by Blake Pierce
Frowning for the first time that day, Kate picked up the phone and called Melissa.
***
Once, when Melissa was sixteen, she’d snuck a boy into her room late at night when Kate and Michael were already asleep. Kate had stirred awake at some noise (which she later found out was likely someone’s knee hitting the wall in Melissa’s bedroom) and went up to investigate. When she opened her daughter’s door and found her topless with a boy in her bed, she had thrown him off the bed and screamed at him to get out.
The fury in Melissa’s eyes that night was dwarfed by what Kate saw in her daughter’s stare as she buckled Michelle into the car seat at 9:30—just a little over an hour after Duran had called her about the case in Roanoke.
“This is messed up, Mom,” she said.
“Lissa, I’m so sorry. But what the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Well, from what I understand, people actually stay retired once they’ve retired. Maybe try that!”
“It’s not that easy,” Kate argued.
“Oh, I know, Mom,” Melissa said. “It never was with you.”
“That’s not fair…”
“And don’t think I’m just pissed because you cut my one night to relax short. I don’t care about that. I’m not that selfish. Unlike some people. I’m pissed because your job—which you were supposed to be done with over a year ago, mind you—continues to win over your family. Even after everything…after Dad…”
“Lissa, let’s not do this.”
Melissa picked up the car seat with a softness that was not present in her voice or her body’s strained posture.
“I agree,” Melissa spat. “Let’s not.”
And with that, she walked out of the front door, slamming it behind her.
Kate reached out for the doorknob but stopped. What was she going to do? Was she going to continue this argument outside, in the yard? Besides, she knew Melissa well. After a few days, she’d cool down and would actually listen to Kate’s side of the story. She might even accept her mother’s apology.
Kate felt like a traitor as she picked up her cell phone. After she’d called Duran, he informed her that he’d planned on her showing up for the case anyway. As it stood, he had someone from the Virginia State Police lined up to meet with her and DeMarco at 4:30 in the morning down in Whip Springs. As for DeMarco, she had left DC half an hour ago with an agency car. She’d be at Kate’s house sometime around midnight. Kate realized she could have easily kept Michelle until the originally planned on eleven o’clock and avoided the confrontation with Melissa. But she couldn’t dwell on that now.
The suddenness of it all had taken Kate slightly off guard. Even though the last case she had taken had seemed to come out of nowhere, it had at least had some sort of stable structure to it. But it had been quite a while since she had been assigned a case at such an hour. It was daunting but she was also very excited—excited enough to be able to momentarily push Melissa’s anger toward her to the back of her mind.
Still, as she packed a bag while waiting for DeMarco to arrive, a stinging thought pierced her. And it’s that right there—your ability to push everything to the side for the sake of the job—that caused so much trouble between the two of you in the first place.
But that thought too was easily pushed to the side.
CHAPTER THREE
One of the many things Kate had learned about DeMarco during their last case was that she was punctual. It was a trait she was reminded of when she heard a knock on her door at 12:10.
I don’t remember the last time I had a visitor this late, she thought. College, maybe?
She walked to the door, carrying her single packed bag with her. Yet when she answered the door, she saw that DeMarco had no intention of just rushing out to drive to the crime scene.
“At the risk of seeming rude, I really need to use your bathroom,” DeMarco said. “Chugging two Cokes to stay awake for the ride was a bad idea.”
Kate smiled and stepped aside to let DeMarco in. Given the speed and urgency Duran had instilled in her during their phone calls, DeMarco’s abruptness was the kind of unintentional comic relief she needed. It also made her feel comfortable to know that even after almost two months apart, she and DeMarco were picking back up on the same comfort level they had shared before parting ways after the last case.
DeMarco came out of the bathroom a few minutes later with an embarrassed smile on her face.
“And good morning to you,” Kate said. Maybe it was because of the caffeine intake, but DeMarco did not seem any worse for the wear, apparently not fazed by the early hour.
DeMarco looked at her watch and nodded. “Yeah, I suppose it is morning.”
“When did you get the call?” Kate asked.
“Around eight or nine, I guess. I would have left earlier, but Duran wanted to make one hundred percent sure you were on board.”
“Sorry about that,” Kate said. “I was babysitting my granddaughter for the first time.”
“Oh no. Wise…that sucks. I’m sorry this is screwing with that.”
Kate shrugged and waved it away. “It’ll be fine. You ready to get going?”
“Yeah. I fielded a few calls on the way over while this was being managed by the guys back in DC. We’re scheduled to meet with one of the guys from Virginia State PD at four thirty at the Nash residence.”
“The Nash residence?” Kate asked.
“The most recent couple to be murdered.”
They fell into step together back toward the front door. As they made their way out, Kate turned the living room light off and picked up her bag. She was excited about what might lie ahead, but she also felt like she was leaving her home rather irrationally. After all, just a few hours ago, her two-month-old granddaughter had been snoozing on her bed. And now here she was, about to drive straight to a murder scene.
She saw the standard bureau sedan parked in front of her house, right along the curb. It looked surreal, but also inviting.
