Cold Truth

by Mary Stone

  “I thought I’d wait for you. It’s more fun that way.”

  “Let’s get after it, then.” Ellie turned the computer on and typed in her credentials; it was up and running in a matter of minutes. She took out her notes and started searching through the missing persons database.

  While she was working, Jillian began her own search. “I looked a little over the weekend, but it’s hard without the case file with me,” she explained when Ellie looked over to see what she was doing. “There are more people turning up missing every year, so a lot of people turn to social media when the police can’t help.”

  “I’ve seen that before. But most of the time, the person being shared was found years before. I’m sure that throws a wrench into things.”

  Jillian tapped her computer screen. “Isn’t it mind-blowing that someone playing detective online wouldn’t bother clicking on the article to check for updates first? But even accounting for all that nonsense, social media has helped bring countless people home when overworked police departments can’t. Posting is worth a shot.”

  They worked in silence for a while, with only the clacking of fingers on keyboards filling the room as they searched hundreds of reports. Every few minutes, Ellie would glance at the copy of the picture that sat on her desk of the poor woman’s face. Even with a notepad covering up the injury, Ellie couldn’t wash the image of the clean cut partway down the woman’s neck.

  The notes pointed out that only a knife that was both heavy and extremely sharp could have resulted in such a clean wound. But quick didn’t mean painless, and Jane Doe’s blank, fixed stare had haunted Ellie’s dreams since she’d first laid eyes on it. No matter how fast her death was, in the end, there was no mercy there.

  And to think she’d gone nameless for all this time. Buried in a state funded cemetery with only a number to indicate her existence.

  When the phone on her desk rang, crashing through the silence without warning, Ellie nearly jumped out of her skin. She was relieved to see that Jillian had jumped too. They gave each other embarrassed smiles.

  “Detective Kline,” she answered, savoring the words that felt exciting and foreign all at once. Someday, her new title wouldn’t make her pulse quicken, but for now, she was enjoying the novelty.

  “Come to my office,” Fortis ordered, his thick, gravelly voice unmistakable.

  Her stomach dropped. “Of course.” The line went dead in her ear before she could say more. Setting the receiver in the cradle, she took a deep breath.

  “Bad news?” Jillian said, having paused in her work.

  “No, at least I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll wait for you if you want. Otherwise, I’m going to grab lunch.”

  Ellie glanced down at her watch, blinking her exhausted eyes a few times, and frowned. “I didn’t realize we’d been at this for hours. Don’t wait for me. There’s no telling how long this might take.”

  They rode the creaking elevator together to the first floor, where Jillian got off and gave a tiny wave before she was gone. The car lurched upward, stopped abruptly, and jolted a little when the doors bumped open before it was completely lined up with the second-floor hallway.

  Fortis waved her into his office from behind his desk.

  At least he isn’t scowling, Ellie thought, closing the glass door behind her, even though it did nothing for privacy and only slightly muffled their voices.

  “That was quick,” he said, offering her a seat.

  She took it, sitting back and trying to look relaxed. The urge to ask if she was in trouble was strong, but Fortis was in a hurry and started talking before she’d found a comfortable position in the cracked leather chair.

  “Jillian likes you.” He smiled as his hazel eyes appraised her. “How are you liking Cold Cases?”

  “It’s…different.”

  “That department takes some getting used to. Here’s a list of the cases I want you to start with. You can go in any order, but I’d like to get them cleared out first, if we can.”

  Ellie took the typed list. “The one I’m working on isn’t listed.”

  This earned an arched eyebrow from him. “Are you still working on that Jane Doe?”

  She automatically jumped to the defense of the helpless woman. “It’s only been a week.”

  “Have you made any headway?”

  No.

  “Yes, but not much.”

  Fortis waved a dismissing hand. “Then go ahead and shelve it, and let’s move on.”

  He started to turn, as if to end the conversation, but she couldn’t abandon Jane Doe. “Why? What makes these cases more important? Aren’t they all unsolved?”

  His smile slipped, but he didn’t let any emotion show. “This list is of the cases that have a lot of evidence. With all the advancements in technology, you can probably clear out half of them this month.”

  “That’s a little ambitious.”

  He stiffened, but his demeanor remained cordial. “Do you have a better idea?”

  Ellie knew that tone, but self-preservation wasn’t as important as finding Jane’s killer. “I want to see this Jane Doe case through.”

  He picked up a pen and thrummed it on the desk. “Do you have new leads?”

  “No, but I haven’t had a lot of time on it, and if I could just—”

  “If you haven’t made any progress in a week, it’s time to let it go.”

  “Can’t we account for learning? I’m working with systems I’ve never seen before, and I’ve finally started to hit my stride. I feel like I’m close to a breakthrough.” Not feeling like she was convincing him, she played the guilt-trip card. “Don’t you think this woman’s family deserves to know what happened to their daughter?”

  Fortis gave her a pitying look. “It’s been years.”

  Ellie held his gaze, unwavering in her conviction. “Yes, a lifetime, sir.”

