Scraps of Evidence: Quilts of Love Series

by Barbara Cameron

  “Yes sir. I’ve done nothing but get ready for this for years.”

  He nodded. “Gordon thinks you can handle it. Says you’ve obsessed about trying to solve your friend’s murder.”

  “Sometimes it takes obsessiveness.”

  “True.” He turned his attention to Logan. “I want to catch this guy and lock him away for good. Maybe having some fresh eyes’ll help.”

  “I hope so.”

  The phone rang. He picked it up and snapped, “I said no calls.” He listened and muttered under his breath. “Tell him I’ll call him back in five. No, don’t let him try to bulldoze you. Tell him five minutes and hang up.”

  He slammed the phone down. “Press got wind. You two make yourselves scarce and don’t say anything unless I tell you. Got it?”

  “Yessir,” they said in unison.

  “Okay, briefing at 0800.”

  They were nearly out of the room when he barked, “I want your report on my desk pronto. Overtime’s already authorized.”

  Logan followed Tess to their desks. “Let’s get that report out of the way and then pull the files for all the cold cases. Four, right?”

  “Right.” She sat down and logged in on her computer. “Let’s do this.”

  They worked well as a team even though they hadn’t known each other long. Logan deferred to Tess sitting behind the computer and typing the report. Since he’d been a detective for longer than her, he knew more about doing them but her writing skills were better and, as she put it, his spelling was “atrocious.” He’d reminded her he used a spell checker, but she’d dismissed that with a sniff. He couldn’t argue that spell checkers stunk.

  When the report was finished, she printed out a copy and handed it to Logan to deliver.

  “Why not just send it to him?”

  Tess shook her head. “Chief’s a little old-fashioned. He wants to hold it in his hands. Give it to his assistant if she’s there.”

  So Logan took the report and delivered it to the chief, then returned to find Tess had pulled a stack of files and set them on his desk.

  “Just a little light reading, huh?”

  Tess just made a noncommittal noise as she looked at something on her computer.

  He sat down and opened the first file. The photo of a young woman lay on top. He studied it, aware that she’d looked up and was watching him. What must it have been like to see photos of her best friend like this? It couldn’t compare to the first time he’d encountered a dead body on duty. He’d been lucky the victim had been a stranger.

  “I made up a file of my own,” she told him. “I can give you an overview.”

  He watched her body language. She lifted her chin—a tell that showed she was a little defensive. Someone had made her feel so. Smithers? So far she’d shown she was intelligent, methodical, and years ahead of others at her level of service. His gut told him she’d save him hours getting up to speed.

  His gut had always stood him in good stead.

  He nodded.

  She pushed her chair around to the side of his desk and handed him a map. “Shows all the locations where the bodies were found.”

  “He started at the lighthouse, moved to the beach, then the fort, and a cemetery. Toni’s different—she was killed at her house.”

  “That’s different,” she agreed. “But the killer does follow a pattern in the ages of his victims—they’re all in their late teens or twenties. Pretty typical of serial killers.”

  She pulled out photos of the others and laid them on his desk. He found himself admiring her courage when she added one of her friend.

  “Any pattern about time of year? Occupation? Any of them prostitutes?”

  She gave him a level gaze. “You’re not suggesting they’re less worthy of having their murder solved because they were prostitutes?”

  He met her gaze. “I know we haven’t known each other long but do you really need to ask the question?”

  Tess shook her head. “No. But I’m sorry to say that opinion isn’t shared by everyone in the department.”

  “Judge not,” he murmured.

  “Anyway, to answer your questions, so far we haven’t seen any pattern regarding timing—here’s a chart to show when each occurred. Occupations have varied. Sam was a high school student; Carol, victim two, a nurse; Bobbi, a drug company rep; Susan, unemployed; Toni, a part-time college instructor and freelance writer.”

  He listened, took notes, and asked questions. When she ran down, he glanced at the clock and was surprised at how much time had passed.

  “Guess we ought to knock off since we have to be back here in five hours,” he said and wondered if she’d be able to back off and let it go for the night.

  “I agree.”

  “I’m impressed with all the work you did,” he said and meant it.

  She began putting the items back into the master file—careful to organize them as meticulously as they’d been when she started. “Thanks. I learned from one of the best.”

  “The chief? Or your uncle?”

  “My uncle. He saw I was interested in police work when I was in high school and he was a kind of mentor for me. I hung around their house a lot, joined Police Explorers. It was a logical thing to go after a criminal justice major once I graduated.”

  “Especially after you lost your friend.”

  She stood and walked over to lock the file in her desk. “Yeah.”

  Outside, the temperature had dropped quite a bit but the air still felt humid. The tourists were gone for the day, and there were few cars driving past.

  “I’m starved. You?”

  “I could eat.”

  “I don’t suppose the diner’s open?”

  “No. But there’s a good place not far from here. They’ll even fix you fried potatoes since you’re a Yankee.”

