by Gerri Hill
“Well, one of the secretaries takes my notes and puts together the file for the computer.” He gave them a sly smile as he took his glasses off. “I don’t trust those damn computers. You never know who all is out there in the World Wide Web.” He put his glasses back on before continuing. “Not sure I trust the whole process really—a secretary, most likely without a college education, is writing up something as important as an autopsy report. No sir. Probably doesn’t even spell half the words right.”
Cameron sighed and grabbed the bridge of her nose. “Andi,” she said quietly. “Do something.”
Andrea cleared her throat. “Dr. Agnew, if we could take a look at your hard copy, then perhaps compare it to the electronic version, that would be helpful. Maybe even make a copy of your file. We want to be thorough,” she said with a smile.
He nodded. “You can have a copy of mine, sure. But you’ll have to get one of the secretaries to get you the one off of the computer.”
“Great, not a problem,” Andrea said as she glanced at Cameron.
“Do you remember if she had any tattoos or piercings?” Cameron asked.
“That’ll be in my notes. I don’t recall,” he said as he sorted through his keys.
“And she was Caucasian?”
“Yes,” he said, opening one of the file cabinets and thumbing through what appeared to be color-coded files. “Here it is. Yes, Jane Doe 23.” He handed it to Andrea. “The head was removed post-mortem,” he said. “Sexual trauma, as noted. This one was odd in that she had a strange mixture of drugs in her system.”
“How so?”
“High dose of phenobarbital, which is used to euthanize animals. Sleep aid. And cocaine, if I recall.”
“Cause of death?”
“There were no obvious injuries to the body that would have caused death. She had ligature marks on her wrists and feet, indicating she was bound. The amount of phenobarbital in her system, well, based on her weight, I would assume it was enough to kill, although I’m not positive. Obviously, it’s used in animals that weigh far less than a human.”
“You list cause of death as drug overdose,” Andrea said as she skimmed the file.
“Yes.”
“But you’re saying the phenobarbital wasn’t enough to kill her?” Cameron said.
“With the mixture of drugs she had in her system, who knows?”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying you settled on drug overdose because there was no conclusive cause of death?”
“What are you implying, Agent Ross?”
“Did she die of a drug overdose, did she die from phenobarbital or is it inconclusive?”
“Does it really make a difference? I’ve listed it as a homicide. Her head was missing.”
“Of course it makes a difference,” Cameron said loudly. “A defense attorney would have you for lunch with this.”
“Young lady, I have been through my share of defense attorneys, thank you very much. They don’t scare me.”
“Dr. Agnew, if we do have a suspect who lives long enough to go to court, we’ll need to prove COD. Beyond a shadow of a doubt,” she added.
“Excuse me,” Andrea interrupted as she read through the file. “Two small burn marks at the base of her neck, above the shoulder.” She raised her eyebrow. “Stun gun? Taser?”
“I don’t recall.” He held his hand out. “Let me see that.”
Andrea glanced at her, giving her a slight smile. Cameron returned it. How could she not? The situation was bordering on comical.
“Yes. They were beginning to scab over, but yes, a Taser could have made those marks.” He grinned. “So too could a vampire.”
“Oh dear God,” Cameron murmured.
“I’m kidding, of course,” Dr. Agnew said with a chuckle. “Let’s go with stun gun. That would be easier to prove to your defense attorney,” he added as he smirked at Cameron.
“A Taser usually doesn’t leave a mark,” Andrea said. “Unless it was administered at very close range. What is your opinion?”
“Judging by the size of the wound, I would say it was a repeated action at very close range, yes.” He glanced at Cameron. “The stun gun, not the vampire.”
Cameron sighed as she’d had enough of this conversation with the peculiar Dr. Agnew. She stood, urging Andrea to do the same.
“May I have a copy?” Andrea said, motioning to the file he now held.
“Of course. Let’s go out front, and I’ll have one of the ladies copy that for you. If you want them to email you the other file, they can do that too.” He grinned. “Or so I’m told.”