  Fortis sighed. “I’ll level with you. You’re the only detective I have on cold cases, and it’s an election year. I need to have some progress to show. It sounds like this case is becoming a pet project you can’t let go of. That’s not how this is going to work. You hit each case hard, and when you hit a wall, you move on. We can’t solve every cold case.”

  “Sir, if I solve this case, it’s going to be huge. Don’t you think the people of Charleston want to catch the person who decapitated a young woman and left her where children could’ve easily found her? I know I would feel better knowing that person is behind bars.” She crossed her arms and sat back, drawing a proverbial line in the sand.

  Fortis scowled. “We’re not going to do this on every case, you understand? You work for me.” He punched his chest with his index finger.

  “One more week. If I haven’t made serious progress by end of day Friday, I’ll start your list first thing Monday.”

  “You’ll start the list Monday, regardless,” he countered. “This is only the start of your second week, and working one case at a time isn’t what we do.”

  “Understood.” She stood slowly and turned toward the door.

  “Kline?”

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Don’t make this a habit.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and hurried out the door before he could change his mind.

  She was halfway to the parking lot when she realized she’d forgotten to ask him about the desk. Shrugging, she decided she didn’t care. Jillian was better company, and the evidence room was quieter than the bullpen where the other detectives gathered.

  She grabbed lunch at a drive-thru and headed out to West Ashley Park. She was finishing the last bite as she parked her car and grabbed the running shoes she kept in the cargo area. Hurrying past the soccer fields and playground, she used a printed satellite image of the park to find the spot where Jane Doe’s body had been dumped.

  Placed, she amended, remembering the meticulous staging of the scene. Displayed.

  Manicured open green spaces gave way to mulched
trails bordered by thick marsh grasses. A large crane with a splash of red across its face stood in the shallow water, unbothered by her presence as it dipped its beak into the water, looking for fish.

  Ellie was so entranced by the bird she almost missed the sign posted on a tree: A Fed Alligator is a Dead Alligator. Comparing the GPS on her phone to the crime scene printout, she suppressed a shudder when she realized she was standing almost in the exact spot. A few young palmettos had appeared since the body was found, but other than that, not much had changed in five years.

  Standing in the very spot Jane Doe had been found, she could hear children shrieking with joy on the playground. The body had been only a few yards from the trail. There were so many places that would’ve hidden the crime for longer than twelve hours, maybe even forever. But the body had been carefully displayed right there, clearly visible from the walking trail and close to the water’s edge—meant to be found. Whoever had done this knew the woman wouldn’t be identified, or simply didn’t care if she was—a fact that seemed so very callous.

  It was the proximity to the playground that had Ellie trembling with barely concealed rage. This wasn’t some remote mountain trail deep in the woods. Several houses in the nearby neighborhood were visible across the water, and in the space of five minutes, a mother appeared on the trail with her two kids. She pointed out the sign and reminded the children that the gators wouldn’t bother them if they stuck close, then she smiled at Ellie and herded the kids on.

  This is a busy trail. This body wasn’t meant to be out here long.

  The murderer had been expecting the body of the woman to be found quickly.

  Why?

  Ellie frowned. She suspected the killer had been hoping that gruesome sight was discovered by a child. It wasn’t enough to torture the victim before she was killed, the perp wanted to terrorize the people of Charleston too.

  Except, the people of Charleston had forgotten the girl in the park. They’d watched the news reports, read the articles, and worried. Then they’d gone on with their lives. Murder was part of modern life, and so many believed it was something that only happened to other people.

  Jane Doe had probably thought that too.

  There was nothing new for Ellie to discover at the dumpsite, but discovering how carefully the location had been picked gave her insight into the murderer’s thought process. No shame. No fear. Absolutely no remorse. This wasn’t a crime of passion, and it was clear the woman hadn’t been tortured for information. All that left Ellie with more questions than answers, but she’d made progress.

  She decided to stop at the M.E.’s office next, and had a copy of the official report in hand when she walked into the spacious office tucked in the back corner of the county coroner’s building in North Charleston.

  The dark-skinned woman behind the desk had thick, wavy hair that fell past her waist and deep red lips that spread into a quick smile. The tall woman stood when Ellie entered the room and held out her hand. “Afternoon, Detective,” she said. “I’m Dr. Faizal. You can call me Moni.”

  “How did you know?” Ellie asked, sitting down across from Dr. Faizal.

  “I would say it’s the way you’re dressed or even the badge on your hip that your jacket doesn’t quite cover, but let’s be honest.” She leaned forward and smiled, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “There hasn’t been this much talk since Charleston got its first lady Medical Examiner.”

  “Jump off a bridge and get promoted to detective, and suddenly, everyone knows your name.”

  Moni laughed, and Ellie joined in, some of the tension that had drawn her shoulder blades together at the park releasing.

  They drew a strange look from a man who walked past the open door carrying a file, and he was still staring at them when he disappeared from view. A few seconds later there was a thud, then the man cursing under his breath, followed by the unmistakable thwack of a stack of papers falling to the floor. One of the papers fluttered to a stop in the doorway, and when the man shuffled over to pick it up, he had a red circle right in the middle of his forehead where it had made contact with the wall.

