by Gerri Hill
She rolled her eyes. How could she not notice her? Jake had a presence about her, an energy. And Nicole was drawn to it.
“She’s definitely not your type.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jake’s eyes opened at the first ring and she rolled over, shoving Cheyenne out of the way. “McCoy,” she said, when she snatched the phone. “Jake. Found another body.”
“Shit. Where?” she asked as she tossed off the covers. “It’s at a goddamn cemetery,” Rick said. “I’m on my way in but, you can get there quicker. It’s out by Sloan’s Lake. You know where that is?”
“Out near Edgewater, right?”
“Yeah. Dispatch said take twenty-sixth.”
“How do we know this is one of ours? ME out there already?”
“No. But it’s a woman, she appears to have been raped. ME’s been dispatched.”
“Okay. Who’s on the scene?”
“Got a unit and a cemetery security guard, as far as I know.”
“Great, a security guard.” She struggled into jeans, her right leg not quite cooperating. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Go easy on them, McCoy.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She pulled a sweatshirt over her head, then looked at Cheyenne. “You need to go outside? I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Cheyenne tucked her head back between her front legs, watching Jake.
“Okay. So, you want to go with me?”
Cheyenne jumped off the bed, tail wagging excitedly. Jake ruffled the dog’s fur then grabbed her keys and jacket, walking out into the dark morning. Hell, she didn’t even know what time it was. She glanced at her watch and groaned. Two o’clock. It would be at least a couple of hours before she got back. Too late to attempt to go back to bed and snatch some sleep. She opened the back door and Cheyenne jumped in, immediately sticking her head between the front seats and swiping Jake with a wet tongue.
“Don’t get so excited. We’re just going for a drive.”
She sped through the dark streets, the traffic unusually light despite it being Friday night. Well, Saturday morning now. She hoped this body was not going to match the others. Working three victims was hard enough. But four? Then the press would be all over it, and everyone got nervous, and then copycats came out. With three, they could still keep it quiet. Maybe.
She found the cemetery without a problem, the cruiser’s flashing lights were seen from blocks away. She noted the Triple A security car parked against the gate and a large, bearded man standing beside it. His uniform looked about ready to pop at the seams.
Jake rolled the windows down halfway, then slammed the door, giving Cheyenne a quick pat. She held up her badge as she walked over to the two uniformed officers.
“Detective McCoy, Special Victims. Where is she?”
“Just inside the gate.”
She looked at the security guard. “You found her?”
“Yeah. Just doing a routine sweep, a drive by. Headlights picked up her white… her white underwear.”
“Okay. You stay here.” She pointed at the two officers. “Come with me, let’s take a look. ME should be here any minute.”
All three shown their flashlights, careful where they walked. “Drag marks,” Jake said.
“There’s a shoe.”
“She was alive when she was being dragged. See this,” she pointed. “Heels were digging in.”
Jake stopped within five feet of the victim and looked around. She was naked from the waist down. White panties were snagged on a bush, as if someone had thrown them after leaving the body. The area was grassy, no chance for shoe prints.
“Lot of blood,” Jake said quietly. “Definitely not a dump.”
They all looked up as headlights approached. The ME’s van. Right behind it was Rick’s black truck.
“Let’s get this area roped off,” Jake said. “We may want to wait until daybreak to get the crime lab out here.”
“I’ll radio dispatch.”
Jake nodded, then walked over to meet Rick.
“Not ours,” she said. “Young woman, twenties, killed here. Probably raped here, too.”
“Crazies out, huh?”
“Two days before the full moon.” Jake flipped open her cell and called their lieutenant. It rang four times before he picked up. “It’s Jake. Rick and I got called to a scene, but it doesn’t match ours. You want us to work this, too, or call in Belcher?”
“No, you guys have your hands full. Go ahead and work the scene tonight. We’ll hand it over to Belcher in the morning. I’ll call him. He’s going to love getting his butt up there on a Saturday.”
“Okay. Sorry to bother you at this hour.”
“Jake?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Back a week, you kinda got thrown into the fray. You holding up okay?”
“Yes, sir. It’s good to be back.”
“Right. We’ll hook up in the morning.”
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, then went to find Rick. He was watching the ME.
“Going to be Belcher’s case.” She nodded at David Gamble, the assistant ME. “How’s it going, Dave?”
“Hey Jake. Good to have you back.”
“Thanks.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “Killed here, right? Not dumped?”
“Definitely killed here. And I’d say only a couple of hours ago. She’s got a lot of vaginal trauma. I’d guess more than one had a go with her.”
“No ID? No purse laying around?”
“No.”
Jake took her flashlight and walked around the area, careful where she stepped. Everything looked clean. The grass was mashed down in places, that was it. Then she cocked her head, staring.
“Rick?”
“Yeah?”
“To your right, about four feet.”
He looked, following the beam of her light. “Paper?” He pulled on gloves, then bent down, picking it up by one corner. “Matchbook,” he said. “The Oasis. Right here in Edgewood.”
“Then we’ll assume that’s where the party started.”
