by Mary Stone
“It’s overwhelming when you think about it,” Jillian said. “So many families who don’t know what happened to their loved one. They’re just out there, hoping and praying. Waiting for a miracle.”
Ellie sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “I guess I never thought about how many cases are never solved.”
“Most people don’t.” Taking a white cardboard box from a shelf, Jillian set it on the table. She kept her hand on it, her hazel eyes locking with Ellie’s. “But I do. They haunt me. I know that Cold Cases is supposed to be the rookie beat, to let you know that you’re lowest on the food chain and all that. But you’re here for a reason, Ellie. You can make a difference. Even if you only solve one of these cases, that’s one less family left wondering where their loved one is at night.”
“You really care about these victims.”
Jillian nodded, stepping over to a file cabinet and removing a file. “When I took the internship here, and I found all these people just waiting to be identified, it changed everything for me. I was studying to be a librarian, and this internship was a stretch, but I was trying to find something that would make me stand out.”
“Is there a lot of competition in that field?” Ellie asked.
“You bet. You wouldn’t believe how fierce the competition is now that so many degrees are online. If you want to work for a big library, you have to have a hook. I thought this would set me apart, but it sent me in a new direction instead. I changed my major to Criminal Justice the next week, graduated, and took a full-time job here. I never looked back.”
“So, why this case?”
Jillian gripped the lid of the white box with both hands. “I’ve read a lot of these cases, but this one really stuck with me. Young college-age woman found tucked in the woods at West Ashley Park. No missing persons report matching her description, and no leads.”
“But there has to be a lot of cases like that, right? That’s why they’re Jane Does.”
“You’re right, but that wasn’t all.” She was still holding the box shut, and Ellie itched to open it, but Jillian was building up to something. Ellie could tell the clerk was bent on revealing the case in her own time. So Ellie waited, and Jillian finally continued. “This young woman was tortured, but according to the medical examiner, the torture was followed by a swift death.”
“There wasn’t a significant lag between the two?” Ellie asked, her interest piqued.
“No. And that’s bothered me for so long. Why torture someone only to kill them right away?”
“Maybe she gave up the information the perp wanted pretty easily,” Ellie suggested, eyeing the box. “If they didn’t need her anymore, she would be a liability, right?”
Jillian shrugged. “Here’s another thing: if she had such valuable information at her disposal, why has she never been reported missing?” Her fingers curled, fingernails hooking beneath the edge of the box lid. “Usually, victims are tortured for pleasure or information. If it was the latter, she should’ve been someone whose disappearance was well-publicized. But there’s nothing.”
Ellie couldn’t suppress a shudder. “Can we be sure it wasn’t for pleasure?”
“The quick kill at the end would dispute that.”
Ellie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m almost afraid to ask how she died.”
“It’s bad,” Jillian whispered, her already light skin paling as she grimaced. “There are pictures, and it’s not easy to look at. That’s why I wanted to prepare you.”
“Thank you, but I think I can handle it.” She held out her hand for the box.
Jillian slid it across the table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
In reverence, Ellie opened the box. At first glance, it was like any other evidence box, every item individually sealed in plastic bags. Each bag had an evidence seal in dark orange, which had to be initialed and replaced every time it was broken, but Ellie had no need. Everything was visible through the clear plastic, and opening them would only compromise what little evidence there was.
Each individual piece of clothing was sealed in its own bag, carefully folded so it laid flat. In addition to the actual clothing, there were photographs of each item, both on the victim and from several angles once it had been removed.
Ellie studied each piece carefully, then set them aside. “It’s hard to tell what color the shirt was. That’s a lot of blood.”
Jillian flipped the bag holding the woman’s shirt and tilted it at an angle until the bright light overhead caught it just right. “It’s lavender.”
“I see it now.”
Next came the preserved biological evidence. A sizable amount of hairs, many of them with the roots. There was a note about the hair, which was a coppery golden brown so light it reminded Ellie of honey. The color wasn’t natural according to the note, and there was no root growth. A recent dye-job. In the other bags, there were scrapings from underneath her fingernails, a DNA profile, and a rape kit.
Ellie took the copy of the medical examiner’s report from the box, leaving the sealed original in its bag. She read it through, eyes widening as the details sunk in, then she looked up at Jillian with her mouth agape. “Decapitated?”
“One quick, clean cut between the C3 and C4 vertebrae.”
Ellie frowned, studying the report again. “Wouldn’t that take quite a bit of force?”
“Force, skill, and an incredibly sharp blade.”
She blew out a slow breath. “At least that explains the blood loss.”
Jillian shook her head and reached across the table to turn the page and point to the medical examiner’s tight, messy writing. “See right here? The body showed several signs of shock, heavy blood loss that happened quite some time before the cause of death. She’d lost a significant amount of blood long before she was killed.”
Ellie scanned ahead, then sucked in a quick breath. “Her hand was cut off at the wrist too.”
Jillian nodded. “But look right below that.”
“The fingers of that same hand were cut off first.” Ellie shook her head. “This is horrifying. This poor girl.”