  Ellie clenched her jaw and managed not to laugh, but Dr. Faizal wasn’t worried about the man’s already bruised ego. “Do you need something, Tom?”

  “No, sorry,” he stammered and disappeared around the doorjamb.

  “What was that all about?” Ellie asked.

  “Some people are too nosey for their own good.” She held out her hand and nodded toward the paper Ellie was clutching so tightly the corner had wrinkled. “Is this a case you’re working on?”

  “It is,” Ellie said, handing the paper over. “I was hoping you could fill in some blanks for me. I know it’s a five-year-old case, but I was thinking that you—”

  “I remember this,” Dr. Faizal said. “I’d never seen that level of brutality in my life. What a horrible way to die.”

  “My thoughts were that it was quick.”

  When Dr. Faizal glanced up, her eyes were solemn. “It was, but not the torture beforehand.”

  “It was my understanding that she was killed shortly after the torture.”

  Dr. Faizal scanned the report. “She was killed after her hand was cut off. But the state of her organs suggested that she’d lost quite a bit of blood hours before the final blow.” She sighed, shaking her head. “The thing is, technically, though there wasn’t much time between the torture and death, for the victim, it was an eternity. Mercifully, it also appeared that she was drugged and was probably completely out of it, if not in shock from the blood loss. If she hadn’t been decapitated, she still would have died in a few hours, if she lasted that long.”

  “Is there anything else you can remember?”

  “I’m sorry, but there was almost no evidence, other than the possible methods of torture, in this case. Which in and of itself is remarkable when you consider the shear strength and violence it took.”

  Ellie was already sure she knew what that meant, but she wanted to know what Moni thought of it. “Meaning?”

  “This wasn’t a first-timer. Whoever this was, they’d killed before. The knowledge and skill it takes to hit right between the vertebrae for a cut that clean isn’t common.”

  “Plus, she wouldn’t have sat still for it. She was probably moving…screaming, drugs in her system or not.”

  “Exactly. A nervous killer would’ve made a mistake.” The M.E. tapped the file with a manicured fingernail. “This is a near-perfect crime.”

  “Near perfect?” Ellie accepted the report when Moni handed it back to her.

  “The hair dye was the only thing that stood out.”

  Ellie flipped through the papers until she found the notes on the dye. “I see it right here. It was recent?”

  “Very recent. I could smell the ammonia. Her hair was bleached shortly before her death.”

  Ellie’s nose scrunched up, as if the smell of ammonia was in the air now. “Bleached?”

  “No way she was naturally that color.” The M.E. pulled up a file on her computer and turned the monitor around to face Ellie. “See her eyebrows? They’re very dark, almost black. Her hair was likely very dark brown, if not black as well. It’s tricky to get the hair to a light blonde when bleaching for the first time, which accounts for the odd copper-honey tone.” She used her mouse to click to the side of the picture, on the young woman’s hair. The picture reloaded, this time with darker hair. “She would’ve looked something like this.”

  Ellie stood, suddenly excited. She hadn’t seen the dark-haired version of the victim before. Maybe she wasn’t the only one. “Can you print that off for me?”

  “Already done.” After a few keystrokes, a paper appeared in the printer tray behind the desk. “Here you go. I know it’s not standard procedure, but if you could let me know what you find, I’d appreciate it. This case has haunted me since they brought her in.”

  “I understand,” Ellie said. “Thank you so much.”

  She could barely tea
r her eyes away from the newly brunette woman as she gathered her things and headed back to her car. She couldn’t wait to show Jillian.

  Maybe this was the break they needed to blow the case wide open.

  13

  Jillian had been gone for more than an hour when Jacob appeared in the doorway with a potted cactus, fighting to keep a grin off his face.

  “Nice digs,” he said, handing Ellie the plant. “I went up to the bullpen, but they said you were down here.”

  “I’m closer to the cold case files here.” She shrugged and eyed the prickles on the cactus. They reminded her of Fortis when she’d gone head to head with him. “They acted like it was a mistake, but no one has done a thing to correct it, and I don’t have the energy to argue. A desk is a desk, and I don’t have to drag boxes upstairs or check out evidence if I’m inside the cage, so it works out. Although, this cactus might croak before it sees the light of day.”

  “Everything all right?” She shrugged again, and Jacob narrowed his eyes. “Spill it, Kline. It’s six p.m., and you’re still here, but you don’t look happy about it. What’s going on?”

  “I thought I got a break in the case I’ve been working on.” She frowned at the papers she’d been studying on her desk. “Except it wasn’t a break, and now we’re right back to where we were before.”

  “We?” Jacob’s dark eyebrows shot up.

  “Jillian is helping me. She’s really good with the computer system, and she’s a wealth of knowledge.”

  “Jillian. The evidence clerk?” He glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, why?” She scowled at him. “What have you heard?”

  “Nothing, except Jillian has a reputation. She’s like a guard dog. She doesn’t like people in her space.”

  “It’s not ‘people’ she has a problem with. You should see how the male officers flirt with her when they come downstairs. I’d be sick of it too.”

  Jacob lifted one shoulder, as if it couldn’t be helped. “She’s hot.”