“Maybe we should take this one, Jake. Might have it closed in a couple of days.”
Jake laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re concerned with our conviction rate?”
“Too easy to hand off to Belcher, and it’ll probably beat the hell out of our serial killer.”
“Sorry, Ricky. It’s Belcher’s.” She turned to the ME. “Dave, make sure her clothes get sent to the crime lab. They’re going to come out at first light. Belcher and Moreno will be in touch.”
He only nodded, then pulled out his camera, snapping pictures from several angles.
They walked to the gate where the security guard and the two uniforms waited. “Sorry guys,” Rick said. “But you’re going to have to secure the area until the crime lab gets here.”
“Great. Just what I wanted to do. Hang out in a cemetery.”
“Yeah, well, if anyone in there starts talking to you, ask if they saw what happened.”
“Very funny, Detective.”
Rick laughed as he and Jake walked away. “God, I remember the days of being on patrol.”
Jake nodded. “My patrol days took place in Gunnison. Most excitement we had was during hunting season when everyone drove around with a gun and a case of beer.”
“No murder sprees, huh?”
“We had one homicide during the time I was there. Eighteen-year-old kid found dead up at the college. Stabbed twenty-four times.”
“Let me guess. Argument over some girl?”
“That’s right. Took us about a week to figure it out.”
Rick paused at Jake’s Land Cruiser, affectionately rubbing Cheyenne’s neck. “I swear, Jake. You take this dog everywhere?”
“I asked if she wanted to go. She said yes.”
“You don’t even have the back seats up.”
“What for? Nobody ever sits back there but her.”
Rick patted Cheyenne one
more time, then stepped back. “Okay. I guess I’ll meet you in the morning.”
“If you don’t feel like driving in, Rick, I can handle it. I don’t mind. It shouldn’t take long to brief Belcher.”
“I’d just as soon be there than at home, Jake. Maybe we can go grab a burger for lunch or something.”
Jake nodded. “Sure. See you… what? About eight?”
Rick looked at his watch. “It’s three-thirty. I might get in a few hours sleep. Make it nine.”
“Okay, buddy.”
Jake watched him saunter off, head held low, and she felt sorry for him. Rick had always been one of the most positive persons she’d ever been around. A smile on his face, no matter what. Now, it was hit-and-miss with his smile. And she hated it.
But, really, none of her business. He had to work through his own pain.
She made the drive back to her duplex in silence, shutting off the CD and opening the back windows for Cheyenne. The air was cool, hinting at winter, but she didn’t mind. Cheyenne enjoyed it.
Without warning, Nicole’s face flashed through her mind. They were back in the mountains, the breeze rustling through the pines, and Nicole… opened to her, welcoming her.
“Damn,” she murmured, shaking her head. It was a one-time thing, she told herself. Forget about it.
And she tried. But, without warning, visions of that day crowded in, and Jake let them, remembering Nicole’s touch, Nicole’s response, and… God, those screams that sent chill bumps across Jake’s skin.
Jake glanced in the mirror, seeing Cheyenne’s happy face. “Wouldn’t it be ironic, Cheyenne, if Nicole was the one? Ironic because she’s here in the city, wearing business suits and heels and… too much makeup.” She shook her head again. Not the same woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“The matchbook was sent to the lab for prints.” Jake handed Belcher a piece of paper. “That’s the name of the club. It’s in Edgewood.”
“You know, you could have called me last night. I’d have driven out.”
Jake shrugged. “What was the point? We were already out there.”
Belcher nodded, and they both looked up as Rick walked in looking like he hadn’t slept at all.
“Hey guys. Coffee?”
“It’s made,” Jake said. He only grunted.
“Well, guess I’ll go visit the crime lab, see what turned up. Thanks, Jake.”
“No problem. See you later.”
Rick walked over, blowing into his coffee cup. “It’s cold out. Wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed later.”
Jake stared at him. “You look like hell.”
“Couldn’t go back to sleep. My tossing and turning apparently woke Michele, which caused a fight.”
“You talk?”
“Yeah. When I left, she was packing a bag and going to her mother’s.”
“Oh, no. Her mother hates you.”
“Yeah. Can’t wait for that phone call.”
“So, you want to talk about it?”
Rick shook his head. “No. I just want to forget about it.” He sat down. “Belcher okay with this case?”
“Yeah. He’s so okay with it, he’s not even asking Moreno to come in today.”
Rick smiled. “You wouldn’t do that for me, though.”
“Hell, no. If I’ve got to be here on a Saturday, so do you.”
Rick sipped from his coffee, then motioned to her desk. “I see you’ve got Dr. Westbrook’s files out. What are you looking for?”
“Don’t really know. Most of this is just notes from their sessions. The doc’s take on things. Sandra Poole seemed to be the least receptive to therapy. At least at the beginning.” Jake flipped through the pages. “But at the end, Dr. Westbrook lists her as ‘extremely positive attitude’.” Jake sat back. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here. There is no link other than the crisis center and Dr. Westbrook.”
