It obviously hadn’t escaped Bethany’s notice, even in the horror of the bloodshed, that her friend had been mutilated. “Did you touch her, or anything in the house?”
“No.” She sniffled.
“How long were you two friends?” Trent asked.
“A few years, but we got close fast. Had a lot in common.” She added the last bit with a shrug.
“It’s awesome when you find someone like that. What similar interests did you share?” Amanda wanted to set Bethany at ease as much as possible, given the circumstances, so she’d continue to open up.
“We’re both in our forties, single, never married. We like to do yoga and eat healthy. We’re also members of a singing group out of Washington.” Bethany rattled off everything in present tense, which was completely normal in the immediate aftermath of loss—even for some time after.
“Sounds like a great friendship.” Amanda offered a gentle smile. “Was she dating anyone?”
“Ah, no. You get to be our age, and the dating pool’s smaller than a kiddie pool. They’re either married and cheating scum, pot-bellied, or liars. Sometimes all three. Most have so much baggage, they’d need to pay extra to travel by plane.”
Hearing Bethany’s bleak view of dating was depressing, possibly true. Amanda hadn’t really given it much of a shot. One-night stands were much simpler. No names, no questions, no emotional connection. But as they added up, they took a toll.
“What about family?” Trent interjected. “Does she have any in the area?”
Bethany gave a small bob of her head. “Her sister lives in town. Her dad? No one knows where he is. He ran off when she was a girl. The mom died of a drug overdose several years ago. She never was much of a mom.”
“Doesn’t sound like it…” Amanda recalled how Shannon had given the impression she could relate to the squatters at 532. Had Shannon ever taken to the streets? She’d ask but wasn’t sure if it would be relevant to the case. Then again… Her eyes widened, considering. What if Fox was somehow linked to sex trafficking like they knew Jane Doe had been? Maybe even a victim at one time who had escaped. If Fox was somehow wrapped up in the ugly mess, that could be another thing linking her murder to Jane Doe’s. But she talked herself down. She was getting ahead of herself.
“We’ll need to get her sister’s information,” she said to Bethany.
“Sure.” She fumbled in one of her pants pockets and took out her phone.
Amanda happened to look up and see Malone coming toward her. “You got this?” she said to Trent, and he nodded.
Amanda stepped away, putting about ten feet between herself and Bethany and Trent. “What is it?”
“I just spoke with the officer posted outside five thirty-two,” Malone said. “He’s been there since midnight. Didn’t see anything all night. I know we don’t have TOD yet, though I’d expect sometime between then and now.”
“Huh. I would think he’d have seen something that might help us.” If this was the same killer back a second time, he might as well have been the invisible man. “The officer was awake, though? Eyes open?” She knew from personal experience just how boring and mind-numbing surveillance could be.
“I sure hope so.”
“But you’re not sure?”
Malone angled his head and pressed his lips. “It’s entirely possible he saw nothing.”
“He confirmed that he hadn’t left his post?”
Malone clenched his jaw. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? If we can’t take the word of one of our own, then we might as well give up now.”
She realized she might be coming across just as Malone had accused, but she was feeling frustrated. Maybe taking it out on the faceless officer. Then again, if a badge told Malone he saw nothing, then Malone would believe him. His brothers in blue had to give Malone strong reason not to trust them.
Malone snapped his fingers. “I can see it on your face, Steele. But let it go.”
When he pulled out her surname, it was hard to feel like she had much choice but to submit.
“So how did it go with—” He nudged his head toward Bethany.
“She’s the vic’s best friend. No leads on who had a beef with Shannon, but Trent’s getting info on the next of kin now.”
“I can take care of delivering the notification.”
“Actually, I’d prefer to do it,” she said. “We might get a lead on someone in Fox’s circle. As you said to Trent we need to slow down, and that means considering all the angles on this case. It appears on the surface like Jane Doe’s killer might have motive, but what’s to say someone with a vendetta against Shannon didn’t take advantage of that? Her name, after all, was in the paper.”
Malone seemed to consider her words, then grinned and wagged his finger. “See, that’s why the LT can’t knock you down, Amanda. You’re an amazing cop. Just keep that up.” Malone’s gaze went beyond her. “And speaking of good cops.” He waved someone over. She turned and saw a male PWCPD officer headed their way.
“This is Officer Tucker,” Malone said once he got to them. “This is Detective Amanda Steele.”
Trent joined them and held up his notepad to Amanda, likely to communicate he had the sister’s information.
“And Detective Trent Stenson.” Malone swept an arm toward Trent. “Officer Tucker here found where the killer gained entry to the residence. You go ahead, Tucker.”
Tucker was in his early twenties but, based on the shining pride in Malone’s eyes, held a lot of promise. He had a willow-reed frame and brown hair. He smiled, or rather twitched, uncomfortably as Amanda looked at him. “It appears like he may have accessed the property through a window in the back. It’s shut, but the screen was cut. There’s also a sliding patio door back there. It was unlocked.”
Amanda glanced at Malone, then Trent. “Then why enter through the window? Surely he would have tried the door first.”
