Ties That Bind

by Anne Patrick

  "Good idea."

  Austin glanced over and found her staring out at the passing scenery. "You okay?"

  She turned toward him and nodded. "I was just thinking. According to the file you sent, none of the bodies have defensive wounds. It's unlikely they were all passive during the initial attack."

  "None of the toxicology screens showed anything out of the ordinary, which limits the possibilities of how he subdued the victims. Maybe a blow to the back of the head or a taser gun, the prods striking her in the neck? They'd have to be a pretty good shot, though."

  "Both are good possibilities. That's one of the things I want to check out during the autopsy."

  "What else are you looking to find?"

  "I noticed the appearance of light stretch marks along her abdomen. I'm guessing she's a mother," she said.

  He'd noticed that as well. He hoped they were wrong. There were enough kids out there growing up without their mothers. "Did you find anything else?"

  "No," she spoke softly. Returning his gaze to the road, it was several seconds before she added, "Without a crime scene, we've nothing to really go on. He knows this, that's why the bodies are being staged. He's taunting us."

  "He's doing an awfully good job of it, too."

  Despite his earlier frustration of knowing she was the daughter of his predecessor, he was glad she was here. He liked her instincts and she had a good eye for detail. "By decapitating them and leaving the victims nude, do you think he's attempting to degrade them, strip them not only of their identities but demoralizing them as well?"

  "It's likely. We'll be able to learn more about his motives once we know the identities of the victims," she said.

  "So you've no idea of the type of person we're up against here?"

  "I think it's a safe bet that our guy is a white male who's intelligent and well organized."

  "That's it?"

  "For the time being, that's all I can give you."

  "What about the string tied to their toes, any thoughts there?"

  "It could represent a bond of some sort he feels with the victims, and it might not mean anything at all. He could just be toying with us."

  Austin pulled up in front of the sheriff's office. "So we're no closer to catching this guy than we were this morning."

  "Basically. Now aren't you glad you asked for my help?" She tossed him an infectious smile and climbed out. "See you tomorrow."

  Chapter three

  Austin grinned as Jo's green rental car disappeared from his view, his earlier agitation at her arrival slowly slipping away. He couldn't help but be intrigued by her. Watching her with the body, he witnessed Jo's obvious dedication to her work, and he imagined with the nature of her job, it took her to many parts of the country, sometimes with as little as an hour's notice. That fact alone would have an enormous effect on a person's private life. He knew better than most, though, that family should always take precedence over work because you never knew when they'd be snatched away from you.

  This was why it had saddened him to learn of the unstable relationship she seemed to have with her family. According to Slim, who offered the information more freely than Austin felt he should have, Jo hadn't spoken to her family in two years and had been away from Claremont for ten years. He'd met Elizabeth and Bill Jr., Jo's mother and brother, and they'd seemed decent and likable people. He couldn't help but wonder what had transpired between the three that would cause such an estrangement of an otherwise perfectly normal family.

  "Hey, Austin, you gonna stay out here in the hot sun all day?" Walt called out from the doorway. "If so, what'cha want me to do with this information coming in over the wire right now, concerning a possible ID for one of our Jane Doe's?"

  Austin flew up the steps three at a time and entered the reception area. The other deputies scrambled to get out of his way as he hurried to the fax machine.

  After flopping down in one of the office chairs, he scooted toward the machine and grabbed the fax just as it finished printing. "Stephanie Harrison, age thirty-seven, single. Salt Lake City, Utah. Reported missing yesterday morning by her live-in boyfriend. This could be it, boys." He turned to find most of his deputies hovering around him. "Someone grab me the autopsy reports."

  Derek Simmons, the youngest and most enthusiastic of his deputies, ran into and almost laid out one of the older deputies as he scrambled to his desk. "Here you go, Sir."

