower Safe in Jefferson. Lives in Jefferson, too. The neighbor says Kaufmann and the victim got divorced because he was playing around with some nurse and got her pregnant.”
He fiddled in his shirt pocket for a moment, then handed Jen a piece of paper.
“Hawkins found his address on the divorce papers in a drawer in the kitchen. The neighbor says he and the nurse got married just as soon as the divorce was final. I want you and Al to run up there and notify him before he goes to work. Pump him a little, too, find out where he was last night. We need to cover the bases, although I doubt that he’s our man.”
“I’d like to go along, if you don’t mind,” Will said.
“No problem.” Lonnie thought for a second and then began to smile. Something told Jen she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“I tell you what, why don’t you run on up to Jefferson with Jen, and Al can head on down to the coroner’s with Don here and observe the autopsy. Might be
a good idea to split you two fellows up anyway, team you up with our people so you can cover more ground.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Jen sputtered. “I’m sure Agent Anderson has things he’d rather do than death notifications.”
“On the contrary,” Will said. “I think your sergeant has the right idea pairing us up.”
Will and Lonnie were grinning at one another in male understanding. One day, Jen thought, I will kill my boss. It will make the national news, and people will theorize that the stresses of police work caused me to snap and do such a horrible thing. They’ll never guess the real cause.
She vowed to get Lonnie aside before the day was over and have a talk with him—and maybe save his life and keep herself out of prison.
“You take our car, Will.” Don handed the keys to him. “I’ll go with Al.”
Hawkins did not seem to pick up on what was going on any more than Al did. It was her misfortune that Lonnie had been looking at Will that morning in the conference room. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the whole department was aware of the sparks between her and the agent. Lonnie couldn’t claim secret-keeping as one of his strong points, and even Jamie, who was one of her best friends, couldn’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut.
Well, let them talk and tease all they want, she thought. There’s not going to be any truth to the rumors because attraction was where it would stop.
She’d see to that.
CHAPTER 6
The man who used to be Arthur Kelty watched the unmarked car drive away from the site of his latest kill, his senses reeling, his hands shaking. He had assumed his father’s murderer was still in Minneapolis. Instead, he was here, right under his nose. Had Dillon brought him here? He knew she was smart, but could she have discovered his identity so quickly?
He had a twinge of doubt. Maybe he was mistaken. It had been a long time, after all, but he knew this man wasn’t on the city’s department. He’d made it his mission to know everyone employed by the police department, even before he’d started hunting again. Father had taught him that—scout possible hunting grounds long before you make any move. It wasn’t enough to just make the kill. That was as easy as it was rewarding. The hard part was getting away with it and living to hunt another day.
He closed his eyes, drawing the face of the man responsible for his father’s death to the forefront of his memory. He would never forget that face, no matter how many years passed. In his mind, he superimposed the face of the man he’d seen with Dillon on the one from long ago. It was him.
There could be only one reason the murderer was here. He was looking for Artie. He wanted to put him away to die just like he had Father.
He took a deep breath, feeling the surge of bitterness he always felt when he thought of the man. The bitterness sickened him, made his stomach churn and his head hurt. There was only one way to eliminate that bitterness. He had to eliminate the cause.
CHAPTER 7
Will glanced over at the green-eyed beauty in the passenger seat of the Bureau’s sedan. She looked out the side window, the windshield, at her lap—anywhere but at him. He smiled. He’d been around enough to know when a woman was attracted to him, and this one was, but she was fighting the feeling. There was no doubt about that. Worse, he suspected that Jen Dillon was strong enough to win the battle. That was something he didn’t want to happen.
He’d been unprepared for his reaction that morning when he’d looked up and straight into her eyes. If he had ever felt such desire for a woman at first glance, he didn’t remember it. For that matter, he didn’t remember ever feeling such desire, period!
It had caused him to act like a predatory male, something that was not the norm for him. He knew he’d already frightened her a little with his innuendos and single-minded pursuit, but for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Even when he’d managed to force his words into some semblance of civility, he knew his expression was one of naked lust, and he knew she recognized it.
He’d also spent enough time as a city cop to know that others had noticed his interest. The pretty blonde sitting next to Jen that morning had picked up on it right away, and Jen’s sergeant was already aiding and abetting him in his pursuit. It wouldn’t be long before Jen would be the brunt of brutal teasing, and that would likely strengthen her resolve to resist him.
“Have you been with the department long?” He tried to make his voice sound normal.