  He made a face. “I don’t eat grits. Talk about tasteless.”

  She shook her head. “And here I thought you were a smart man.”

  6

  Tess was dressed and out the door before 0700.

  Logan was already at his desk when she got to the station.

  He looked up. “Get any sleep?”

  “Not much. You?” She set her coffee on her desk, sat down, and typed her password into her computer.

  “Not much. Want a cat?”

  “No. You have one to give away?”

  “Free. With supplies. Free delivery. Oh, did I mention free?”

  She laughed. “That doesn’t sound good. You haven’t had it long.”

  “Long enough,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip of his own coffee. “He wanted to get out, so he howled and howled. I wasn’t about to let him go fight another cat after I dropped a wad of cash at the vet’s.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ll get him back. He’s getting neutered on Tuesday.”

  “So you’re keeping him?” She gave her e-mail a quick scan.

  “Only until I find him a home. At the least, if he gets out between now and then he can’t father a bunch of kittens.”

  “Why Logan, that’s really nice of you.”

  He looked around then leaned forward. “Don’t you go mentioning it around the station, you hear?”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. “I won’t breathe a word.”

  “You think it’s funny, but you know how guys are. I don’t need to be ragged on about having a cat.”

  “No one’s going to give you a hard time because you have a cat. Most people here are animal lovers.” She thought about it. “Well, Gordon isn’t a fan of cats, but my aunt has one.”

  He returned his attention to the file he’d been studying. She printed out a copy of the report they’d given the chief the night before and put one on Logan’s desk. He looked up. “Did you say something?”

  She shook her head. “Just gave you a copy of the report in case you needed it for the meeting.”

  “Sorry, I guess I was concentrating too hard. Thanks.” He smiled briefly.

  �
�We had the same amount of sleep last night. How is it you can look like you do?”

  He grinned. “Clean living.”

  “Yeah, right.” She sighed. “I feel like something the cat dragged in.” She picked up her cup and found it empty. “Coffee. I need more coffee.”

  “You don’t look like the cat dragged you in. You look—” he stopped.

  “What?”

  He reddened. “You look great.”

  “Wow. A compliment.”

  “Give me a break.” He locked the file he’d been studying in his desk and stood. “Guy has to watch what he says. Don’t want to be accused of sexual harassment in the workplace.”

  “Maybe you could give Smithers a little 411 on that matter.”

  “Ah, so that’s his problem.”

  She tossed her paper cup in the trash. “One of them.”

  “Tess! Morning!”

  She looked up. “Gordon.”

  He nodded at Logan. “So how’s it going?”

  “Good.”

  “Tess here showing you the ropes?”

  “He knows the ropes. I’m just introducing him to the city.”

  “Got a big case pretty quick,” he said, leaning back against the doorway to study her. “How are you feeling about that?”

  Tess leaned back in her chair. “I’d like for it not to have happened. But I’m looking forward to catching this guy.”

  “Think you’re smart enough, huh?”

  “I trained with the best.”

  “True.” He flashed a grin at Logan. “Smart girl recognizes someone of superior intelligence.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d say that,” she teased.

  His grin vanished, and he shot her an irritated look. “Hey, I’m in Mensa.”

  “I was just teasing.”

  “Well, watch it.” He glanced back as members of the force walked toward the squad room and waved at someone. “Well, we should be heading into the briefing.”

  “Right behind you. By the way, how is Aunt Kathy?”

  But he was already out the door.

  She stood and looked at Logan. He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.

  “I wish you’d say what you’re thinking. Even if it’s not something I want to hear.”

  “Hmm?” He seemed to bring himself back from somewhere. “Oh, I was just thinking that it’s harder to catch serial killers because most of them are smarter than the average person.”

  “That can work against them as much as for them,” she told him as she rounded the desk. “They like to think they’re smarter than everyone—including the cops. That arrogance is what can bring them down.”

  “True. But we can’t wait for him to trip himself up and risk him killing again.”

  “Agreed.”

  She wanted to say it was not a good idea to assume it was a male, either. But she was sure he knew that. Even if he’d been living up north, it was no secret that Florida had a female serial killer on Death Row.

  She gathered the special file she’d compiled and shown to Logan the night before, the report on Toni Miller’s case, and a notepad. “Ready?”

  He was looking in the direction her uncle had taken. “Yeah.” Picking up his own notepad, he looked around for a pen and reached over to take one from a mug filled with them on her desk.

  “Hey, you’re a pen thief?”

  “I prefer to think of it as taking it into protective custody.”

  “You’re just a barrel of laughs.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” He gestured at the door. “After you.”

  Logan closed the last of the stack of files and rubbed his eyes.

  “Enough reading for you?”

  “Glamorous part of the job. They never show it on TV or in the movies, do they?”

  Tess took the files from him and returned them to the file cabinet. “It sure wouldn’t help recruitment, would it?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Break for lunch?”

  “Yes, please.”

