by Mary Burton
“I wouldn’t know. And my questions for him are very routine.”
“I heard about that girl they found in the park? You working that case?”
“I am.”
“Terrible. Such a young girl.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall and a tall young man wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and red tie approached Jake. His hair was cut short and neatly parted.
“Detective Bishop. I’m Tim Taylor.”
Jake shook his hand wondering if Tim looked all that young or if he was just getting older. Second time today. Hell, maybe he was losing a step. “Thank you for seeing me. Is there a place where we can talk in private?”
Tim glanced toward Miss Jones who stared boldly at them. “Sure. There’s a small conference room.”
Jake followed Tim to a small paneled room furnished with an oval oak table surrounded by eight leather chairs.
Tim reached for the phone. “Would you like coffee? My assistant can bring it.”
“No, thank you.”
Tim sat at the head of the table and Jake sat in a chair angled to his right and ran his hand down his tie as he crossed his legs. “I’m here to talk about Mike Marlowe.”
“I figured as much. I must have talked to ten cops after he vanished. Mr. Marlowe took me out for drinks a few weeks ago to talk about Mike.”
“What did he want to talk about?”
“Same old thing. First, we talked about how great Mike was on the football field.”
“He was the quarterback and you were the receiver.”
“Exactly. Then he asked if I ever thought about Mike and was there anything that I remembered that might help find him.”
“What was your response?”
“Frankly, I don’t think about Mike. Occasionally a reporter will call, but I don’t even take those calls anymore. I don’t see the point in dredging up the past.”
“What do you think happened to Mike?”
Tim leaned forward, tapping an index finger lightly on the table. “I think he pissed someone off.”
“Enough to kill him?”
“Yeah. He was a bully. And he could be a real dick. Don’t get me wrong, I loved playing ball with the guy and we partied more than a few times. His old man’s money made him a spoiled brat.”
“You tell that to Marlowe?”
“I tried once but he didn’t want to hear it. Death has done Mike’s reputation a favor. All the people that hated his ass in school were the first to light candles at his vigil. They were the first to go after Amber.”
“Why did they go after Amber?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think mostly because it was easy. She really couldn’t defend herself. Sadly, if she’d been the one to die in the woods there wouldn’t have been as big a fuss made. She was a nobody.”
“Marlowe doesn’t like her.”
“Hates her guts is more like it. Once, after Mike vanished, he nearly drove her off the road with his car. He’d have done it if a cop hadn’t seen what was happening and stopped. Marlowe found a way to smooth it over so the charges never got filed.”
“What did you think about Amber?”
“Smokin’ hot. Freaky chick. Liked the guys and drove them nuts.”
“She slept around?”
“She did her share. We all knew she was working her way up the food chain, determined to land with the rich guy . . . Mike.”
“And she got him.”
“Hook, line, and sinker. He used to talk about her in the locker room. Said she was a freak in bed.”
Locker room talk about a girl wasn’t his idea of reliable. Oversexed teenaged boys exaggerated. “Did you ever sleep with her?”
His face paled. “No. Not that I didn’t want to or would have said no, but she was with Mike.”
“What do you remember best about her?”
“One time at lunch break junior year, we were sitting outside and Mike was harassing Bethany. The girl looked ready to cry. Amber appears and gives Mike a piece of her mind and then puts her arm around Bethany and tells her not to worry.”
“Mike ever talk to you about the field trip into the woods.”
He shook his head. “He didn’t want to do it. Thought science was for pussies. But he needed the grade to get his old man off his back and not take his fat allowance away. They fought tooth and nail over the money. Mike kept saying it was his and Marlowe reminded him he didn’t get a dime until he was twenty-three.”
“Did you know Amber is back in town?”
He shifted as if he’d been jabbed. “I didn’t know that. Is that why you’re here? Did she remember something?”
“She says she’s not remembered a thing. I’m here because we found Bethany and Mike’s remains in the park. They’ve been dead five years.”
“Shit.”
Jake let the comment sit there and waited for Tim to make a move.
Again, the finger tapped on the table. “You know Mike hired someone to take his SATs for him.”
“I didn’t know that. Who did he hire?”
“Bethany.”
“How do you know this?”
“He got drunk and talked.” The phone buzzed and Tim picked it up. “Right thanks.” He hung up. “I’ve got to get back. We’re getting briefs ready for a case.”
As the two rose, Jake pulled out a card. “We’ll talk again, Mr. Taylor. I’m not going away.” He held out a card. “Call me if you think of anything.”
Tim had to reach out to get the card. “I will.”
Miss Jones asked Jake if he needed anything else as he was leaving. He smiled and kept walking. He hated lawyers.
* * *
Georgia arrived at the medical examiner’s office just after four. It wasn’t customary for techs to attend an autopsy. That was the jurisdiction of the medical examiner, but she wanted to be present when Dr. Heller provided a detailed analysis of Bethany Reed and Mike Marlowe’s bones found in the cave. As she moved toward the glass partition separating the lobby from the receptionist, she heard, “Georgia.”
