Shaking her head against the thoughts, Eden spoke more forcefully than she intended.
“No, that’s not possible. Ruth is a victim. She needs protection, not an interrogation.”
“Calm down, Eden.” Nessa’s voice was weary. “I’m not accusing Ruth of anything, but a girl is dead, and we need to keep an open mind as we begin the investigation.”
The soft nudge of Duke’s nose against her hand made Eden look down. She smiled into the golden retriever’s worried eyes, glad to have his stabilizing presence next to her. They’d been through so much together already. They’d get through this as well.
“Does Ruth need a lawyer?” Eden asked, her thoughts quickly turning to Leo Steele. “If she’s a suspect, she should have legal counsel and-”
“Whoa there, Eden,” Nessa interrupted, “you’re getting way ahead of yourself here. First we need to talk to Ruth, and we need time to investigate the crime scene. Only then can we determine who’s a suspect.”
Eden thought of Ruth sleeping fitfully at the shelter. The girl was so broken, so fragile. How would she respond to an interrogation by Nessa and Jankowski? Jankowski’s hard face filled her mind.
“Nessa?”
“Yes, Eden?”
Eden swallowed hard, tears springing to her eyes.
“Promise me you’ll be there with Ruth when she’s questioned? Promise you and Detective Jankowski won’t be too hard on her.”
Nessa’s sigh was long and heavy, and Eden could picture the detective’s kind blue eyes on the other end of the connection.
“For now, Ruth’s a witness and a possible victim. Of course, we’ll treat her accordingly,” Nessa agreed. “But we need to talk to her right away.”
“She’s sleeping now. She’s sedated. She’ll likely be asleep for hours, if not all day.”
Eden’s protective instinct sharpened her voice, and she had to remind herself that Nessa was only doing her job, only trying to help catch the person who’d killed Ruth’s friend.
Nessa’s a good detective, and she’s on our side…isn’t she?
But Ruth was asleep, and even when she woke up, there was no guarantee she’d remember what she’d said while under hypnosis. No guarantee she’d remember what had happened to her friend. An aggressive interrogation would only damage Ruth further.
“I’ll let you know as soon as Ruth wakes up and is ready to talk.”
Eden knew she had no choice. If she wanted the WBPD to find the killer quickly, they’d need all the information they could get, and Ruth was the only one who had seen what had happened.
Once she’d disconnected the call, Eden tapped on Leo’s name in her favorites list. No answer. She hung up before the call rolled to voicemail, then tapped in the number for his law office.
“You’ve reached Leo Steele’s office. Pat Monahan speaking.”
Eden was relieved to hear Leo’s long-time paralegal. The motherly woman kept close tabs on Leo’s schedule.
“Hi Pat, it’s Eden. I’m looking for Leo. He in the office today?”
“No, dear, he’s in court this morning.”
Resisting the urge to ask what he was working on, and when he would be back, she thanked Pat and ended the call.
I bet he’s working on getting Oscar Hernandez out of jail and won’t have time to help Ruth convince the WBPD she’s a victim, not a suspect.
Without warning Eden’s heart began to pound in her chest and her throat constricted. She’d suffered for years from anxiety after her sister had been killed, but with Reggie’s help she’d gotten control, or at least she thought she had. Now, standing in the cozy room, staring into the fire, she wasn’t so sure.
A familiar feeling of dread descended over her, making it hard for her to breathe, convincing her that she was heading toward a full-blown panic attack.
An incessant buzzing in her hand brought her attention back to her phone. Nathan Rush was calling.
She hesitated, not wanting her ex-partner to hear the anxiety in her voice. She’d assured him her anxiety disorder was no longer a problem. Had she been lying to him as well as herself?
“Nathan, this isn’t a good time.”
She struggled to keep her voice calm, sinking onto the sofa and pulling Duke in for a hug.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hearing the stress in her voice. “What’s happened? Is something wrong with the kids?”
