Trial by Fire (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 6)

by Linsey Lanier

  Templeton laid the folder she’d been carrying down on the only bare space. “This is where I’ve been working. Everything pertaining to the Sutherland case is here.”

  Parker tried another dose of charm. “Would you care to bring us up to speed on the case, Detective?”

  Not a nibble. “You heard the Sergeant. I’m supposed to help Demarco.”

  “I’m sure he assumed you would orient us, show us what you’ve done so far?”

  She shrugged. “It’s all in the notes. If you two are such hot shots, you’ll figure it out.” And she turned, clomped down the aisle and disappeared around the corner.

  A moment later the door clanged shut like a jail cell.

  Miranda gestured to the desk. “Here we are.” Good thing they showed up since their help was so sorely needed, she wanted to add.

  She watched Parker’s gaze skim over her, searching for any sign of suspicion. Oh brother, was he ever going to find it.

  So she turned away, sat down and opened the file. A job was a job. “Might as well get started.”

  ###

  Over her shoulder Miranda heard Parker exhale his frustration.

  “I’ll find another chair while you do that.”

  “Okey dokey.” She pulled out the summary sheet and began to read.

  Fifteen years ago, on the night of December eighteenth a 911 call came in at 2:35 a.m. from a neighbor reporting smoke and flames coming from the house of one Lydia Sutherland on Bunting Street in Lawnfield Heights. Firefighters responded, followed by the arson investigator and the fire marshall. The firemen worked for hours and finally contained the blaze but they couldn’t save the occupant. Lydia’s body was found on a first floor bedroom.

  She was dead.

  Twenty years old, Lydia Sutherland had been a student at the Art Institute downtown. She came from a farming community in Iowa and had been renting the residence in Lawnfield Heights for about five months.

  Miranda shuffled through the file and found her picture. Long creamy blond hair flowing down over shapely breasts. It was done in the bumpy crimped style that was popular back then. Gorgeous complexion. Pretty face. Big bright hazel eyes, eager for whatever life had to offer.

  Unfortunately in her case, that hadn’t turned out to be much.

  In the photo Lydia had on a sparkly pink top that made her hair look even blonder. Her youthful figure was enough to tempt any man she might be acquainted with.

  Interesting.

  “Twenty,” Miranda sighed out loud after Parker had found a seat and pulled it up beside her. “Just a few years younger than I was at the time.”

  “Tragic,” he echoed, reaching for the paper she’d been reading. He scanned it. “Doesn’t tell us much.”

  Miranda had a feeling Detective Stick-Up-Her-Butt could have told them a lot more about this case and not wasted their time. But no, they were “hot shots” so they had to go through all the data themselves.

  Dutifully she reached for one of the photos of the scene. “Let’s see what these tell us.”

  The picture was taken from the outside of the residence on Bunting Street, which was three blocks off Roosevelt. Two-story frame house with cheap aluminum siding. Black scorch marks had climbed up the outer wall of the rear of the building where the fire had escaped, melting the back door and some of the siding with its heat. Looked like that was where the bedroom was.

  The rest of the photos were of the interior.

  In the kitchen the cabinets and walls were the color of burnt toast. The doorframes in the hall were charred to a crisp. And the bedroom was a singed and melted mass of furniture she could barely identify.

  You could almost smell the smoke and feel the heat that had raged through the home.

  But the next photo took her breath.

  The body.

  The bedspread and most of the mattress were gone. As was the victim’s once lovely face. The skin left on her bones looked like the charcoal in the bottom of a grill after a weenie roast. Only a little hair and a portion of the right hand had escaped the flames. Probably how they’d been able to ID her positively. And the dental records.

  Miranda squinted at the picture. “Is she on her back?”

  Parker took the photo and studied it closely. “She appears to be.”

  “How the heck did she sleep through that?”

  “Were there drugs in her system?”

  Miranda found the coroner’s report and held it up so they both could read it. “Sure were. Alcohol levels in the blood off the charts.”

  Parker studied the page. “And a little weed as well.”

  “Must have been a party girl.”

  “Most likely.”

  So much for the art school. Or maybe that went hand in hand. Then Miranda spotted what they were looking for. “Well, well, well.” She grinned, despite the stomach-churning photos.

  She could almost feel Parker’s pulse quicken beside her. “No carbon monoxide or soot in her lungs.”

  She put down the report and sat back as a shudder went through her. “The fire didn’t kill her. She was dead before it started.”

  “It appears Ms. Sutherland could have been murdered and the fire was set to cover it up.” Parker’s voice was low and ominous.

  Hence the suspected arson.

  “What was the cause of death?” Parker picked up the coroner’s report again.

  Miranda tapped a finger on the line with the reply. “Trachea was damaged. The coroner felt it was strangulation but wasn’t a hundred percent sure.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Definitely murder.” Frowning Miranda turned to Parker. “Why did this case go cold?”

  “They probably couldn’t find a suspect.”

  Her shoulders slumped. With her thumb she fanned the rest of the papers in the thick folder. “So I guess we’ve got to go through all of this to figure that out.”