“So we can assume someone is killing women who have been referred from the crisis center to Dr. Westbrook.”
“But who could get their hands on that information? And why?”
“Someone at the crisis center? Surely they have records. What about Dr. Westbrook’s secretary? She would have access.”
Jake shook her head. “Did you see her face when she was printing out these files? She was very protective of the information. My guess is that was the first time Dr. Westbrook authorized the release of anything.”
“So let’s go talk to Patrice Kane again.” Rick stood up. “You think she’s there on a Saturday?”
“I’d bet she probably lives there. She seemed very dedicated.”
———
The traffic was light, and Jake drove them through the city quickly. Again, the parking lot at the Women’s Crisis Center was overflowing. Even the visitors’ spots were full.
“Must have been a busy night.”
Jake parked on the street nearly a block away, and they walked back side-by-side, Rick occasionally bumping Jake’s shoulder.
“Such a kid,” she murmured.
“How’s the leg today?”
“It’s fine. Will you quit worrying about it?”
“You’re limping again.”
“I told you, it’s from sitting in the goddamn car. That, and the cold doesn’t exactly help.”
Rick stopped. “Are you PMSing? I’ve gotten off track with you being gone and all.”
Jake rolled her eyes. “Trust me, you don’t only irritate me when I’m PMSing.” She walked on. “And I don’t PMS.”
“The hell you don’t.”
The small lobby was crowded. Jake looked around and noticed young mothers with crying children, older women with red, puffy eyes. Yes, must have been a busy night. Connie was again at the reception desk.
“Good morning, Connie.”
“Detectives. Back so soon?”
“We wanted to bother Ms. Kane again. If she’s got a second.”
“She’s with someone right now, Detective. If you care to wait,” she said, motioning to the lobby, “I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Jake smiled and nodded. “Thanks very much.”
There was only one seat available and Rick gallantly offered it to her, but she shook her head.
“I’ll stand here with you, thanks.”
“Good. Because it kinda makes me nervous with all these women, you know,” he whispered.
“I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”
“What do you think happened, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at her,” he said, with a quick toss of his head. “Black eye, busted lip.”
“Well what the fuck do you think happened?”
“But, why didn’t she call the cops?”
“Because he beats her and threatens her and she’s afraid to call the cops, why do you think?” she said, her voice rising.
“Don’t yell.”
“I’m not yelling. But Jesus, I can’t understand how some women allow this to happen,” she said quietly. “I’d beat the shit out of anybody that did that to me.”
“Yeah, well, you could beat the shit out of someone. Look at her. She’s tiny. Her husband’s probably a six-foot-tall asshole with a beer gut.”
Jake’s reply was cut short by Patrice Kane’s voice.
“Detective McCoy?”
“I guess she doesn’t see me here,” Rick muttered.
Jake poked him in the ribs and walked forward, nodding politely at Patrice. “Ms. Kane, sorry to bother you again. But we just have a couple of things.”
“Of course. Anyway I can help.” She turned back down the hallway. “Come back to my office.”
The office was just as cluttered as the first time they were there, and Jake moved files off of one of the visitors’ chairs before sitting down.
“Sorry about that, but it’s been crazy today.”
“Are the weekends usually like this?”
“Yes. More so around a full moon.”
“Do you work seven days a week?”
Patrice smiled. “I could ask you the same thing, detective?”
“Yeah. Kinda work when you’re needed, I guess.”
“Exactly.” She leaned back. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, we visited with Dr. Westbrook. She was kind enough to talk with us about the three murders we’re investigating.” Jake met her eyes. “We’ve concluded that the only connection between them is your crisis center and Dr. Westbrook. What we’d like is a list of people you’ve referred to Dr. Westbrook in the last three years.”
Patrice shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
Jake sighed. “We don’t want information on them, you’d be breaching no confidences. We’d just like a list of names.”
“I’m sorry, Detective.”
“They might be in danger,” Jake said, her voice rising.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to help you. I would. But look around. We’re not exactly automated.”
“What are you saying? You don’t have a list of referrals?”
“No. If we refer someone and they are accepted, it’s noted in their file… their paper file… and put up. There’s not a computer record.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?”
“I wish I were. But our budget is extremely limited. Not to mention staffing. There hasn’t been time to put everything in a database. Don’t think we’ve not talked about it. It comes up every year. And every year, the money is best used elsewhere.”
Jake leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her head. “Okay. So what are the chances that Dr. Westbrook keeps a running list of your referrals?”
“Probably much better than ours. Her secretary, Catherine, is very efficient. However, Nicole Westbrook is a stickler for doctor-patient privilege. I’m surprised she even spoke with you about her patients.”
Jake smiled. “Well, it took a little prodding.”
Patrice nodded and winked at Jake. “I’m sure it did.”
Jake grinned, then followed a hunch. “Are you and Dr. Westbrook… friends as well as colleagues?”
Patrice glanced quickly at Rick then back to Jake. “I’ve been around her socially, yes.”
“Good. So what do you think the chances are of her giving up her files?”