  Austin scooted to the nearest desk and laid the missing person report next to Jane Doe number one's autopsy report. "five-six, one-hundred-thirty pounds, medium complexion, brown hair. Not a match," he concluded out loud. Flipping it over, he read the physical description of Jane Doe number two, "Five-seven, one-hundred-forty pounds, light complexion, blonde hair."

  "Isn't she the one with only one kidney?" Slim asked.

  "That's her, Sir," Derek Simmons shouted much too close to Austin's ear, prompting him to hunch his shoulder. "Sorry," the deputy apologized.

  Austin looked over the missing person report again and Jane Doe number two's autopsy report. Jane Doe only had one kidney. If Stephanie Harrison only had one kidney, it was a very good possibility they are one in the same.

  "Do you want me to give them a call?"

  "Please, then patch them through to me."

  "Yes, Sir."

  While Deputy Simmons called Salt Lake City, Austin escaped to his office to work on his report on the latest Jane Doe. If their suspicions were right, that the woman had given birth, it would at least help in identifying her more quickly.

  Since he knew firsthand the effect a parent's death had on a young child, his heart went out to the father who'd have to sit that child down and explain why mommy wouldn't be coming home. It was a heart-wrenching task he himself had been through not that long ago.

  His daughter, Bailey, was only twelve when her mother was killed in a car accident. Confused and mad at the world, she'd made Austin's life a living hell for six months, until he decided it was time to move out of the city, and away from all the temptations presented to troubled kids. She had yet to forgive him for taking her away from her friends, but at least she had settled down and was beginning to make new ones.

  A knock sounded at the door and Austin glanced up and saw Deputy Simmons poke his head inside. "I have Detective Greg Robinson from Salt Lake City on the line for you."

  "Thanks, Simmons." He picked up the phone and punched the blinking light. "Detective Robinson, Sheriff Austin Garrett. How are you doing today?"

  "Better after speaking with Deputy Simmons. He says you have a Jane Doe fitting Stephanie Harrison's description?"

  "Yeah. Do you have any medical history on her?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Our Jane Doe is missing a kidney."

  "Well, can't you ID her from the photo?"

  "No. She's been decapitated."

  "Car accident?"

  "I'm afraid she was murdered. She's one of four victims we have."

  "I don't envy you boys any. What can I do to help?"

  "I'd appreciate it if you could fax me all the information you have on Miss Harrison, along with a recent photograph, and find out whether or not she only has one kidney."

  "I'll give the parents a call, and get back with you."

  "I appreciate it detective."

  *****

  "Jane Doe number four appears to have been a healthy, thirty-five to forty-year-old female prior to death," Brad offered his final report while glancing over the notes he'd made regarding the size and weight of the organs removed from the body. "Height, sixty-seven inches, one-hundred-thirty-eight pounds, medium complexion, blonde hair, and she appears to have given birth at some point in her life. The victim's head has been severed cleanly and is missing from the body, but decapitation is not the cause of death. As with the other victims, the right side ventricle of the heart is enlarged and there is a blue discoloration in her fingertips which indicates strangulation."

  Jo glanced up as he clicked off the microphone fasten
ed to his scrubs. "Can you tell if he did it manually or by ligature?" she asked softly before lowering her eyes back to the headless corpse.

  "Impossible to tell for certain."

  "What troubles me is that none of our victims show any signs of a struggle. In almost all the strangulation cases I've seen there are defensive wounds to the hands or arms."

  "I don't know what to tell you, Jo, the tox screens on all the women were negative?"

  "Could there have been a mistake made at the lab?"

  "In all three women?"

  "Well, there's something wrong somewhere, Brad. This guy didn't hypnotize these women into submission." Without bothering to ask his permission, she walked over to the metal table, next to the latest victim, and picked up one of the specimen tubes containing a sample drawn from her urinary bladder.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "I've got a friend in our Washington lab. I thought I'd send a sample and see what she's able to come up with."

  "So, you think I screwed up?" He tossed the clipboard he held in his hands onto the metal surface of the counter and it went crashing into the steel sink.