“I’m thinking that’s likely the way he left, ma’am,” Tucker said. “It would have been much easier than crawling back out the window.”
“I agree. Good observations. Make sure to pass this information along to the CSIs. They should dust the windowsill for prints. Also, the inside handle on the patio door.” She offered a smile at the rookie, though she wasn’t entirely sure what had Malone so enraptured with him. Now wasn’t the time to ask, but she was interested in popping into the backyard. While she and Trent looked around, it would also give the CSIs and ME more time to work.
She walked to the rear of Shannon’s house. Trent came with her, but Malone didn’t.
Like at 532, there was a gate at the end of the driveway. She went through, not even knowing exactly what she was looking for. But she was interested in seeing where Shannon’s killer had gained entry with her own eyes.
She noted the overgrown bushes, large trees, and the relative seclusion. Windows in the houses butting against Fox’s property would have offered an exceptional line of sight, though. Amanda pointed them out to Trent. “Someone might have seen something.” She’d make sure that canvassing officers visited the residents. Depending on Shannon’s time of death, most people likely would have been sleeping, but they still needed to ask. “If we’re looking at the same killer,” she added, “his killing Fox was a brazen move.” She hated that her mind was going to the dark place where serial killers lurked. But even if the same person was behind the murders, didn’t a serial killer by definition have more than two victims? She really didn’t want to think about that.
“That’s for sure. Striking twice in two days, and on the same street? I’d definitely say he wanted to make a statement.”
“The mutilation tells us that, no matter who killed her. But what are you thinking?” she asked.
“Pretty much the same. And, if it’s the same killer, he’s willing to take out anyone who interferes with his plans.”
The picture of a true psychopath… “Okay, well, if it is him,” she began, “let’s hope his impulsiveness caused him to screw up
and leave us evidence we can work with.”
“We can hope. Also, if it is the same guy—just continue to hear me out—I don’t think we’re looking for someone who wants to hide their actions. Rather, he wants to draw attention to them. Otherwise, why kill Jane Doe in an abandoned house and proceed to set it on fire? If he just wanted to dispose of the body, why not burn it a field? I’d say he wants his fifteen minutes of fame.”
She regarded him, smirking. “You a profiler now?”
“I worked a case involving a serial killer before.”
“Yes. One.” She arched her brows. She’d found out all about Trent’s fifteen minutes of fame years ago at a barbecue that Becky had held at her house. He’d helped the FBI track down a serial rapist and murderer and almost got a one-way ticket to the white light.
“Just trust me. The last thing I want is for some serial killer to be on the loose.”
“I’m with you there. Let’s just explore it being an isolated incident before we get carried away.” The message from the note at the grave screamed at her, despite her words, and made her feel hypocritical. Whether the sender was Fox’s killer or not, just the fact that he said she was on the same team as him made her determined to prove him wrong. She should probably tell Trent about it, but then he might lose all objectivity.
“True enough, and I hope we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Trent hopped up on a narrow deck that ran along the backside of the house and went toward a window with a pile of screen on the boards beneath it. “The entry point Officer Tucker mentioned.”
She nodded. “Let’s go back upstairs and see if the ME and CSIs have anything to tell us.” She’d seen enough, and it was time to get some answers.
Eighteen
Amanda and Trent headed back inside Shannon’s house and passed the CSIs, who were leaving. She heard Officer Tucker calling to the investigators just as the front door closed behind them. Upstairs, they found Paula Jeffery crouched near the body, her booty-covered shoes straddling the pool of blood.
Jeffery pressed a hand to the side of Shannon’s neck, her index finger and thumb spreading out and indicating the space between them. “There’s a prick in her skin. It’s possible she was pierced with a needle.”
“She was drugged,” Amanda concluded. “You’ll have a full tox panel run on her?”
“You can count on it.”
“Cause of death?” Amanda crossed her arms so tight, she had to release a little to expand her chest.
Jeffery didn’t respond.
All righty then…
Amanda took in all the blood on Shannon’s robe and pooled on the floor near her. “Was she alive when her tongue was severed?”
Jeffery kept her gaze on the body as she spoke. “She had a heartbeat, yes. As for how much she was ‘with it,’ though, would depend on the drug in her system.”
“Our killer may have shown some mercy. That’s if he used a type of paralytic,” Trent reasoned.
Jeffery glanced over her shoulder. “If.”
“Did she bleed out?” Trent asked, and Amanda winced at him. He had every right to ask whatever question he liked, but Jeffery didn’t seem to be in the mood to answer many.
“You mean did she die due to exsanguination?” Jeffery paused, as if to let the technical term sink in and prove herself intellectually superior. “I wouldn’t think so, given the volume of blood loss I’m seeing, but it’s too early to conclude.” She proceeded to open the robe, and Amanda held her breath as she let her gaze go over the woman’s chest.
No tattoo.
A relief, but it still didn’t excuse Doe’s killer from committing this murder. Even the different MOs should steer her suspicions in another direction, but her instinct was screaming they were looking at the same man.
Jeffery paused movement, her eyes on Shannon’s torso. “Umm.”
Now that Amanda could see the wound, she could tell it had been caused by a stabbing, not a shooting. She waited for Jeffery to elaborate on her Umm.
