Save Her Child: A completely gripping and suspenseful crime thriller (Jericho and Wright Thrillers Book 3)

by CJ Lyons

  “We’ll do everything we can, Maggie. Doesn’t matter that it’s Harper’s first case as lead, I’ll make sure—”

  Her glare blazed brighter than the halogen lights surrounding them. “See that you do. She deserves your best.”

  He nodded, a solemn vow. “Call me when you get an ID confirmed.”

  “I will.” She slung her camera case higher up onto her shoulder. “You want to make the notification or should I?”

  Usually the coroner’s investigator notified the family of a loved one’s death. But Luka preferred to be there for cases under his jurisdiction. Not only because it was often a family member or someone intimately involved in the victim’s life who was responsible for their death, but also because seeing the family’s faces, hearing them talk about their loved one’s life, all helped Luka to better understand the victim. For him, that was vital in forming an understanding of the crime.

  “I’ll do it. With Harper.” Death notifications were the most difficult part of the job, and he knew Harper wouldn’t like it, but this was her case now. The dead girl belonged to her.

  He’d fought for Harper’s promotion—she’d passed all her exams with flying colors, but several high-ranking officers had questioned her attitude. Luka had interceded and the brass had grudgingly added her name to the promotions list, assigning her to Luka’s squad, warning him that any problems Harper created would be his to solve.

  “She’s ready,” Maggie said, effortlessly reading his expression.

  “I hope so,” he murmured. Maggie joined her team in the coroner’s van while Luka donned booties and gloves. Then he stepped past the barricade and entered the alley. Harper had been crouching, sketching the crime scene, but quickly stood when she saw him.

  “Sir. They just removed the body.” She sounded abashed, as if she’d already made a mistake. “I didn’t want to delay—”

  “Of course not.” He nodded his approval, hoping she’d relax and perform like the competent investigator he knew her to be.

  Luka still remembered his first case as lead. A homeless man’s burnt remains had been found in an oil drum in an abandoned warehouse down by the river. With all forensics destroyed it had seemed like the kind of case that might never be closed. It had taken him months of painstaking investigation, widening his circle of suspects until he’d eventually determined that five high school kids from Cambria Preparatory Academy, an exclusive private school across the river, just outside city limits, had taken a “bum-bashing” spree too far. Despite his meticulously documented case, the DA had declined to prosecute on the murder, instead allowing all five to plead out to lesser charges. Justice often had little to do with the practice of law, Luka had learned, the lesson driving him to work even harder.

  Shaking away the bitter memory, he told Harper, “Give me the bullet.”

  “Yes, sir.” Harper used her phone to access the department’s secure cloud account and pulled up photos of their victim in situ, before the body was moved. “We have an unknown female, found at approximately 3:26 a.m. by patrol officers after an anonymous 911 call. Caller was female, Dispatch said she used an unregistered cell phone. I’ll be asking for cell tower records to trace any calls from the time so hopefully we can get a location.”

  All standard procedure. Luka examined the girl’s injuries. Beaten to a pulp was an understatement. An attack like that—no way it wasn’t personal. Their victim knew her killer, he was certain. “Maggie said you made a tentative ID?”

  “She has the same tattoo as a girl I met while working a Vice operation. Seventeen-year-old, name was Lily Nolan. Maggie’s going to run the prints, see if it’s her or not. Maggie also said the blows appeared to be inflicted by a blunt instrument, but she’ll have more information after the autopsy.”

  “Murder weapon?”

  They both glanced around the alley and its abundance of possible weapons: loose paving bricks, lengths of rebar, stray two-by-fours broken off from shipping pallets.

  “I asked CSU to bag and tag anything that might be a possibility.”

  Luka pointed to the initial photos of the body, the ones taken before Maggie began her examination. Their victim was partially covered with a blood-spattered length of plastic sheeting. “What do you make of the body being covered?”