“No, Hope and Devon are fine. Great in fact. But…”
She felt a lump rise in her throat, and for a horrible minute she thought she was going to burst into tears. Pulling herself back from the edge, she straightened her back, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“We’re all okay, but there’s something going on…a woman at the shelter’s been involved in a…a homicide. I need-”
“Not again, Eden,” Nathan said, his worry growing into frustration. “You can’t keep putting yourself in danger. Come out here for Christmas. Let the police handle things there.”
Eden held the phone away from her ear, not wanting to deal with Nathan’s disapproval, not wanting to disappoint him yet again.
“I’m sorry, Nathan, but I can’t come for Christmas. I need to stay here and take care of this…situation. And the kids want to stay here. This is our home, and they need stability right now.”
When he didn’t respond Eden looked at her display. Had they gotten disconnected?
“Fine, then I’ll come there,” Nathan finally said, his voice firm. “I need to talk to you, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“No, Nathan, please just let me handle this. I-”
A beep on the line alerted Eden that she had an incoming call.
“I’ll call you later Nathan. I’ve got to go.”
Eden disconnected the call and took a deep breath.
No time for panicking now. Reggie’s on the other line.
She’d have to tell Reggie about the body the police had found. Then they’d need to talk to Ruth and tell her the police wanted to question her, and that there was no way to avoid it.
After all, Ruth’s the only one who’s seen the face of the killer.
Chapter Sixteen
Asingle white cloud hung in the otherwise brilliant blue sky as Iris Nguyen stepped out of the crime scene van, pulled up the zip on her protective coveralls, and surveyed the gas station. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the area to the right of the station, and she could see Alma Garcia standing in an expanse of dirty ground, camera in hand. The senior crime scene technician was fully covered in protective wear from head to toe; Iris could see only her eyes as she looked up and waved.
“Should I unload the gurney now, or do you want to inspect the body first?”
Wesley Knox stood at the back of the van, his white coveralls straining to cover his tall, thick body.
“Let’s see what we’ve got first,” Iris replied, looking around for Nessa. “This one sounds like it might be…difficult.”
Willow Bay’s chief medical examiner wasn’t sure what to expect. Nessa had phoned with the news that they’d found a body hanging on a wall, and Iris hadn’t wasted time asking questions. She’d simply requested that they leave the body in situ until she arrived.
“Iris, over here!”
Iris recognized Nessa’s southern drawl and turned to see the detective coming around the corner of the building, a baggy protective suit covering her clothes and shoes.
Grabbing her camera from the car, Iris took a few steps toward the crime scene tape, then looked back.
“Come on, Wesley, and bring my bag, please.”
The forensic technician nodded, grabbed the heavy bag that Iris took to every scene, and fell in step behind his diminutive boss. They ducked under the yellow tape and crossed to Nessa, who pulled down her face mask and offered a tired smile.
“This is a bad one, Iris. Real bad.”
Iris nodded, scanning the surrounding woods and taking in the dilapidated building.
“Let me guess…t
he animals got to the body?”
Nessa blinked, then shook her head.
“No. Well, at least not the kind of animal you’re talking about.”
Nessa pointed toward the spot where Alma stood with her camera.
“It looks like the girl was killed over there, then someone moved her. Probably trying to hide the body, but who knows? Maybe they wanted to keep the wildlife away.”
Gesturing for Iris and Wesley to follow, Nessa turned and walked to the women’s restroom, stepping aside to let Iris pass.
The smell of death greeted Iris as she approached the room. She had time for a fleeting thought about the stench not being as strong due to the cold weather, then stopped abruptly at the sight of the bloody body suspended in the closet.
An irrational urge to hurry forward and release the girl from her tortured position flooded through Iris, but she pushed it away.
It’s too late to save her now. All I can do is determine how she died. Maybe then the police will find whoever left her mounted on this filthy wall.