“They estimated her age at twenty. Far too young to die.”
Ellie scanned the rest of the report. “The rape kit came up with nothing.”
“And there was no foreign DNA under her nails. The killer was meticulous, but here’s where it gets weird.”
Wasn’t it already strange enough?
But as Jillian spread the crime scene photos out in front of her, Ellie’s stomach turned.
“She looks alive,” Ellie whispered. “Like she’s lying in the woods taking a nap.”
Jillian glanced up, obviously happy to have someone as enamored about the case as she was. “Not just that, but look how she’s posed.”
“You can’t even tell where he’s cut her. How big is the property where she was found?”
“Almost a hundred acres.”
“That’s not huge, but in the woods, I guess it’s enough to give the killer the time needed.” Ellie leaned in closer to one of the gruesome photos. “How long was she out there?”
“She was found within twelve hours of being placed. Whoever killed her made no attempt to cover the body except to arrange leaves around her severed hand and neck to make it look like she was intact.”
Ellie bit the inside of her lip and studied the photos once more. “There’s no remorse here.”
“I noticed that too.”
Their eyes met, and Ellie nodded, her chest tight as she thought of the victim out there in the wilderness, exposed. “You’ve convinced me. This is the one.”
“You’re going to solve the case?” Jillian’s face lit with hope.
“No,” she said with a determined nod. “We’re going to solve this case.”
10
Ellie pulled up to her parents’ house, parking in the long, circular drive in front of the sprawling historic brick mansion. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
She w
asn’t ready for Sunday dinner. After a long week, Saturday hadn’t been enough time off to recharge. She was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, though the wide range of feelings she’d experienced this week made her feel like she was slogging through deep mud with each step.
An entire week had passed, and she still didn’t know how she was going to break the news to her family. Wesley would be happy, and she was sure her dad would at least support her decision. But it was Helen Kline whose approval Ellie craved.
Rigid and set in her ways, Helen had never understood why Ellie wanted to make detective so badly, and she’d always brushed it off. No one in her family had expected her to make detective this soon, and Ellie dreaded the conversation. Still, she couldn’t wait forever, and now that it was time for their weekly family dinner, she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Eustace, the family butler for as long as Ellie could remember, opened the door before she could knock. She hugged him as she stepped into the foyer, inhaling the familiar scent of Old Spice.
“Lovely to see you, Miss Ellie,” he said, wrinkled face cracking with a quick smile. His blue eyes were clouding with age, but the sparkle was still there. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said quietly, so her voice didn’t carry from the massive foyer into the formal dining room. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Braised beef gorgonzola. My own personal recipe.”
Ellie barely suppressed a moan of appreciation. “Eustace, you never cease to amaze me. What on earth is Mother going to do when you retire?”
He winked. “Hire five more people, I imagine.”
“I think it would take more than five people to replace you.”
Eustace gave her a half-bow. “I was being humble.”
Ellie squeezed the old man’s hand then quickly kissed his cheek, just before her mother’s voice echoed down the short hall.
“Eleanor?” her mother called out. “Is that you, dear?”
“You’d best hurry. Your mother is a bit impatient today.”
“Isn’t that every day?” Ellie laughed, turning toward the dining room, but Eustace was gone when she turned around, disappearing through a servants’ door. Out of sight and out of mind as he went about his duties with the grace and speed of a man half his age.
Ellie rushed to greet her mother, who was straightening the place settings on the elegantly covered dining room table. She inhaled and let out a soft moan. “It smells delicious,” she said as she followed her mother into the massive kitchen that was a chef’s dream. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
“One would think you’d show up on time then. We’ve been waiting for you. Nicolas is here.” Her dark eyes flashed.
Ellie caught herself before she groaned, and the sound came out as part sigh, part cough. “You know, you don’t have to invite him to Sunday dinner every Sunday.”
“Why not? He’s practically family. And when you get married—”
“We’re not even engaged,” Ellie pointed out.
The truth was, it was more complicated than that, but explaining that to Helen Kline was pointless. The fact that neither Nick nor Ellie needed to define their relationship to be happy meant it was up to Helen’s interpretation. And since Helen was thrilled at the possibility of a Kline-Greene merger, she chose to believe that Nick and Ellie’s relationship was far more evolved than it was.
Before her mother could work up the “reasons you should be engaged and stop policework” pitch, Ellie sighed inwardly and laid it out on the metaphorical table. “Can we talk about this another time? I’m hungry and exhausted. And I’m sure Nick is tired of you pressing him about the subject.”
Ellie hugged her mom tight, then linked her arm through Helen’s, and they walked into the dining room together.
“Of course, dear,” her mother said in a voice that assured Ellie that “another time” wouldn’t be too far off, and smiled at Dan Jr. as he entered and pulled a chair out for her. “Thank you, darling,” her mother said as she sat.
Ellie’s father entered, greeted her, and sat in the chair at the head of the table, beside Helen’s. As he picked up his water glass, his hand trembled slightly.
