organized and I don’t see any passion in it. The lack of passion leads me to believe that he thought she deserved this in some way. In other words, it wasn’t done spur of the moment—thought went into it. Hence the execution style to the shooting. But this burial and reburial and what I see in that isn’t organized or thought out at all in my opinion—and he reburied her in a way that he wouldn’t be responsible for discarding her remains. It’s completely irrational. Plus, in my gut I feel that his attempt to discard her is part of his denial of guilt and that goes hand in hand with this kind of personality—‘Someone else is to blame in all this, not me. She deserves all of this.’”
“So, in a nutshell, he thinks she’s done something to him and he kills her. He plans the killing, but then later his actions—the reburial—are committed in response to some other event?”
“Right.”
“This helps a lot.”
“It’s all just my impression—a gut feeling at this point—based on an execution-style bullet hole and bones dumped and carelessly reburied in a shallow grave. I just let it run through my head and try to see the event the way it might have happened. Then I try to imagine why the person would have done the murder that way. What was his motive in carrying out these actions?”
I smiled. It was the way I worked a crime scene—letting it run through my mind, but I didn’t have the knowledge of behavior that Leo had, just an eye for detail.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Nope. Just keep me in the loop, because now I’m tantalized.” She smiled broadly.
“Oh, one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“We both have been referring to the killer as ‘he.’ Any chance the killer is a woman?”
“Sure. I was just using the ‘he’ in a more general sense, but a woman could have all the same issues and could be the killer. I’ll tell you, though, the statistics say it’s more likely to be a guy.”
“I hope my work sheds more light on it all.”
“Your work usually does, Toni.”
“I’ve already started the bust.”
“Good. So, got any root beer in this place?” Leo grinned.
“Brat. Come on inside and we’ll drink the best root beer anywhere.”
We went into my kitchen and I pulled two ice-cold IBC root beers out of the fridge. IBC is bottled in Plano, and it’s genuine old-fashioned Texas root beer. I grabbed two frosted mugs from the freezer and poured the soda down the sides of each mug for minimum suds.
“Let’s drink these on the patio. What do you say?”
“You’re twisting my arm, Toni.”
We sat down in the Adirondack chairs I had outside and got into a relaxed mode. I took a long, slow swallow of the bubbly stuff.
“Ahh, this is the best.”
“You know how to serve root beer, Toni.”
“Well, I’ve had a little experience.”
“So, what’s up with grumpiness and carburetor overhauls and Vietnam?”
I sighed and told her about Ted and the phone call from Irini.
“You know, I forget that you were in ’Nam,” she said. “You almost never talk about that. I even forget that you were a registered nurse.”
“When I came back from Vietnam I wanted to forget I was a registered nurse, too.”
“So, you got into forensics?”
“Well, it didn’t happen like that. I went back to school and got my art degree, then my master’s and Ph.D. It was a fluke that I got into this line of work. It used to not exist, you know.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s right.”
“I got into it because of Jack’s work as a detective, and my love of and involvement in art, particularly in sculpture.”
“That makes sense.”
We both took another long swallow of root beer and sat in silence for a few minutes.
“So, Toni, what was ’Nam like?”
“Blood and bombs and horrible smells—gasoline and jet-fuel smell in everything—and death, lots of death.”
“I guess you saw some terrible stuff.”
“Yes, I did, but I was a triage nurse for flying wounded boys to other hospitals or home, so I didn’t see the worst of it. The army nurses out in the field saw things I think would have driven me mad.”
“I’ve seen some pretty bad stuff in fires. I can’t imagine going to war like that. So, you and Jack just hung out with Ted most of the time?”
“When we were all off duty we did. There was this place there—just a dump where we ate and hung out. We’d spend hours there yucking it up and talking about how great it would be when we all got back home.”
“Wow. I’m sorry, Toni.”
“Yeah, it makes me sick sometimes. Ted never made it, and now Jack’s gone. It’d be a lot easier to handle Ted being found if Jack was still here with me. It really stinks.”
“I’m in touch with that emotion in a big way.”
Now I felt really bad. Here I was talking about all this to Leo, and her parents and brother were all dead, and her only living relative was her cousin, Pete. Her parents had been killed by a drunk driver on 2222, and her brother, formerly Tommy Lucero’s partner, had been shot to death in the line of duty just over a year ago.
“I’m sorry, kid, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Aw, don’t start walking on eggshells around me. I don’t own grief, you know. Vietnam was horrible. I’m sure Ted wasn’t the only person you knew there who didn’t make it. You have a right to feel what you feel about that.”
“Unfortunately, Ted wasn’t the only friend we had there who didn’t make it. He was the friend we knew and loved the most, I guess, but there were so many others. Oh man, marines there on the base who went off on patrol and they’d come back with a third of the guys gone, and two or three of those were friends of ours. Pilots that flew off and never came back—it was an endless stream.”
“So now Ted may have been found, and you have to help figure that out.”
“Yes.”
“And that takes you right back into the endless stream again.”
“Yeah.”
“I totally understand. Toni?”
“Yes.”
“You