“You want to drive?” DeMarco asked.
“Sure,” Kate said, wondering if the younger agent was offering the role as a show of respect or because she simply wanted a break from driving.
Kate got behind the wheel while DeMarco pulled up directions to the location of the most recent murder. It was in the town of Whip Springs, Virginia, a little hole-in-the wall town situated at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains just outside of Roanoke. They spent only a little time on small talk—Kate filling DeMarco in on how it felt to be a grandmother, while DeMarco remained mostly silent, mentioning only yet another failed relationship after her girlfriend left her. This came as a surprise, as Kate had not pegged DeMarco as being gay. If anything, it showed her that she really needed to spend some more time getting to know the woman who was more or less her partner. Punctuality, she had picked up on. Homosexuality, she had missed. What the hell did that say about her as a partner?
As the crime scene drew closer, DeMarco read over the reports that Duran had sent them pertaining to the case. As she read them, Kate kept looking for any traces of the sun breaking the horizon but saw none.
“Two older couples,” DeMarco said. “Sorry…one in their late fifties…so no offense.”
“None taken,” Kate said, not sure if this was DeMarco’s weird attempt at humor.
“At first glance, they appear to have nothing in common, other than location. The first scene was right in the heart of Roanoke and this most recent one was no more than thirty miles away, in Whip Springs. There appear to be no signs that the husband or the wife were the preliminary targets. Each murder was gruesome and a little overdone, indicating that the killer enjoys it.”
“And that typically points to someone who feels that they have been wronged by the victims in some cases,” Kate pointed out. “That or some twisted psychological craving for violence and bloodshed.”
“The most recent victims, the Nashes, had been married for twenty-four years. They have two children, one who lives in San Dieg
o and another who is currently attending UVA. She’s the one who discovered the bodies when she came home yesterday.”
“What about the other couple?” Kate asked. “They have any kids?”
“Not according to the reports.”
Kate mulled all of this over and for reasons she could not grasp, found herself thinking of the little girl she had passed on the street earlier in the day. Or, rather, the flashback that little girl had spurred up in her mind.
When they arrived at the Nash residence, the horizon had finally started to catch some of the light from the rising but still absent sun. It peeked through the tree line that surrounded most of the Nashes’ yard. In that light, they could see a single car parked in front of the house. A man stood propped against the hood, smoking a cigarette and holding a cup of coffee.
“You guys Wise and DeMarco?” the man asked.
“That’s us,” Kate said, stepping forward and showing her ID. “Who are you?”
“Palmetto, with Virginia State PD. Forensics. I got the call a few hours ago that you two would be taking the case. Figured I might as well be here to hand off what I have. Which, by the way, isn’t much.”
Palmetto took one final drag from his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, snuffing it out with his foot. “The bodies have obviously been moved and there was very little evidence found anywhere. But come on inside anyway. It’s…eye opening.”
Palmetto spoke with the emotionless tone of a man who had been doing this for quite some time. He led them up the Nashes’ sidewalk and onto the porch. When he opened the door and led them inside, Kate could smell it: the smell of a crime scene where a lot of blood had been spilled. There was something chemical to it, not just the coppery smell of blood, but of recent movement and people with rubber gloves looking over the scene recently.
Palmetto turned each light on they made their way into the house—through the foyer, down a hallway, and into the living room. In the bright glare of overhead lights, Kate saw the first splotch of blood on the hardwood floor. And then another and another.
Palmetto led them to the front of the couch, pointing to the bloodstains like a man simply confirming the fact that water is indeed wet.
“The bodies were here, one on the couch and one on the floor. It appeared that the mother was killed first, probably from the cut to her neck, although one did seem to land pretty close to her heart, but through the back. It’s theorized that there was a struggle with the father. There was bruising on his forearms, some blood coming out of his mouth, and the coffee table had been knocked askew.”
“Any early ideas on the time that passed between the murders and the daughter discovering them?” Kate asked.
“No more than a day,” Palmetto answered. “And it was probably more like twelve or sixteen hours. I’m sure the coroner will have something a little more concrete at some point today.”
“Anything else of note?” DeMarco asked.
“Yes, actually. It’s a piece of evidence…just one single piece.” He reached into the inner pocket of his thin jacket and pulled out a small evidence baggie. “I kept this. Got permission, so don’t get all spooked. I figured you’d want to take it and run. It’s the only evidence we found, but it’s pretty unnerving.”
He offered the clear plastic baggie to Kate. She took it and eyed the contents inside. From what she could tell, it was a simple piece of cloth, about six-by-three inches. It was thick, blue in color, and had a fluffy texture to it. The entire right side of it was stained in blood.
“Where was this found?” Kate asked.
“Stuffed into the mother’s mouth. It was pushed deep down there, almost down her throat.”
Kate held it up to the light. “Any idea where it came from?” she asked.
“No idea. Looks to be just a random scrap.”
But Kate wasn’t so sure. In fact, her grandmother’s intuition started storming to the front. This was not some random piece of fabric. No…it was soft, it was light blue, and looked to be quite fluffy.