  "I just want to be sure."

  "You have some nerve, Jo, coming in here telling me how to perform my job."

  "That isn't what I'm doing, Brad. All I'm suggesting is that our lab in Washington has more up-to-date equipment that enables them to be more thorough. They can run a battery of tests in half the time it'd take at the state lab."

  "Fine, Jo, do whatever you want, but they won't find anything because these women weren't drugged." Taking the remaining specimens, he left the room.

  *****

  After carefully packaging the specimen and affixing a biohazard/keep-refrigerated sticker to it, she sent it, along with a copy of the autopsy report, with a local courier. She then returned to her motel and phoned Lindsey Hammond, her friend with the lab in Washington, the best lab analyst with whom she'd ever worked.

  "What can I do for you, Jo?" her southern accent heavier than Jo remembered.

  "I've got a huge favor to ask."

  "Why is it the only time I hear from you is when you want a favor?"

  "Hey, I stopped in to see you three months ago to take you to lunch and you were on vacation."

  "So you did. Okay, I forgive you, so what is this huge favor?"

  "I'm on a case in Oregon and I suspect a drug is being used to subdue the victims, but so far all the toxicology reports have come up negative. I was hoping you could work your magic and come up with something for me."

  "Let me guess, you needed it yesterday?"

  "Right. I sent off a urine sample a half-hour ago along with the autopsy notes."

  "Do you realize how backlogged I am? You only make the twelfth agent I've spoken to today with a similar request, and half of them are eligible bachelors."

  "You're married, and besides, they don't keep you supplied with your favorite chocolate covered macadamia nuts?"

  "All right. Where do you want the results faxed?"

  "If you'll FedEx them to me in care of the Caldwell County Sheriff's Office in Claremont, Oregon, I'll send you two boxes."

  "You've got yourself a deal. Hey, isn't that in the vicinity of where you grew up?"

  "Dead center. It's my hometown."

  "Who'd you tick off to get that assignment?"

  "I don't know. I'm still wondering that myself."

  "Well hang in there and I'll get you those results as quick as I can."

  "Thanks, Lindsey, I appreciate it."

  The minute she hung up the phone her stomach growled, reminding her she'd had nothing to eat since the bagel and cream cheese she'd had on the plane earlier that morning. She flipped through the phone book and found the number to the Pizzeria and jotted it down on the pad, figuring she'd give them a call once she'd cleaned up.

  A half-hour later Jo had just stepped from the shower when she heard a persistent knock at the door. Throwing on her robe, she peered through the peephole and saw Sheriff Garrett looking back at her. She opened the door, using it to shield her body from his view.

  "I've been trying to reach you," he announced, brushing past her uninvited into the room. "After phoning the funeral home, and learning you'd already left, I've been calling your room for the last ten minutes."

  "I was in the shower."

  He turned to face her. Only then did he seem to notice her lack of clothing. He quickly shifted his gaze to the blank television screen. "Do you always answer the door in a bathrobe?"

  "The way you were pounding on my door you gave me little choice."

  "Sorry. Should I come back?"

  Amused by his behavior, she grinned. "Depends on what you want."

  "We need to talk."

  She grabbed her clothes from the spare bed. "In that case, make yourself comfortable. I'll be out in a few minutes."

  *****

  Austin glanced around the motel room. There were two double beds draped in multicolored comforters that matched the curtains and walls, one of which was loaded down with luggage. A small table was centered between the beds with a lamp and phone on it. He noticed something written on the pad and stepped closer, recognizing the number to the pizzeria. Along the wall was a mirrored dresser and located in front of the bay window was a square imitation oak table with two matching chairs. Beside it was a small refrigerator with a microwave sitting on top. Taking the liberty of drawing the curtains, he glanced out at a snow-peaked Mt. Hood.

  "The accommodations aren't much, but you couldn't ask for a better view."