Needing a few minutes to prepare herself for the examination that lay ahead, Iris stepped back outside. She looked past Wesley’s questioning gaze to stare at Nessa.
“Okay. So, how’d you guys even find her in there?”
“Eden Winthrop called in a report of a possible homicide. A girl at one of her shelters claimed to have seen her friend get murdered.”
Iris nodded to Wesley, hoping the young technician was prepared to see the macabre sight. He’d proven to have a strong stomach in the past, but you never knew.
“Okay, Wesley, let’s do this.”
She stepped back into the room and paused to raise her camera, knowing she’d want to have pictures from every angle when she went to write up the report. She felt Wesley jerk to a stop beside her.
“Jesus, what the…no, it can’t be her…”
Wesley’s garbled yell reverberated in the little space, causing Iris to jump and spin around. She watched as Wesley tore off his face mask and crossed to the closet. He raised a big hand to push back a stiff tangle of blonde hair, using the other hand to lift the girl’s chin, revealing a bloated, discolored face with a series of bloody cuts across the forehead.
“Candy? Oh, dear God, it…it is her. It’s Candy.”
Wesley backed away, bumping into Iris before turning and rushing through the door. Iris followed after him, watching as he sank to his knees by the payphone, vomiting up the lunch he’d eaten just before they’d received Nessa’s call.
“What is it, Wesley? Do you know the…the deceased?”
Iris glanced up to see Nessa hovering over her shoulder, waiting for Wesley’s response. Putting a gentle hand on his back, Iris asked the question again.
“You called the…the girl Candy. Why? Do you know her?”
Wesley nodded, a lock of brown hair falling over his forehead as he again leaned over and retched onto the dirty ground. When it appeared he had nothing left in his stomach, Wesley looked up at Iris, his eyes bloodshot and swollen.
“That’s Candy Newbury. She…she used to go to Willow Bay High.”
Nessa crouched beside Wesley.
“You went to school with her?”
Wesley nodded again, a self-conscious expression appearing as he saw Iris, Nessa and Alma gathered around him.
“How well did you know her?”
Nessa’s question seemed to confuse Wesley. He frowned and shrugged.
“We dated a few times, but that was a while back. I haven’t seen her in years. I thought…I thought she’d gone away to college or something.”
Before Nessa could respond, Detective Simon Jankowski appeared over her shoulder. He looked down at Wesley, then over at Iris.
“Your tech knows the victim?”
Iris nodded, her throat suddenly too dry to speak.
“Then he can’t be at the scene.” Jankowski’s voice was firm. “But before he leaves we’ll need to take a statement from him.”
Nessa and Jankowski exchanged a glance that sent a ripple of unease down Iris’ spine. She tuned to Wesley, her concern growing at the glassy look in his eyes.
“I’ll take his statement,” Nessa said. “We can sit in my car.”
Wesley stood up, his legs shaky, his eyes returning to the restroom door. He stared in horror, face pale, before allowing Nessa to lead him toward her Charger.
Feeling Jankowski’s eyes on her, Iris forced herself to clear her mind and focus on the scene. A girl had been viciously killed and it was her job to find out how. It wasn’t the right time to think about anything else. She squared her shoulders, walked back into the room, and lifted her camera.
✽ ✽ ✽
It was almost an hour before Iris was ready to load the body into the crime scene van. She’d taken photos, thoroughly examined the body and surrounding area, then called Alma to help her take the girl down from the wall. She soon realized that the body had been held upright by a hook that had gotten caught on the back of her dress. A few snips with her scissors and the girl was free.
As Alma left to continue her investigation of the scene outside, Iris recorded the body temperature as well as the air temperature in the restroom, eager to give the detectives a tentative time of death. Colder than usual weather would mean slower decomposition, and the additional protection provided by the closet meant less bug activity to analyze.
A shadow in the doorway blocked the sunlight. Nessa turned to see Detective Jankowski leaning against the doorjamb.