Ellie put her hands on her father’s shoulders and kissed his cheek, speaking low into his ear. “How are you feeling, Dad?”
“I’ve been better.” He chuckled, then coughed into a handkerchief with his initials delicately stitched on one corner. “But I’m happy to see you here, princess.”
She sighed, kissed him again, then took her seat between Wesley and Nick. Princess. He was the only man in her life who had never slung the word like an insult. She’d never allowed anyone but him to call her that.
“Your father isn’t feeling well at all,” Helen said. “He’s been going downhill since late last week.” She looked pointedly at Ellie.
Ellie’s stomach turned at the reference to her jump from the bridge, and when Nick’s hand found hers under the table, she took it and held on. Helen’s implication was clear—that the tension of Ellie’s job was ruining her father’s health—but Ellie wasn’t about to take the bait. An argument at Sunday dinner was the last thing her father needed.
With a slight tremble to her lip that was the only sign Helen was fighting for composure, she glanced around the table and folded her delicate hands on the gleaming wood in front of her. Her wedding ring shone in the soft light of the grandiose chandelier that hung above the table. Her lips pursed, expression sad, she raised perfectly plucked eyebrows at her husband.
He nodded, gave her a cheerless smile, and slowly reached out to pat her hands. The effort appeared monumental, and the gesture she’d seen her father use to comfort her mother countless times ended in an abrupt fall of his hand onto hers. An instant later, Helen opened her hands to take his between her palms, protecting his dignity and giving the impression that it was intentional.
Like everyone else at the table, Ellie knew it was anything but.
“Your father has asked me to tell you all what happened at the doctor office Friday.” She took a deep breath then sighed heavily before continuing. “Your father’s health is deteriorating. He’s had a series of mild strokes, which wouldn’t have been as bad if he wasn’t already in a fragile state. He’ll need a transplant soon.” Her forehead furrowed into a frown. “Which means that we’ll be praying for another family’s loss so that Daniel can have a new heart. It’s not an easy place to be. And we’re going to need you all to do your part to reduce his stress while we’re waiting.”
Everyone nodded, including Nick. Aside from that slight movement of her head, Ellie was frozen to her seat, her heart a wild jackrabbit in her chest.
Helen’s returning smile was soft, equal parts scared and hopeful as she gazed at her children, and the one man she hoped would someday be her son-in-law. She’d made that dream known for as long as Ellie could remember. No pressure or anything.
When her mother’s gaze settled on Ellie, she froze. Here it comes.
“I know you’ve made it clear that you’re not giving up your job, but I’m hoping that you care enough about your father’s health to tone it down a bit. You always were an adrenaline seeker, and you know how it affects your father’s peace of mind. We want you to be safe, not running off and jumping from bridges. Perhaps you can ask your partner to take different assignments.”
Ellie sighed. Her mother would never understand the chain of command, but now that was moot.
“I was hoping you’d be proud of me, and we could skip the guilt trip,” she said, her voice wavering. She cleared her throat and continued, still holding Nick’s hand under the table. “That was a major bust, and interest in working for the department has tripled with the publicity.”
Helen’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful. Then they won’t miss you. Of course, you’ll need to give them two weeks’ notice, but that won’t matter once you—”
“I’m not on patrol anymore.
”
Her mother’s mouth parted daintily, the closest she ever came to a mouth agape in shock. “You already quit? Eleanor darling, I’m so happy you’ve had a change of heart.”
“I didn’t quit police work. I got promoted.”
Her parents blinked as one, then Helen gave her a tight smile. “A promotion is wonderful. Will you have your own desk?”
She thought of the tables that had been pointed out as her workspace. “And then some.”
“Oh, Eleanor, I’m so proud of you. See, I told you there was a way to serve the city without putting yourself in danger. How many men will you be overseeing? How does that work?”
She met her mother’s gaze full-on. “It’s not that kind of promotion.”
A dark look passed over Helen’s face. She was no fool. But she was patient, silently waiting for Ellie to elaborate.
Ellie straightened her shoulders and took a slow, deep breath. “I put in for detective, and it’s official.”
“Detective of what?” Helen asked.
“Technically, Charleston calls it the Violent Crimes Unit, so we catch a little bit of everything. But you’ll be happy to know I got the safest, most mundane assignment available. I’m working cold cases.”
“Cold cases?” Helen’s voice was strained. She let go of Daniel’s hand and clenched her fingers into loose fists.
Ellie narrowed her eyes, watching the expressions playing across Helen’s face. “Unsolved murders and kidnappings, assaults and the like are what Violent Crimes houses,” she explained, realizing the description sounded worse than her beat job. “But I have the old dead-end murder cases. If it happened in Charleston and it wasn’t solved, I’ll be taking a look at it.”
Helen glanced at her husband, eyes wide, ruby-red-stained lip caught between her teeth.
Daniel leaned forward as if he was about to stand up, but he paused to mop the shine from his face with a cloth napkin, then sat back.
Helen pressed her fingers down hard on the table, but not before Ellie saw the tremble.