  His lips thinned in a grim expression that didn’t have any of his usual charm. “We have our work cut out for us.”

  She wanted to groan. Still, if they could find a clue someone else had missed, if they could catch whoever did this to that poor young woman and bring him to justice, a few hours of being bored out of her mind would be worth it.

  She found two pads and a couple of pens on the desk, divided the stack in half and handed one to Parker. “Let’s get to it.”

  Miranda read through the detailed reports of the first responders, the interviews with the neighbors and others who had watched the building burn that night. She read slowly, made notes, wrote down names and numbers.

  After about an hour and a half she felt Parker growing restless beside her. She ignored him and pressed on.

  Parker watched his wife, his heart brimming with pride and affection for her. She was on the scent now, just as he knew she’d be. And if he could keep things as they were, she’d solve this case sitting right here in the police station, safe and sound—while he took care of the real purpose for this trip.

  But how to get away without her suspecting anything? She was already suspicious of his intentions. He only hoped the connection she was beginning to feel with the victim in this case would keep her nimble mind distracted from those thoughts.

  He checked the time on his cell phone.

  It was getting late. He needed to get started. He cleared his throat as he thought of an excuse to step out.

  “Let me see what arrangements Demarco wants to make for lunch.” He rose.

  “Uh huh.”

  Miranda was deep into the interviews. Good. She might not even notice he was gone.

  Suddenly she turned to him. “Parker?”

  “Yes?” He gave her as bland a look as he could muster.

  “Can you find out what’s up with Templeton?”

  The question surprised him. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “It’s obvious Demarco ripped the case out of her hands and gave it to us and she’s pissed about it. But why did he do that?”

  Parker put his hands
in his pockets. He knew why. Because he’d requested it of Demarco as a favor. But he’d had no idea the case meant so much to the detective working it or he would have found another one.

  “Why are you interested?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I kinda feel for her.”

  A woman fighting her way up in a male dominated profession. Of course Miranda would identify with someone like that, no matter how badly the woman had treated her. Again his heart swelled with tenderness for his wife and her sense of justice.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He didn’t know what but he’d figure something out.

  “Okay.” She turned back to the files.

  Parker waited a moment. She didn’t say anything else. She was back on the hunt. He took the opportunity to slip away before she could ask any more questions.

  On his way up the stairs he texted Demarco and was told to meet the sergeant in one of the interview rooms in the back of the station.

  Chapter Nine

  When Parker opened the door to the designated interview room, he found Sergeant Demarco already inside, seated at a table, working at a laptop, his signature toothpick tucked into the side of his mouth.

  “Come in and have a seat,” Demarco said without looking up.

  Parker stepped inside and closed the door behind him, noticing the room had been freshly painted in a light blue tone.

  He took the chair beside the sergeant. “You’ve had some upgrades since we were here last.”

  “Oh, yeah. New equipment, too.” Demarco waved a hand at his laptop. “There was some political scuffling last year and somehow we wound up with a surplus in our funding. Probably won’t happen again in my lifetime.”

  Parker grinned an acknowledgement then got straight to business. He didn’t have much time. “What do you have for me?”

  The sergeant turned the laptop so Parker could see the screen. “I took the short list you sent me of local sexual assault suspects and after some digging around, narrowed it down to five.”

  The screen displayed a set of photos. Mug shots.

  Demarco had arranged them in block form with the name under each one. There were contact numbers for some. Parker studied the assortment of unkempt hair, stubble and beards, the postures ranging from defiant to hopeless, the surly looks in their eyes.

  Those were the predators he would have chosen to start with, as well.

  “Came up with three with brown eyes. One with green eyes. One with blue eyes, for good measure,” Demarco said. “According to my tech people, genetics indicates since your wife has dark hair and the girl has almost black hair, the father is most likely going to have very dark hair as well.”

  Parker nodded. His research had shown the same, though there could always be an exception.

  “I gathered as much detail as I could on these guys. Several have good, long rap sheets. All have at least one rape conviction. All but two are out right now. They’re both hard core lifers, doing time in Cook County Jail.”

  “And the other three?”

  “One resides here locally. He’s out on bail for his latest charge. One is in Waukegan. One is deceased.”

  “I see.” Parker could still talk to the family of the latter and possibly get some information.

  He scanned the information.

  Miranda had never told him exactly where she’d been assaulted. The information was locked up in the part of her brain that had been traumatized at the time. She’d been out late at night shopping for ice cream for that bastard of a husband she was married to.

  Parker knew she had to be driving toward the city and he assumed she’d been within ten or fifteen miles of her home. He’d given Demarco those parameters and he’d used them well.

  Each of these candidates either lived or had been arrested in that vicinity. And yet this exercise was a sheer roll of the dice.

  In sexual assault the probability of a repeat offense was high though like Miranda’s case, it may not have been reported. There was no guarantee one of these five was the man he was looking for.

  Demarco echoed his thoughts. “I’ve seen some long shots in my day but I gotta say this is one of the longest.”