“You need any help, Iris?”
His voice was deep and his words soft. He sounded weary, and she looked up at the big detective with curious eyes. One minute he was hard as nails, the next he was playing Mr. Helpful.
“I need to lift her onto the gurney. May need some help with that since Wesley is…unavailable.”
“You mean, you want me to touch her?”
She cocked an eyebrow at his squeamishness.
“You’re not telling me that you’re afraid to touch a dead body, are you?” She felt a flash of satisfaction at his embarrassed shrug. “I thought you were some kind of tough guy.”
It was Jankowski’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Me? A tough guy? Maybe when I’m chasing live perps, but not in this situation. I’m definitely not tough when it comes to…this.”
Iris shook her head and sighed.
“Well, you don’t have a choice. This is your scene, and I need some help. Come with me.”
Jankowski followed her back to the van, watching as she took out the gurney and lowered the wheels.
“You take the rear,” she said, not really needing his help to push the lightweight gurney but liking the idea that she was making him uncomfortable.
The smell assaulted them again as they stepped through the doorway and Iris could see Jankowski hesitate.
“It’s okay, I’ve already got the sheet underneath her, so all we need to do is lift the sheet up and slide her onto the gurney. Ready?”
Jankowski nodded, but his hands shook as he lifted the sheet. As soon as the girl’s body was on the gurney, Iris covered her with a clean sheet and secured the straps. She watched the detective step back and release a deep breath.
“We done here?”
“Help me push her back to the van and load her in,” Iris said, her tone dry. “Then you’re done.”
Once they’d closed the van door behind the gurney, Iris pulled down her mask and pushed back her hood. Her thick dark hair was gathered in a low bun, and she felt the cold air on the bare skin of her neck as it slipped under her coveralls, sending a chill up her spine.
“So, what’s the cause of death?” Jankowski asked, his voice all business again.
Opening her mouth to give her usual disclaimer about needing time in the lab to determine the cause of death, Iris found herself instead telling Jankowski her real opinion.
“She was stabbed multiple times. I count over forty wounds from my superficial examination. I wouldn’t be
surprised to find more when I get her back to the lab.”
Iris nodded toward the pool of blood on the ground.
“And she lost a considerable amount of blood. I’d say it’s a homicide by stabbing. Case of death exsanguination.”
“And the murder weapon?”
Iris bit her lip, picturing the deep stab wounds and angry slashes.
“A fixed blade knife, probably about four inches long. Not the kind you’d find in most homes. Maybe something used for hunting or farming. Once I have exact measurements I can try to find a match.”
Jankowski swallowed hard, and Iris suddenly felt guilty for mocking him. She’d heard he was a good cop. She also heard he’d gone through a bitter divorce with the city’s high-profile media relations officer.
From what I’ve seen of Gabriella Jankowski, he has his hands full.
Iris tried not to stare as Jankowski folded muscular arms over his broad chest. She’d never noticed before how strong he was. The lack of eligible men in Willow Bay must be getting to her.
“What about time of death?”
Bringing her thoughts back to the subject at hand, Iris paused, hesitant to be too specific based on the recent change in temperature.
“I’d say it’s been at least twenty-four hours, but no more than forty-eight.”
Jankowski’s grunted, clearly unimpressed.
“Great, so we have a twenty-four-hour window to work with?”
“It’s the best I can do for now,” Iris replied, opening the door to the van. “If you want to sit in on the autopsy I may be able to narrow it down.”
Jankowski produced a tired grin.
“Oh, I’ll be there all right, whether I want to be or not.”
As Iris backed down the dirt road and pulled onto the highway, her thoughts returned to Wesley. Although she’d examined hundreds of bodies and performed countless autopsies, she’d never had the bad luck to find the body of someone she knew at a death scene.
Poor Wesley must be devastated, but he may be able to shed some light on the victim. And now her family will know what happened to her.
Catch the Girl Page 11