She turned to see Deke standing by the wall, leaning, his phone in hand scrolling through e-mails. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
A smile traced his lips as he pushed off from the wall and moved toward her, his strides long and purposeful. “Doesn’t surprise me to find you here.”
“Don’t tell me you want in on the analysis? That’s a lot of science and technical stuff and you’re all about following the interviews.”
“Even an old dog can learn a trick or two.”
“I think of the science end of this case as mine.”
“Yours?”
“Sure.” Every time she looked at Deke she saw their father Buddy and felt as if she needed to justify herself. “If not for me opening the cold case, none of us would be here.”
“True. True enough.” He raised an index finger, just like Buddy used to, pointing to her as if he’d just remembered an important detail. “Alex called me last night. Leah’s finalizing the details of their Christmas wedding.”
Brother Alex, TBI agent, was a man of few emotions and often came across as unfeeling. What few realized was that his emotions ran bone deep for his job, his family, and now his fiancée, Leah. She was a veterinarian who was bright and vibrant. When Georgia saw her with Alex, it was easy to assume Leah’s life had been charmed. A closer look revealed scars, sliced into her by an ex-husband, and now so carefully hidden with special makeup.
“Right. I have to get by for the last fitting of my bridesmaid dress. I keep putting that off.”
Deke shifted. “Right. Well, she wants to know if you’re bringing a date.”
“A date?” Color rushed her cheeks as she stared at the brother so like her father and thought about Jake, not expecting some kind of commitment. “No. No date. Wearing a bridesmaid dress is traumatic enough.”
He looked at her as if he picked up the shift in her vibration. “You sure? No plus one?”
“Very.” She cleared her throat, needing to run for the cover of work details. “Where’s Rick?”
“He was at the Palmer Motel searching a room belonging to Scott Murphy. They found Elisa’s backpack in the room.”
“Really?” Adrenaline surged through her muscles. She lived for moments like this. “Any sight of this Murphy guy?”
“No. He’s gone and officers on scene are waiting for the forensic team.”
She glanced at her phone. “I’ve not received a text yet. I should be on the scene.”
“Last I checked, you’re not the only one in the department.” He shifted, standing between her and the elevator. “Scott Murphy fits Jenna’s sketch, so he’s using the image and going door to door in the motel.”
She tapped an impatient finger on her belt. “You said this Scott Murphy guy vanished.”
“He can run, but he can’t hide from me for long.” He slid the phone in his pocket. “I’m very sure your buddies in the lab will lift all kinds of good DNA.”
She checked her watch. “Four o’clock. I bet Brad got that text. He was hoping to get out of the office on time today.”
“Join the club.”
The doors opened and Dr. Heller appeared. Georgia liked the pathologist, who moved with a quiet efficiency that she found calming. If Georgia had to classify herself she’d be a tornado. Dr. Heller was smooth calm waters. Jake, well, he was an earthquake. He turned everything upside down.
“Looks like a party today,” Dr. Heller said. “I’m flattered you could join me.”
They followed her up to the exam room and each donned gowns and gloves before joining Dr. Heller in a tiled exam room. In the center of the room lay two sets of skeletal remains. Bones, darkened to a muddy brown by time and the damp cave were laid out in anatomical order side by side. One glance at the smaller set of bones with the wide pelvis and delicate brow line confirmed what she had suspected in the cave. The bones were female. The other set was markedly larger and clearly those of a male.
Her gaze settled on the empty spot that should have held the right femur bone of the female. “We bagged everything in that cave.”
Dr. Heller, her athletic frame now swallowed by a green gown, nodded as she linked gloved fingers together. “I don’t see signs of trauma on the adjoining bones. No saw or ax marks to suggest that the killer dismembered the body. But there are small gnaw marks at the end of the femur. My guess is an animal burrowed in from some small crevice in the cave and chewed on the body.”
Georgia grimaced, trying not to picture a wild animal defiling the remains of Bethany Reed. “Do you know how she died?”
“It’s as I expected. She was stabbed.” She lifted a rib bone that would have rested near the heart. “See the slash mark here? That’s a knife mark. Someone drove a knife from above her into her chest.”
“That someone would likely be taller,” Georgia said. “Like Mike.”
“Sure, but that’s assuming she was standing when she was stabbed.” Dr. Heller shrugged. “She was also struck very hard on the back right scapula and the back of her skull. The blows would not have been enough to kill her, but would have knocked her to her knees.” She raised the triangular-shaped scapula bone and pointed to weblike fractures.
“She fell to her knees first,” Georgia said as she tried to visualize the last moments of Bethany’s life.
“Maybe,” Dr. Heller replied. “It would have been an incredibly painful blow.”
“What was she hit with?” Deke asked.
“Hard to say exactly.” She pointed to the center of the fractures. “The contact area is tight and circular. Perhaps a hammer or a palm-sized rock.”
“And then the killer moved in front of her and drove a knife in her chest,” Georgia said.
“That would be my guess,” Dr. Heller said. “We’ve photographed the bones and have examined them, and I won’t need to hold onto them much longer. Mrs. Reed and Mr. Marlowe are anxious to take custody of the remains so that they can hold funeral services.”