  “At first, I thought the killer draped it over her body after he’d killed her—like a sign of remorse, covering her up. Or he’d used it to move her body here after killing her elsewhere.” Luka frowned and she continued, “But then I realized the only way to get that much blood on the sheet but not the surrounding alley was if he first incapacitated her—maybe with the blow to her face that caused the bloody nose—and while she was down, he threw the plastic over her and bludgeoned her in a blitz attack.”

  “Why?”

  “To protect any blood from spraying onto him. If you look closely, you can see pattern marks from the blows. I’ve asked the CSU guys to compare them to our possible weapons.”

  He nodded, agreeing with her theory—contingent on what the medical examiner found during the autopsy. “Next steps?”

  “Cell tower warrants, finish canvassing for witnesses and any surveillance cameras that might have caught our victim or our killer, confirm ID, check with Vice and patrol to see if there’s been any recent unusual activity in the area, and track down any family and known associates.”

  It was a good plan, although Luka doubted she would get very far with any of her action items, not on a Sunday morning. Except Maggie was on the job, so that would help. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

  Three

  Dr. Leah Wright glanced at her schedule. If they were going to do everything the kids wanted, she’d need to be in two places at once. Her daughter, Emily, and Luka’s nephew, Nate, were both in front of her as they walked across the grassy field that served as a parking lot for the annual Craven County Fair. Emily and Nate had their heads together, peering at the map, planning their day. Trailing behind Leah, already bored, was Ruby, Leah’s mother and reluctant childcare-helper.

  She traced her finger down the list of events. Today, the final day of the fair, was devoted to children. Poultry showmanship. Junior dressage and roping competitions. Quilting bee and auction. Small engine repair race followed by a tractor pull. Candle-making class. Livestock judging. And, the highlight of the day as far as Nate and Emily were concerned: the food and arts competition judging. Followed by a pie-eating contest, chili cook-off, and auctioning the various homegrown vegetables and other food items the children had entered into competition.

  Leah hoisted her knapsack higher on her shoulder and reached for her water bottle. It was just past nine in the morning and already the temperature hovered around eighty-five. August in the central Pennsylvania mountains was known for its hazy, hot, and humid days, but this summer had felt particularly stifling. Some days it was a struggle for each breath. Although maybe it wasn’t only the weather. Leah’s husband, Ian, had been murdered in February and now, six months later, she still woke every day expecting to see his face beside her. And then, three seconds after she opened her eyes, an awful emptiness devoured her as reality came crashing down.

  The kids reached the line at the ticket booth and waited for Leah to catch up. “Ruby said if we were good, we could get funnel cakes,” Emily said. “And then she said we could get kettle corn.”

  “And apple fritters,” Nate chimed in. “Don’t forget those. I promised Luka and Janine and Pops I’d bring some home for them.” Nate had left Baltimore after his mother, Luka’s sister, had died, to move in with Luka, Luka’s elderly grandfather, and Janine, their live-in healthcare aide who kept the entire family running.

  “Right.” Emily was already buzzing with a pre-sugar rush, bouncing on her toes. She’d recently turned seven but still was much shorter than Nate, who was eight. “And we need to ride the carousel and the whirl-a-tilt and—”

  “I want to see the horses,” Nate put in.

  Emily nodded. “And we need to
be at our ribbon-winning. Of course.”

  They both nodded and stared at Leah as if she could alter physics to allow them to do everything in one day.

  Leah’s phone buzzed and both kids groaned when she pulled it out to glance at the message. The lab with an update on a sexual assault case she’d handled earlier in the week. It was all good news for the survivor, but Emily tugged at her hand. “You’re not leaving to go back to work, are you?”

  Leah smiled. “Nope. I’m yours all day long.” Despite still being on call for emergencies in her position as medical director of Good Samaritan’s Crisis Intervention Center, Leah’s new job definitely gave her more time with Emily than her previous life as an ER physician had. Still, there were some days… okay, most days… when she missed her work on the frontlines. Although one unexpected perk of working at the CIC was its fledgling partnership with Cambria City’s police department, giving Leah an occasional chance to work in the field interviewing traumatized witnesses and helping with emotionally disturbed persons; she was even taking a course in hostage negotiation.