“Nearly ten years,” she said, her tone clipped.
He sighed. He wanted to find out everything he could about this woman, but he could see she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Still, interrogation had always been one of his stronger skills.
“And as a detective?”
“Three.”
“You enjoy it?”
“I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
Jen bit her lip. Why couldn’t she just act cool and at least give the impression that this man didn’t bother her? No, instead she had to act like some uptight female who couldn’t handle one of the big boys. It wasn’t like her.
“Yes, I do enjoy it,” she amended in a more civil tone, still looking straight ahead. “I enjoyed patrol, too, but the schedule is better in detectives. Not as much night work.”
Uh-oh, Will thought. One of the main reasons most people hated night work was a family. He hadn’t seen a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t a husband or significant other. But her sergeant seemed to be encouraging his interest, and surely he wouldn’t do that if she were married or in a serious relationship. Then again, he’d known more than one cop who simply liked to stir up trouble.
“You’re not a night person then?” he said, dreading what she was going to say.
“Oh, I don’t mind it personally. It’s just difficult with a child.”
His heart sank. Every child had a daddy, and if she was still with her “baby daddy”—well, as much as he desired her, he would have to back off. He’d never been the type of man who played that game. He glanced over at her again. If she is still with her kid’s dad, he thought, this will be the biggest test of my values I’ve ever faced.
“You have a child?”
“A son. He’s thirteen.” Her pride in her son was evident in her voice. “His name is Brandon.”
He gripped the steering wheel tightly. After a few moments he asked the question he dreaded hearing answered.
“Are you married then?”
Jen had known that was coming. Worse, she wondered the same about him. She hadn’t seen a ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married or involved with someone. Of course, she reminded herself, it didn’t make any difference whether he was available or not. She wasn’t getting involved with this man. In fact, a wife would make it easier to resist his all too plentiful charms.
“I’m widowed,” she said finally.
He was unable to suppress a sigh of relief and then immediately felt like a heel. How could he be glad that a man had died?
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it in more ways than one. “That’s rough. Has it been long?”
“Ten years,” she said. “He was an officer with this department and died when he wrecked his cruiser chasing a man who had just robbed a convenience store and pistol-whipped the clerk.”
He thought for a moment.
“You joined the department after that?”
He marveled at her courage, Most police wives hated what their husbands did. One of the many reasons was that a police wife feared for her husband’s safety. Most would run as far away from law enforcement as they could if the same thing happened to them as had happened to Jen.
“I had always wanted to be a cop.” She looked at him for the first time since they’d got in the car. “I got talked out of it, first by my parents, later by Jake. He was already on the department when I met him. I think that was his biggest attraction for me, the fact that he did what I wanted to do. I got to live vicariously through him.”
She
smiled. Will felt his heart do a flip-flop.
“After a while, it wasn’t enough.”
“That caused problems?”
She laughed. It was a soft, husky sound that ignited a fire within him. He wondered if she laughed like that in bed, if he could make her feel so good that she would laugh that way for him.
“Did it ever! I started pushing to join the department—or any department, for that matter—about two years after Brandon was born. Jake had other ideas. He hadn’t thought police work suitable for me before, and he sure didn’t think so after I became a mother. There were a lot of fights the year before he died.”
The last was said softly and sadly. As they approached the Jefferson city limits, he glanced over at her again. She was looking down at her hands, a sad smile on her face.
“I felt guilty about that for a long time. It took about six months of counseling before I could accept that what I wanted to do for a living was valid, and I didn’t have to apologize or feel guilty for it.”
She paused, wondering why she was confiding so much in this man. She looked at his strong, handsome profile, wondering if maybe she were testing him to see how he reacted. Maybe he was one of those macho types who didn’t believe a badge was the proper accessory for a woman. But whether he was or wasn’t, why should she care?
“It also helped me accept that our fights didn’t kill him,” she continued. “Of course, I knew that logically, but it’s amazing how some totally illogical part of your mind can make you think that.”
“Children often feel that way when a parent or sibling dies. We adults con ourselves into believing we’re smarter than that.”
“That’s pretty much what my therapist said.”
“Just think of the money you could have saved,” he said, chuckling, “if you’d known me back then.”
For a second their eyes met, then he focused his attention back on the busy highway. Jen’s breath quickened. She had no doubt in her mind that had she known him immediately after Jake’s death, she would have felt even guiltier. Because had she known him, she suspected she could have forgotten that Jake ever existed.