  Parker gave him a sad smile. “It’s our specialty.”

  “Would have to be or you wouldn’t have a hope.”

  How true. “Could you have this information sent to my email?”

  “Already done.”

  Of course. The man was nothing if not efficient. “I appreciate your help on this, Sergeant.”

  “I hope you get your man.”

  “Thank you.” Parker thought about Miranda’s request. “Another thing, if I may.”

  “Shoot.”

  “We were wondering about Detective Templeton and her claim on the Sutherland case.”

  Demarco squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Templeton has put a lot of hours on the case. I apologize for not letting you know that.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause friction in your group.”

  Demarco ran a hand over his thin gray hair and let out a huff. “Templeton can cause her own friction. I put the case on the list I sent you. I was intending to move her anyway. She needs to learn to play better with others.”

  “I see.” Parker had had employees like that in the past. Best not to interfere. “If there’s anything I can do to smooth the ruffled feathers.”

  Demarco shook his head. “I’ll take care of Templeton.”

  “Very well. Now if you’ll excuse me, Sergeant, I need to get back to my wife.” Parker rose and started for the door.

  “Parker?” Demarco said before he could open it.

  Parker turned back. “Yes, Sergeant?”

  He shifted the toothpick in his mouth, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s none of my business. But if I was doing something like this—?”

  “What?”

  “When my missus found out there sure would be hell to pay. Just saying.”

  “If she found out,” Parker corrected.

  The toothpick moved as his lip pulled into a wry smirk. “They always find out. You tell yourself they won’t but they always do.”

  The very idea grated on Parker’s nerves. He would not let that happen. “I appreciate your concern, Sergeant. But I know what I’m doing.”

  “If you say so.”

  He did. He would make certain of it.

  He reached for the door, turned back again. “By the way. What do you do around here for lunch?”

  Chapter Ten

  Miranda was finishing up her notes on the last interview when she smelled the glorious scent of take out. She turned around and saw Parker heading for her desk with a cheery red-and-white bag and a couple of sixteen ounce drink cups.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Only the best for my lead investigator.”

  She shoved her papers aside and he set the cups and bag down on the desk. Like a magician doing a trick, he opened the bag and pulled out something wonderful wrapped in waxed paper that matched the bag.

  He handed it to her.

  Gingerly she pulled back the wrapping, inhaled and grinned at the sight. Sea monster green relish with mustard and onion and extra peppers over a genuine red hot tucked into a poppy seed bun.

  She squealed with delight. “A Chicago hot dog. Haven’t had one of these in years.”

  “I thought you told me you were fond of them.”

  “Nothing in the world like them.” She picked hers up and took a big bite. The unique taste of the juicy dog, the condiments, and the snap of the peppers accosted her taste buds. “Mmm. Yum.”

  Parker reached for a napkin and wiped a drop of mustard off the corner of her mouth. “I do enjoy watching you eat something you like.”

  “Glad I can entertain you so easily,” she muttered with her mouth full.

  Parker took out his own dog and they watched each other eat for a while. His manners were as impeccably classy as if he were at a formal seven course dinner. He simply amaz
ed her.

  “Have you gotten anywhere with the file?” he asked when they were nearly finished.

  Miranda glanced at her notes. “You were right about why the case went cold. There were a lot of potential suspects but the police could never get enough to make a charge stick. Lydia dated a lot of different guys. She frequented a local bar and one neighbor said she brought home a variety of lovers.”

  Parker’s brow rose. “As you said before, a party girl.”

  “So it seems. But I can’t find anything that points to a specific guy Lydia was seeing at the time of the fire. Templeton made a few notes but they don’t say much. Oh. Did you find out why Demarco took her off this case?”

  Parker swallowed the last bite of his dog, balled up the wrapper and tossed it into the bag. “He wants her to learn to work better with her colleagues. Apparently she’s a bit hard to get along with.”

  Miranda smirked. “Imagine that.”

  Still something didn’t seem fair about all this. She sighed aloud.

  “Don’t feel bad. Demarco’s decision has nothing to do with us.” He’d read her thoughts.

  “I know it’s just…Never mind. Oh.” She wiped her hands on a napkin and reached for a pair of cards on the desk. “Ellis brought us our keycards.”

  Parker took his and slipped it into his pocket. “Excellent. What’s our next step?”

  She was relieved he was letting her make the decisions again and had agreed it was her turn to be in charge. Up until their last two cases, unless Parker was worried about her and in one of his overprotective moods, he was always fair about that.

  This case might not be exciting, but at least they were back to normal.

  “I’d like to visit the scene,” she told him.

  “Lydia Sutherland’s house?”

  Miranda nodded. “It’s been redone and sold twice since the incident.”

  “We’ll have to get permission from the current owner.”

  She picked up her cell and wiggled it. “Already done. I hung up with him just before you got here with the grub.”

  Parker frowned. “And he doesn’t mind if we come in and examine the rooms?”

  Odd question for him.