  She bought their tickets and Ruby’s and they crossed into the fairgrounds. The empty field that was part of Craven Peak State Forest had been transformed into the claustrophobic cacophony of a carnival sideshow. The layout forced them down a long stretch of games and concession stands lined with vendors hawking a variety of things that no one needed, but nonetheless everyone still gathered to listen to their mesmerizing spiels and some would eventually buy. All the same useless gadgets and gizmos that they’d sold when Leah was a kid—and that she’d saved her allowance to buy, certain that the ‘guaranteed to write in zero gravity’ astronaut-certified pen would garner her straight As or that the X-ray glasses would grant her magical powers of observation.

  It felt strange that this was the first time she’d ever come to the fair with her own mother. Ruby had left Leah in the care of Leah’s great-aunt, Nellie, when Leah was eleven. But after Ian was killed, Leah had returned with Emily to live at the farm Nellie had bequeathed Leah, and Ruby had joined them, somehow inserting herself back into Leah’s life. Their relationship was still strained by two decades of things not said, along with Leah’s fear that sooner or later Ruby would betray Emily’s trust in her, but they were making it work. Kind of. For now.

  “What makes you so sure you won any ribbons?” Ruby asked the kids in a teasing tone. Emily had recreated several of Nellie’s chocolate truffle recipes using the lavender and roses grown at the farm, leaving a mouth-watering aroma perfuming the kitchen for weeks as she experimented. Luka had finally given Nate his own phone, one with the best camera available, and Nate had devoured YouTube videos on using it to document his new environment. Then Luka had printed the photos Nate chose and he’d framed them.

  Not wanting them to be disappointed, Leah had warned both kids that it wasn’t likely that they would win anything. The Craven County Fair did not award prizes merely for participation. Emily and Nate were up against older kids who’d spent years in 4H and had generations of blue-ribbon winners to coach them.

  It’d been nerve-racking, waiting all week for the judging today. She had no idea how she was going to face the kids if they didn’t win something, even the lowest honorable mention. “If you don’t win—” she started, only to be interrupted by Emily.

  “We’re winning. We’re winning everything.” Emily’s confidence constantly amazed Leah. And reminded her of Ian. She felt a sharp stab to the heart, wishing he was there to see their daughter, hoping that maybe he was. Leah wasn’t religious, but that didn’t stop her from believing in Ian. If anyone could force their spirit to linger with their family after death, it was Ian.

  “Blue ribbon, blue ribbon, blue ribbon,” Emily chanted, taking Nate’s arm and doing a quick do-si-do.

  Leah glanced at Ruby, who simply gave her a smug smile. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

  Those words had never brought comfort to Leah when she was a child—mostly because they were never true. At least never when Ruby spoke them. Leah gritted her teeth and swallowed the memories, leaving a taste of bitter ash behind. “What makes you so sure?”

  Ruby slowed her pace, letting the kids get a few steps ahead of them, the tinny music blaring from the stands masking her tone. “I have a certain friend who has insider knowledge. He assured me, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Really?”

  Ruby nodded as the kids returned.

  “Mom, can we—”

  And so it began… Leah allowed herself to be tugged down the midway, her mind already reeling from the crowds and constant barrage of sensory overstimulation, but she smiled anyway. As long as the kids were happy, what was one day?

  After all, it was Fair. Heralding the last magical week of summer freedom before school began. Nothing bad ever happened during Fair.

  Four

  Harper wasn’t certain if Luka was babysitting her or helping her. In the spring, she’d worked with his Violent Crimes Unit while still a patrol officer, so she knew that Luka got involved with all of his unit’s cases, especially at the start. But this felt different. It felt like a test. Why else would a detective sergeant spend hours slogging through the heat, tramping up and down urine-stained staircases, simply to help her with the scut work of canvassing the Towers for potential witnesses? Now that she’d finally made detective, she’d hoped that the constant feeling of being judged would vanish, but no such luck.