They followed him back out the way they’d come. Cameron bumped Andrea’s shoulder playfully and leaned closer.
“You want to take the vampire angle? That could be fun.”
“Hush,” Andrea whispered as she elbowed Cameron away from her. Their eyes met for a moment and Cameron saw matching amusement in Andrea’s. She smiled affectionately at her before again slipping into her professional role.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was well after six when they drove into Indio and the temperature had yet to dip below the century mark. She could see the heat waves radiating off of the pavement and Andrea glanced at Cameron, wondering where they would park for the night. She’d called Dr. Copeland earlier and they were scheduled to meet him at nine in the morning. He was kind enough to email them his report so they’d have a chance to compare it to Dr. Agnew’s.
“City park?” Andrea suggested.
“We could always find an RV resort with full hookups,” Cameron said. “Running the AC nonstop will drain our solar batteries in a hurry.”
Andrea touched the console screen, loving that she had Internet and a browser at her fingertips. “I’ll find one.”
Cameron sighed. “I miss Sedona.”
“Yeah? Sonny Winfield had you spoiled?”
“It was a great place to park, wasn’t it? A few junipers, some oaks. Great view.”
“And temperatures below a hundred,” Andrea added. “This is brutal.”
“Yeah. And I don’t foresee this being a quick and tidy case.”
“Okay, here’s one. The Thorny Cactus RV Park,” she said. “Sounds sleazy.”
“Check the price. That will let you know whether it’s a local joint with a lot of permanent residents or not.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Monthly rates at least seven hundred. That’ll be a real resort.”
“Then we’ll skip The Thorny Cactus. They only want two-fifty.” She went back to her search, finding another. “Mojave Luxury Resort. Eight-twenty-five a month.”
“That’s more like it.”
“Pool. That sounds great, doesn’t it?”
“Do you have a suit?”
“No. Do you?”
Cameron shook her head. “Skinny-dip?”
“Sure. We can add getting arrested to Murdock’s list of rules we’ve broken today.”
“We didn’t get a ticket,” Cameron reminded her.
“Only because the meter maid was lying in the street from the electric shock she got.”
Cameron grinned. “It was funny, wasn’t it?”
Andrea laughed. “Yeah, it was. You were quite helpful. She’d just gotten knocked on her ass from the shock, and she was still able to flirt with you.”
“She wasn’t flirting.”
“The piece of paper she handed you wasn’t her phone number?” The onboard GPS kicked in, silently directing them to the resort. Andrea had muted Clair’s voice the first day. “Looks like four blocks to the north and you’ll turn right,” she said.
“Okay. And she only gave me her phone number in case we needed help with something.”
“Sure she did.”
Cameron gave her a cocky smile. “Well, what was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”
“Of course not. Drop-dead gorgeous meter maids don’t come along every day.” Even though they were teasing, Andrea still felt a tiny bit of jealo
usy and she hated it. Truth was, Cameron wasn’t really flirting, she was simply helping the woman to her feet and offering apologies. The woman—who was drop-dead gorgeous—had batted her eyes and had nearly ended up drooling on Cameron’s feet. Andrea stared at Cameron now, her beautiful smooth tan face, the unruly sandy blond hair, which was in need of a trim, the smile playing on her lips. No, she couldn’t blame the woman for fawning over her. Back in Sedona, Andrea had resisted Cameron for a whole week before falling for her charms.
“You’re staring,” Cameron accused. “What are you thinking?”
“None of your business. Turn here,” she said.
“You could put Clair on so you wouldn’t have to monitor it.”
Andrea laughed. “Your affair with Clair is over, remember. I’ll be your GPS voice. It looks like it’s about five, six blocks down.”
“Andi,” Cameron said quietly.
“Hmm?” Andrea met her eyes, already knowing what Cameron’s question would be.
“Can we have pizza for dinner?”
“Seriously?”
“Please? I’ve seen signs. Local joints, the chains. It’s been like a week since we’ve had it.”