“Stab to her abdomen, and it appears to be rather deep, but it must have avoided the arteries in the region, or we’d be looking at more blood.”
Rather deep… Amanda contemplated the meaning behind that. Perhaps whoever killed Shannon had been driven by rage, but then that didn’t explain the restraint. Why just one stabbing? Why not several?
Amanda studied Shannon, searching her mind for similarities between the Jane Doe and Shannon Fox murders. After all, if they were looking at a serial killer, there would likely be something that would irrefutably link the two murders. Something beyond the coincidental. Something beyond a gut feeling. The murder methods had been different, and there was no obvious attempt to set a fire at Fox’s house. Jeffery said that Shannon had been drugged. Did that apply to Jane Doe too? Or was their killer not only impulsive but also versatile? The questions were plentiful, the answers not so much. And she had something else she needed to ask. “Could you estimate TOD?”
“Her body has started into rigor…” Jeffery got up, rummaged in her kit, and pulled out a thermometer, which she pierced into Shannon’s liver. A few seconds later, she noted something in a small book, looked at Trent. “What’s the temperature in the house?”
Trent glanced at Amanda as if looking for permission to go check. Amanda nodded her head. He left the room and came back seconds later.
“It’s seventy-two degrees,” he told Jeffery.
She tapped the tip of her pen into the air, and her mouth moved as she made some calculations. “I’d say the victim died anywhere between four and six this morning.”
Basically the same hours estimated for Jane Doe. It still would have been dark, but it wasn’t an absolutely ungodly hour like two or three. Assuming Shannon’s killer didn’t spend hours with her, someone in the neighborhood might have been up and seen something, especially if she was killed closer to six. By then, people would be waking up to get ready for work.
Jeffery put her items aside, then opened Shannon’s hand, which had been closed, resting on her thigh. “Well, I found her tongue.”
“Oh.” Trent turned away.
Amanda wasn’t sure if she’d even heard the ME correctly, and she couldn’t make out what the mound of flesh was. “You found her tongue… in her hand?”
“That’s what I said.” Blunt, tactless, without patience.
Amanda gave her a hard stare and headed for the door. She’d had enough of Ego ME. “Keep me posted on when you’ll be conducting the autopsy.”
Jeffery grumbled something in Amanda’s wake, but Amanda just shook her head and went down the stairs and outside. She sensed Trent right behind her.
Malone was on the front step. “Get any answers?”
“Not much,” Amanda said. “Jeffery put TOD between four and six this morning. She won’t conclude cause of death until she has the body on a slab, but there was a needle mark in Shannon’s neck.”
“The same for Doe?”
Amanda shook her head. “No injection sites that Rideout found, but he was having a tox panel run on her. She could have consumed a drug in her food or drink.”
“If Doe was drugged, that could be something else that connects the two murders.” Malone rubbed the top of his head. “Do you think the same guy is behind both?”
“Hey, you said to slow down with assumptions. In that vein, we’re going to speak with Shannon’s sister and see if she knows of anyone who may have had a problem with Shannon. The friend didn’t.” Amanda glanced over the front lawn. It would seem Bethany Greene had been sent on her way.
“Whatever you do, wrap this up quickly. Last thing we need is another body.”
More to the point, it was the last thing she needed. Not to sound unsympathetic to the victims, but if Amanda missed clues and the bodies continued to pile up, the lieutenant would only use it as ammunition against her. “I’m with you there. Did you hear Doe was branded by a sex-trafficking ring?”
“Not from you, but dear God.” Malone made the sign of t
he cross and looked heavenward. “Poor girl suffers like that and then she’s murdered. What the hell is the world coming to?”
“Let me know when you figure it out,” she kicked back.
“Please keep me posted, and if you need anything…”
“Actually, can you make sure officers talk to the people who live behind the property? Some of the windows overlook Shannon’s backyard.”
“Will do.” With that Malone walked off.
“Do you really think we’re looking at an isolated incident?” Trent pierced her with his gaze.
“All I can say is, I hope the killing stops here.”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Her partner had a point, but it wasn’t one she liked, and it wasn’t as if they were discussing something of no importance—they were talking about lives. “It’s our jobs to determine what’s going on before the body count increases, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Nineteen
Amanda looked across the street at the crowd. It didn’t matter how many times she witnessed people gathering in the aftermath of tragedy, it was always unsettling. She scanned everyone’s faces. Some were familiar from the day before, but it was the same street, so the same neighbors. A couple of officers were already making the rounds and speaking with people.
“Trent,” she started, leaning toward him and speaking in a low voice, “without causing much fuss, pull out your phone and take pictures of the crowd.”
He did as she asked without a word.
While he did that, she called Rideout’s cell number. He answered on the second ring. “It’s Detective Steele.” After asking him how he was, out of courtesy, she got to the meat of her call. “Any way to rush the tox panel on Jane Doe from five thirty-two Bill Drive? We might be looking at another victim.”
“Oh. Do you suspect the same killer?”
“Honestly, undecided, but it’s entirely possible.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Stolen Daughters Page 8