“When will you release the bones?” Deke asked.
“In a day or two. I released Elisa Spence’s remains to her parents a couple of hours ago. They’re planning on cremation and no ceremony, but it’s my understanding that Mrs. Reed is planning a funeral and I don’t know Marlowe’s plans yet.”
Georgia understood the pain of burying a parent but thankfully not a child. “Those families have suffered enough.”
Deke shook his head. “They’ve got some closure. That counts for a lot.”
“That’s not enough. I want their killer more than ever now.”
A grin tugged the edges of his mouth. “You sound like Buddy.”
“Really?”
“More every day.”
“Thanks. I think.” As she stared at the large bones, she visualized the file photographs of the tall young man with broad shoulders and a square jaw. “What’s Mike’s story?”
“He was shot in the head just above the left temporal lobe as you suspected. No other wounds or damage to the body.”
“I searched the cave floor and found the bullet lodged in the dirt.”
Dr. Heller lifted the skull and moved to a side counter where she picked up a long narrow rod. She inserted the rod into the hole in the temple and out the one at the back of the skull. “This is the trajectory of the bullet.” She held a pointed finger as if it were the barrel of a gun to the temple. “The slight downward trajectory suggests it was fired at close range. He would have died instantly.”
“An execution,” Deke said.
“I would have bought the murder/suicide angle if not for the Spence body,” Georgia said.
“Agreed.”
“I’m running ballistics on the bullet. I’ve done my best to pull up the serial number on the gun but no luck.”
“Let Bishop break the news to Marlowe about the manner of death. I don’t know who the hell killed those kids, but right now everyone is a suspect, even Marlowe.”
“Understood.”
“Any remains of clothes found with the bodies?”
“Zippers. The rest rotted away. The zippers are from standard jeans that could be purchased in any box store.”
“And the necklace was dangling from the rocks, correct?” Dr. Heller asked.
“Yes. I’m still trying to figure that one,” Georgia said. “Damn thing’s hanging there almost like a grave marker for Bethany.” Georgia couldn’t imagine the terror the girls endured in their last moments. “Deke, have you fed the details into ViCAP yet?”
ViCAP, an FBI national database stood for the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. The system was not as perfect as many on the outside thought. Not all jurisdictions across the country entered data into the system. Many of the smaller municipalities were short on funds and manpower
Deke shook his head. “I’m holding off until I have a few more details. Fingerprints from the motel would be a big help.”
“There will be dozens, and we’ll have to sift through what’s found.” Impatience nipped at her as she thought about the shifting and digging it would take to find a fingerprint match.
“I have uniforms canvassing the area around the coffee shop with the picture Jenna drew,” Deke said. “A few people think they saw him but no one has any specific details. The guy knows how to blend.”
“We need to sift through the fingerprints in that motel room. We’ll focus on the ones on the remote, any food or drink containers, and door handles.”
“They found a guitar.”
“Perfect.”
“I can input a fingerprint into the databases and we’re more likely to get a hit from that than eyewitness testimony.”
Georgia studied the collection of dark brittle bones. “What set him off?”
“Who the hell knows,” Deke said.
* * *
The fresh voice mails sat unanswered in Amber’s phone from several reporters and a couple of guys she’d met in a bar her first night in
town. The reporters were an annoyance and of no use to her and the men, though they had been entertaining for a few hours, now irritated her.
As the television commercial featuring dog food flashed, she muted the television. She was watching for any news reports on the girl, Elisa Spence. She was found dead in Percy Warner Park and very likely the reason Jake and Georgia had left so quickly from the diner.
Finding the Spence girl also explained why she didn’t hear back from Georgia and Jake, even though they were so eager to reopen the missing persons cases on Bethany and Mike.
As her mother turned on the shower in the back bathroom, she rose and moved toward the kitchen. Her mother had arrived home fifteen minutes ago and promised to talk as soon as she washed the stench of the bar out of her hair. Once her mother finished her shower, she would say a word or two to Amber, but it would be less than a half hour before she fell into bed, exhausted.
Her mother’s ritual had not changed in the last five years, leaving Amber to believe the stench most likely came from a strange man as much as the bar. When the sun was down, her mother loved men. When it was up, she hated them.
Amber dug a Mason jar from the cabinet and filled it with tap water. As she drank and stared out the back kitchen window into the barren backyard, the irony of the moment struck hard. For all her plans of making it big and getting rich, she’d come full circle. She was back in her mother’s house and still wanting more and wondering why her mother could not get her shit together.
She finished her water and then turned to the grocery bag her mother had deposited on the counter. She had brought home a few cans of soup, crackers, and milk. Though the thought of the milk made Amber’s stomach turn, soup appealed to her. She pulled the lid off the can, found a big mug and dumped it inside. She punched in two minutes on the microwave, put the soup inside, and hit start.
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her back pocket to glance at the display. She swore and sent the call to voice mail.
* * *
He stood outside, his slim muscled body pressed against the bark of an old oak tree. He watched as Amber passed in front of the window, the T-shirt and jeans molding her supple body.