“It’s been four days.” Then she laughed. “No. It’s been two. You grabbed a couple of slices when we stopped for fuel in Flagstaff.”
“That hardly counts.”
“Your obsession with pizza is bordering on, well, an obsession,” she said. She also knew they would indeed have pizza for dinner. Pizza and sweet red wine. Normally they’d talk. Cameron telling her stories from her military days, Andrea sharing events when working for LAPD. She could talk freely now about her team, about Erin and Mark, without the guilt suffocating her. Tonight, though, they’d talk about the case and they would most likely go over Dr. Copeland’s file so they’d be prepared in the morning. And she wanted to take a better look at the database on the highway killings. Now that she had FBI credentials, she wouldn’t be as limited. Cameron also said she wanted to give Jason at Quantico a call so she could understand how to use the algorithms with this new case. So yes, pizza would be in order.
“I currently only have one obsession,” Cameron said, interrupting her thoughts as she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, causing Andrea to smile. “Now this looks like a resort,” Cameron murmured as she turned into the complex. “And look. A pizza place right across the road.”
“How convenient is that?”
“Why do I always feel so stupid after talking to Jason?” she asked as she reached for a piece of pizza.
“I think computer geeks enjoy doing that to us common folks,” Andrea said. “But did you learn anything?”
“Oh, hell, he logged in remotely and is tweaking it because he was afraid I’d jack it up.” She held her pizza up. “This is pretty good for a local joint.”
Andrea only flicked her eyes at her, causing Cameron to laugh. Their good-natured battle over pizza was mostly for show. Andrea was quickly becoming a connoisseur.
Cameron took the recliner, mimicking Andrea’s position on the loveseat with a laptop balanced on her legs. Minus one cat, of course, as Lola was busy begging from Andrea.
“Anything jump out at you on the autopsy report?” she asked.
Andrea shook her head. “They read surprisingly the same, except for the tox reports. Both had sexual trauma. Both had phenobarbital, but Dr. Copeland’s doesn’t mention any other drugs.”
“So no sleep aid or cocaine,” she said. “That indicates the first girl was a user.”
Andrea nodded. “The concentration of phenobarbital was a lot higher on Dr. Copeland’s girl. He listed that as cause of death.”
“The other—Jane Doe 23—already had drugs in her system. Maybe it didn’t take as much,” she suggested.
“True. But would he have known that? Wouldn’t he already have had a syringe set up?”
“Maybe he’s really cruel. Maybe he administers it drip by drip, slowly, so they know what’s coming.”
“Or maybe the dose he administered to Jane Doe 23 was the norm. Maybe it wasn’t enough for the second victim, and he had to give her a second shot.”
“Logical, I suppose, if this is his first experimentation with it,” Cameron conceded. “Not nearly as cruel as mine though.”
“And I suppose we are looking for cruel and nasty since we don’t have heads.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “We also need to consider the vet angle.”
“You mean a rogue veterinarian murdering women?”
Andrea smiled. “Well, I was really just thinking of one whose clinic was broken into and had drugs stolen.” She shrugged. “Of course, we can go with your rogue vet if you’d like.”
“Again, yours is more logical. And probable,” she said. “I’ll email Murdock and ask him to run a check.” She watched as Andrea’s eyes scrolled across her screen. “Are you still looking over the reports?”
“No. I’m actually in the database. It’s really fascinating.” She looked up. “Murdock was right. Most of it is concentrated in the east but California has its share as well. Some of this information goes back thirty years.”
“Headless victims?”
“Yes, some. Also heads found but no bodies to match. Torso minus the legs. Legs and arms found, no other body parts.” She shook her head. “People are crazy.”
“Indeed.”
Andrea’s brow drew together as her eyes still scanned the screen. “Listen to this,” she said, glancing up quickly. “Eight years ago a headless body was found between Barstow and Needles, on I-40. She was ID’d by fingerprints. A prostitute. Connie Bernstein, age twenty-four.”