  He turned at her words and was pleasantly surprised at her choice of clothing. The faded blue jeans and white tank top she wore was a welcomed contrast to the starch gray pantsuit she'd had on earlier, and her reddish brown hair, still wet, was darker now and carried the scent of strawberries.

  "So what's up?" She moved past him and took a seat at the table. "Please don't tell me you've got another body."

  "No. I've come bearing good news, and to invite you to dinner."

  "Thanks for the offer, Sheriff, but—"

  "It's Mexican night at Bertha's," he added as an incentive, hoping she hadn't placed her order for pizza yet.

  She glanced up at him with a crooked smile. "Is that the good news you have for me? That it's Mexican night at Bertha's."

  "It's coming. Come on, put your shoes on. I haven't had dinner yet, and I hate to eat alone."

  "I'd planned on ordering pizza and eating in."

  "Okay, a compromise. We'll go out for pizza."

  Her smile widened. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

  "Nope. Besides, aren't you curious to see if your home town has changed any?"

  "Not particularly, but Mexican does sound better than pizza."

  "Great. We can walk from here; it's only a few blocks. That is if you don't mind the exercise?"

  "Not at all," she replied as she stood. "I had an early flight this morning so I missed my daily run."

  "You run?"

  "It's a morning ritual. It helps to clear my head and allows me an occasional pint of Rocky Road ice cream." She moved to the edge of the bed and put on a pair of Nike tennis shoes.

  "Look's like you're going to miss your run tomorrow, as well. That is if you care to join me in a quick trip to Salt Lake City to visit with the possible parents of Jane Doe number two."

  She glanced up at him. "You have a possible ID on one of the victims?"

  "Thanks to you and Deputy Pendergrass. He took the names obtained from the airlines and ran them through NCIC and we got a missing person hit."

  "That was quick."

  "As it turned out there were only sixty-eight women traveling alone who flew into Portland on the dates we provided. And it just so happens that the missing woman and our Jane Doe are both missing a kidney."

  "I'm impressed."

  "I hoped you would be. Wouldn't want you returning home making jokes about the incompetence of my boys or me."

&nb
sp; "I wouldn't do that."

  "After the way you cut loose on Pendergrass this morning, I have my doubts."

  "Sorry. I suppose I did overreact a bit. It's just, I get so fed up with the chauvinistic attitude of men sometimes, I could scream."

  "Well, I assure you I don't share the same opinion as my younger, inexperienced, deputy. Having been with the L.A. County Sheriff's Office for seventeen years, I've met plenty of women who were just as good, if not better than me, in the field."

  "L.A. County, huh? Whatever possessed you to move here?" Jo walked to the table between the beds, removed a hip holster, and fastened it to her belt. She then slipped on the gray blazer she wore earlier.

  He quickly recognized the weapon as a SIG Sauer 9mm; almost identical to the one he carried. Interesting, the same taste in weaponry. "Another time, perhaps. Right now, the only thing I want to discuss is the menu at Bertha's."

  Her stomach growled in response and they both laughed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bertha Cline had opened her restaurant when Jo was a freshman in high school. Twenty- three years later, and in her early sixties, the woman was still a non-stop blast of energy, Jo concluded as she watched the white-haired woman standing behind the counter chastising a young waitress for getting an order wrong.

  "Has she always been like that?"

  Jo shifted her gaze to meet the sheriff's eyes, startled momentarily at how blue they were. They were like the deepest waters of the ocean and just as dangerous she suspected. She could only imagine how many women that'd been swept away by the intensity of his gazes. Gazes much like the one she caught from him back in her motel room, before averting his attention. It'd been a long time since a man had looked at her in such a way.

  "You okay?"

  His inquiry jolted Jo back to the present. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

  "You do that a lot," he commented, reminding her of their earlier conversation with Slim and Walt.

  "I've just got a lot on my mind. I'm usually not this scatter-brained."