  They walked outside and found that it had been raining and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache from sitting hunched over the files for hours.

  “What do you feel like eating?”

  “Food.”

  “I know, but what?”

  “I’m too hungry to be picky,” she told him. “It would be nice to eat outside or take a quick walk, though. Get some fresh air. Let’s take a walk over to St. George Street.”

  Even though it had cooled off a little, it wasn’t exactly breezy. But he figured you didn’t get used to the heat by hiding from it. And if she was up for it, he was going to be.

  They passed by Flagler College, housed in an old Spanish-style hotel, on the way to the Street.

  “Why did you go to the University of Florida when this was closer?”

  “Sam and I always wanted to go away to college, share a dorm room,” she told him, her long legs matching him stride for stride. “Going to college in town just didn’t seem like . . . college, you know? Besides, I really liked the criminal justice program at UF.”

  “What about Sam? What was her major?”

  “Elementary ed. She would have made a wonderful teacher. Loved little kids, and she was good with them.”

  He kicked a stone out of his path. “Makes you wonder sometimes, doesn’t it? The why of it all?”

  She slowed her steps. “Yeah. I was angry at God for Sam’s death. How could he take someone good like that and leave some of the evil people like the murderer still walking the earth and hurting even more innocent people?”

  “And have you worked through that yet?”

  “Hardly. At least I started attending church again. Sam and I had always loved it, and I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to stop.”

  Her steps slowed at an elegant little restaurant, and he saw her expression turn wistful as she glanced at the menu posted on the wall of the building.

  “Do you want to eat here?”

  She bit her lip and then shook her head. “No, it’s expensive. Besides, it’s not open for lunch.”

  “So we’ll come back at dinnertime. My treat.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked, turning to face him.

  He shrugged and tried to look casual. “You’ve shown me around, made me feel welcome in a new city.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “No, it’s not a date.” He found himself regretting he had to promise her. Under other circumstances, he’d like to date her, but they worked together. . . .

  She stared at him for a long moment, pinning him with those sharp green eyes of hers. Then, apparently reassured, she nodded. “I’d like that even though it’s taking shameless advantage of you. I think the heat’s getting to you to offer to treat me at those prices. You may be eating ramen noodles for a month after the bill here.”

  He steeled himself not to double-check as she began walking up the street.

  “Tell you what, I’ll treat you to lunch,” she said. “This place has good sandwiches and smoothies.”

  “Fine with me.” Logan nearly wept when they walked into the air conditioning, but he wasn’t going to say anything to Tess and look weak.

  They placed their order and found seats near the window overlooking the street.

  “Guess this is a big change working in a tourist town.” Tess sipped her drink and handed him a couple of paper napkins.

  When she glanced out the window, he used the napkins to surreptitiously wipe the perspiration from his face. He sucked the medium-size drink dry and went to refill it. When he returned, their sandwiches had arrived.

  “You didn’t have to wait for me,” he told Tess.

  She turned from looking out the window. “Well, I didn’t,” she said. “I was enjoying watching the rain.”

  He leaned forward to look out the window. The clouds had moved over, shutting out the glare of the sun. The rain slid in silvery sheets down the window, softening the
day.

  “I love it when it rains on the old street,” Tess said.

  “You love this city, period.” Logan took a big bite of his turkey wrap. No question Tess knew the best places to eat.

  The door opened, and a man strolled in shaking raindrops as he chose a nearby table and dropped a dusty knapsack in a chair before he went to order.

  “Oh, my, they shouldn’t allow the homeless to come in here,” a woman said loudly near them.

  Logan watched Tess glance at her, then turn back to her sandwich. The woman continued to complain, not stopping even after the man sat down with his order.

  “I’ve had enough,” Logan said quietly.

  Tess nodded. “Let me handle it. I know him.”

  She stood and as she turned, he saw she pulled out a business card and set it on the table by the woman’s plate. She picked up her drink with her other hand and strolled over to the man’s table. He couldn’t hear their conversation but from the man’s quick, friendly smile saw that their past encounters must have been amenable.

  When she returned to the table after refilling her cup at the drink station, he saw the complaining woman appeared mollified and was eating her lunch.

  Tess checked her watch. “There’s time for dessert, but you’ll really wish later you’d saved room for the ones at Collage.”

  “You’ve steered me right in the food department so far,” he said as he stood and began clearing the table.

  “I’ll take care of that,” the waitress told. “I saw what you did, Tess,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing,” Logan told her when they were outside.

  She shrugged. “The woman didn’t need to fear Joe. Wonder what she’d think if she knew he used to be a professor who got laid off and lost everything? We have a problem here like a lot of cities—maybe more so because it’s warmer in the winter here. But we’ve only had a few incidents where someone got a little too aggressive panhandling.”

  He glanced up at the dripping skies. “Ready to take a run for it?”

  They dodged the raindrops and then, a half-block later, she waved to a tourist tram turning down a side street. The tram driver stopped with a smile, and they boarded it.