“Fender lizard, as our very helpful cop from Barstow calls them,” Cameron said.
“Yeah. But that’s not all. Over a two-month period, four bodies in all were found, same as this. Two on I-40, one on I-10 and one on I-15, between Barstow and Vegas. Two were ID’d, two remain unidentified.” She shook her head before Cameron could ask. “No, none in the same location as our two. The one on I-15 was much closer to Vegas.”
“Same MO? Wrapped in a tarp?”
“No. Wrapped in sheets. No mention of phenobarbital though. The other girl who was identified was also a prostitute. She worked out of Las Vegas. Connie Bernstein worked a truck stop outside of Needles.”
“Four bodies. Why did he stop? Serial killers don’t stop.”
“Maybe he goes underground for a while like Patrick did.”
“For eight years? Doubtful.”
“So maybe he couldn’t kill,” Andrea said. “There’s only one place that can prevent you from it.”
“Prison.”
“Yes. Maybe he was convicted of another crime, was locked up for eight years—”
“And is now out and carrying on his killing.”
“Yeah.” Andrea set her laptop aside. “Plausible?”
“Sure it is. Just don’t know if it helps us.”
“Why not? We find inmates who went in eight years ago and were just released, say, in the last six months.”
“Released from where? In this area? In California? In Arizona? Nevada? You’re talking thousands, Andi.”
Andrea leaned back with a sigh, nodding when Cameron offered her more wine. “With all of our forensics and technology available today, how can we possibly have a crime scene without any evidence? I mean, a fingerprint smudge on the plastic at least. But no. Nothing. No fibers, no hair.”
“Our second victim has tattoos,” Cameron said. “Maybe that’ll help with an ID.”
“Haven’t they already run that through Missing Persons?”
“Yes. I was thinking maybe we could show it around. Maybe some of the busy truck stops.”
“So you like my eight-year-hiatus theory? That he’s back and going after hookers again?”
“Well, the MO is not exactly the same. We have plastic now, not a sheet. And phenobarbital wasn’t used either. But it’s someplace to start.”
“You know, if we think it’s a hooker, I
could always go undercover. Hit some of the trucker hangouts.”
Cameron was surprised by the sudden panic she felt in her gut and she shook her head. “No way.”
“Why not? We might get lucky.”
Cameron stood, nearly pacing now as she envisioned Andrea dressed up like a hooker, trying to lure their serial killer to her. She met Andrea’s gaze head-on. “No. Absolutely not.”
She wondered what look she had on her face as Andrea studied her quietly. Finally one eyebrow shot up.
“You want to talk?”
The words were spoken softly, and Cameron was afraid by what Andrea meant by them. Talk? Talk about the case? Or talk? She looked away, trying to buy time.
“Cameron, sweetheart, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I thought we were talking,” she said, hoping to appease her. The look in Andrea’s eyes told her she had not.
“Cameron, something’s going on with you. I can see it, so don’t tell me nothing is wrong.”
Cameron took a deep breath, trying to keep her expression as normal as possible, even managing a smile. “Really, I’m fine. Just trying to focus on the case.” They both knew she was lying, but Andrea’s next question surprised her.
“Do you love me, Cameron?”
Again, she felt like someone had punched her in the gut. “God, yes. Why would you ask?”
“Why don’t you ever tell me?”
“I tell you,” she said. “I tell you all the time.”
But Andrea shook her head. “No, you don’t. You say ‘me too.’ But you never say the words. In fact, I don’t think you’ve said those three words since we left Sedona.”
Cameron felt her chest tighten, and at that moment she wanted to be anywhere other than stuck inside the motor home having this conversation. She must have had a look of panic on her face, and she guessed Andrea thought she was about to bolt from the rig. Andrea got up and took her hands, her smile as reassuring as if she were talking to a frightened child.
“Cameron, I don’t mean to imply that you don’t love me. I know you do. I see it when you look at me. I feel it when you touch me, when we make love.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Cameron asked weakly.
“Tell me why you won’t say the words.”