  Somewhere in the middle of their door-knock on the fourth floor, Maggie had texted, confirming Lily’s identity. No driver’s license, but several arrests for solicitation and drug possession, current address unknown. Lily had turned eighteen just a few days ago—the same day Harper had been promoted, she couldn’t help but note, the irony only adding to her sense of frustration at such a young life taken. More than frustration: an anger that tasted bitter and raw.

  As was usual with the Towers, no one had seen anything, no one could identify their victim, and no one remembered anything unusual about the night. The most they got was from an elderly man in the second-floor apartment whose bedroom overlooked the alley. He thought he heard a woman crying when he got up to go to the bathroom, but he couldn’t remember what time and he didn’t look out of his window; by the time he returned to bed, it was quiet.

  “Maybe it wasn’t a woman,” he’d told Harper, squinting through thick lenses. “Could of been an alley cat. I don’t know, not for sure.”

  She and Luka left, trudging down the graffiti-covered staircase.

  “He was the best of the lot.” She stifled a sigh, wishing she hadn’t worn a jacket over her blouse and slacks, but she was a detective now and felt the need to look the role, even if it was hot as Hades.

  They exited through the Towers’ front door, brushing past youths sitting on the steps, several barely bothering to hide their drug paraphernalia. The sun now blazed over the mountaintops to the east, the air thick and heavy, promising another scorching day.

  As they walked around the corner to return to the alley crime scene, Harper noted the paucity of security cameras without surprise: the gangs who ruled the Towers destroyed them as soon as they were placed, paying bounties to young kids who spotted them. Despite its location, nestled in the idyllic Allegheny Mountains, Cambria City, like many down-and-out rust-belt towns, still faced its share of crime wrought by enterprising groups of young men. While the gangs that ran the Kingston Towers and surrounding neighborhood weren’t as vicious or well-organized as the more violent MS-13 or the drug cartels that plagued larger neighboring cities like Baltimore, DC, and Philly, the Towers’ factions definitely contributed more than their fair share of grief to the community.

  Luka stopped, hands deep in his pockets as they watched the CSU team pack up, taking one last look at the scene in the daylight. Without the harsh glare of the work lights the alley returned once more to what it always had been: a squalid, shadowy, lonely place to die.

  And an easy place to potentially get aw
ay with murder, Harper realized grimly.

  “What did I miss?” she swallowed her pride to ask.

  He glanced at her, obviously surprised. “Do you think you missed something?”

  “Luka, she was thrown away with the garbage. I really want to know. What more can I do?”

  “Nothing until we retrace her steps, see if anyone had reason to kill her—”

  “Yeah, yeah. The three Ps.” It was the first lesson she’d learned working with him. Murder motives boiled down to passion, profit, or power. “She didn’t have any cash or valuables on her, so could have been a robbery gone wrong. As for power or passion—”

  “Pimp angry with her?” he suggested. “Maybe she wanted out of the life. Or she just pissed him off.” Sex workers were all too disposable; there was always more supply to fill a trafficker’s demand.

  “Same could go for a john. Wanted more than he paid for or she was prepared to give and…” They stood side by side, the morning heat turning the odors emanating from the alley into a rancid stew too foul to breathe. She rolled her shoulders, a list of her next steps forming in her mind. “I’ll start with the local girls. I know where they hang out from my time with Vice. Hopefully by then we’ll have traced her next of kin.”

  Luka’s phone buzzed—not for the first time this morning, since he was the supervisor on call for the weekend, covering not only the VCU but also the other investigatory units. “Patrol needs me to sign off on another scene. Call me when you know anything and we’ll do the death knock together.” He walked away, heading to his car.

  Harper couldn’t stop staring at the spot on the pavement where Lily’s body had been found. Luka would help—as would Ray Acevedo and Scott Krichek, the other two detectives with the VCU—but this was her case, her responsibility.