This was part of a blanket. Perhaps a child’s security blanket.
“You holding any other surprise evidence for us?” DeMarco asked.
“No, that’s it out of me,” Palmetto said, already heading back for the door. “If you ladies need any help from this point on, feel free to give us a call at the State PD.”
Kate and DeMarco shared an annoyed look behind his back. Without having to say anything, they each knew that the term you ladies had pissed the other off.
“Well, that was brief,” DeMarco said as Palmetto gave them a noncommittal wave from the front door.
“Just as well,” Kate said. “This way we can start looking the case over with our own eyes, without the influence of what anyone else has found.”
“You think we need to speak to the daughter next?”
“Probably. And then we’ll look into the first crime scene and see if we can find anything there. Hopefully we’ll find someone who’s a bit more sociable than our friend Palmetto.”
They headed back out of the house, turning off the lights as they went. As they headed back outside, the sun finally peeking out from the edge of the world, Kate carefully placed what she thought was a scrap of a child’s blanket into her pocket and could not help but think of her granddaughter sleeping under a similar blanket.
Walking toward the sun did nothing to suppress the chill that crept through her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Breakfast consisted of a Panera Bread drive-thru in Roanoke. It was there, while waiting in the small early-morning line, that DeMarco placed several calls to set up a meeting with Olivia Nash, daughter of the recently slayed couple. She was currently staying with her aunt in Roanoke and was, by her aunt’s own words, an absolute wreck.
After getting the address and approval from the aunt, they headed for the aunt’s house just after seven o’clock. The early hour was not an issue because, according to the aunt, Olivia had refused to sleep ever since having discovered her parents.
When Kate and DeMarco arrived at the house, the aunt was sitting on the porch. Cami Nash stood when Kate got out of the car but made no move to come meet them. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and the tired look on her face made Kate think it was certainly not the first she had enjoyed this morning.
“Cami Nash?” Kate asked.
“Yeah, that’s me,” she said.
“First and foremost, please accept my sympathies for your loss,” Kate said. “Were you and your brother close?”
“Pretty close, yeah. But right now, I have to look past that. I can’t… grieve right now because Olivia needs someone. She’s not the same person I spoke with on the phone last week. Something in her is broken. I can’t even imagine…what it must have been like to find them like that and…”
She trailed off and sipped down some of her coffee very quickly, trying to distract herself from the onslaught of tears that seemed to be rapidly approaching.
“Is she going to be okay to speak with us?” DeMarco asked.
“Maybe for a while. I told her you were coming and she seemed to understand what I meant. That’s why I’m meeting you out here before you go in. I feel like I need to tell you that she’s a normal, well-rounded young woman. In the state she’s in now, though, I didn’t want you to think she had some sort of mental issues or something.”
“Thanks for that,” Kate said. She had seen people absolutely devastated by grief before and it was never a pretty sight. She couldn’t help but wonder how much experience DeMarco had with it.
Cami led them into the house. It was as quiet as a tomb inside, the only sound coming from the hum of the air conditioner. Kate noticed that Cami walked slowly, making sure not to make too much noise. Kate followed suit, wondering if Cami was hoping the silence would help Olivia finally fall asleep or if she was simply trying not to alarm the already-fragile young woman in any way.
They entered the living room, where a young woman was half-sitting, half-lying on the couc
h. Her face was red, her eyes slightly swollen from recently weeping. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in about a week rather than just a day or so. When she saw Kate and DeMarco enter, she sat up a bit.
“Hi, Ms. Nash,” Kate said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“It’s Olivia, please.” Her voice was hoarse and tired—almost as worn out as her eyes seemed to be.
“We’ll make this as quick as possible,” Kate said. “I understand that you had just come in from college. Do you know if your parents had planned to have anyone else over that day?”
“If they did, I didn’t know about it.”
“Please forgive me for asking, but do you know if either of your parents had any long-standing grudges with anyone? People they might have considered enemies?”
Olivia shook her head firmly. “Dad was married once before…before he met Mom. But even with his ex-wife, he was on good terms.”
Olivia started crying noiselessly. A series of tears slipped from her eyes and she did not bother trying to wipe them away.
“I want to show you something,” Kate said. “I don’t know if it has any significance to you or not. If it does, it could be quite emotional. Would you be willing to take a look and let us know if it looks familiar to you?”
Olivia looked alarmed, maybe even a little scared. Kate really didn’t blame here and almost didn’t want to show her the scrap of fabric Palmetto had handed them—the scrap Kate felt certain was part of a blanket or quilt. A bit reluctantly, she pulled it out of her pocket.
She knew right away that Olivia didn’t recognize it. There was an immediate sense of relief and confusion on the young woman’s face as she looked at the plastic bag and what it held inside.
Olivia shook her head but kept her eyes locked on the clear plastic bag. “No. I don’t recognize it. Why?”
“We can’t reveal that right now,” Kate said. Truthfully, there was nothing unlawful about revealing it to the next of kin…but Kate didn’t see the point in traumatizing Olivia Nash any further.
