minute he shook his head the room flipped upside down. What a mistake that was. He needed to move them along. “I’ve got to get going. Why don’t you guys go into the kitchen? Get breakfast or whatever you do at six o’clock in the morning, I need to get up.”
“Carmen, go to the kitchen, I want to talk to Uncle Jake,” Marisa said, ignoring Carmen’s protests. “Go now, Carmen, or I’ll hurt you.”
“Oh, all right, but I’m stronger than you are and you don’t scare me. And I don’t fight women,” Carmen said before leaving the room.
“You should be nicer to him, Marisa. Someday he’s going to be much bigger than you.”
“I need to talk to you alone, Uncle Jake. You have to talk to my parents about me going to this party on Friday. It’s an important party. Anyone who counts is going to be there. They’ll listen to you. Please?” she said, her eyes pleading with him.
“Marisa, your father told me about the party. I agree with them on this. You’re asking for trouble with no adult supervision. Plus, I’m not at the top of your mother’s good list right now.” He rubbed his aching forehead.
“So, your answer is no? I thought you loved me,” she whined.
“I do, but I’m not talking to them about this. Maybe I should tell this kid’s parents he’s planning on having a wild party while they’re away.” He studied her.
“You can’t, Uncle Jake. Promise me you won’t. I wouldn’t be able to show my face in school ever again. Please promise?” Marisa begged.
“I’ll think about it, now scram.”
Sophia walked into the room as Marisa rushed out.
“Aren’t you the mean one first thing in the morning? How do you feel today?”
“Crowded.”
* * * *
After turning down Sophia’s offer of breakfast, Jake drove home to shower and changed before heading to the station. At the threshold of the bullpen, Jake looked around. No one was in any shape to work except the captain. He walked to his desk and started right in on the murder book for Shanna Wagner’s case.
“Hey, Lieutenant, you left early last night,” Burke shouted from across the room.
“Yep, I left for a special dinner engagement. Sophia served homemade pasta and sauce with fresh baked bread. Who could pass up such a succulent dinner?” Burke looked ill. “She also served homemade tiramisu. The best I’ve ever tasted, talk about pure nirvana. I had two helpings,” he lied.
“God, don’t talk food right now, it could get messy. Got any antacids?” Burke asked.
“Amateurs,” Jake said, his head pounding like a bass guitar, as he immersed himself in the Wagner file.
The evidence was the evidence was the evidence. He had read this file on and off for the last few weeks. Nothing popped out saying, “Hey, you missed me.” But there had to be something they’d missed along the way, some important fact. Yesterday his attention was divided in all directions. Today he’d concentrate on Shanna’s murder. Not trusting his emotions or the similarities to Eva’s case, Jake decided to start over with no distractions. He had fun last night, but he should have stayed home and worked Eva’s file. He’d never forgive himself if Spaulding went free.
Each crime needed new eyes and no preconceived notions. He put everyone back on the suspect list, even the ones he and Louie had cleared. He picked up the crime scene photos and laid them out on his desk. Every insult, every trauma Shanna received was graphically displayed. Kids had discovered her body in the woods at the end of a cul-de-sac of a new housing development. None of the houses had been occupied at the time. The naked body had landed face up. Her clothes never turned up, nor did the item the killer had used to strangle her. The M.E. concluded the deep ligature marks around Shanna’s neck was the cause of death. She’d been sexually assaulted—severe bruising in and around the genitals. Doctor Lang estimated the rape had been committed with a long, hard stick due to the severity of the bruising. No semen was found in or around the body. The killer must’ve used protection, if he did penetrate her. Rolled, not placed, Jake remembered. She’d been in the field about four days according to the M.E. There were no fibers under her nails. He figured the scratches on the torso and the face were caused when she was rolled down the short embankment. Trace didn’t find any skin or hair other than the victim’s. No fibers were found near the body. No jewelry left on the victim, a fact that had always bothered him. The killer had tried to make it look as if a robbery had gone bad. The perp had left Shanna with nothing.
He wrote down new questions. Was it a crime of passion or jealousy or a robbery gone bad? Why take the jewelry? Was it an afterthought? Did he try to conceal her identity? Why, to delay identification, to humiliate, or both? One killer or two? He and Louie always assumed one. Why not dump her further into the field to make it more difficult to find her? Was the killer not strong enough to carry her far? On his list of things to recheck first he listed pawn shops. He’d redistribute the pictures of the missing jewelry. Maybe by some miracle of God some of it had showed up and a careless clerk didn’t report it. Did the killer take the emerald ring and other items as a souvenir or for their value?
The emerald ring, an heirloom passed down from grandmother to granddaughter for generations, Shanna never took it off, according to family members. Valued at fifty thousand dollars, the ring alone provided a motive. Every day, she had worn a gold cross with a diamond in the center, and a name bracelet her sister Chloe had given her for her birthday. Earrings she had varied with her outfits. Two of the three items would have made identification easy, even if they hadn’t had fingerprints and dental records.
He made a note to ask Mrs. Wagner what, if anything, Chloe had received from her grandmother.
Next, he’d redo the timeline for her parents and sister at the time of the murder. Did Shanna and Chloe fight often? Two sisters, close in age, each unique. Their coloring differed, as did their personalities, friends, and interests. Did they hang out together? Did they share friends? Did they dip into the same dating pool?
Movement at the captain’s door caught his eye. With a jerk of his head Shamus called him into his office.
“Tag Louie, there’s a body in the trunk of a car at the Chevy dealer off exit 25,” McGuire said, handing Jake a sheet of paper with few details. “Oh, and Jake, once you’re settled into your office, you’ll be assigning the cases.”
“Louie won’t be in great shape,” Jake replied.
“No one in this squad is. How late did you guys stay out last night?”
“I’m not sure. Louie and I got driven home by a uniform. Sophia’s pissed. She cooked dinner and we didn’t show up. She made me stay on their couch.”
McGuire chuckled. “Get him and secure the scene. Here’s a list of missing persons. See who fits the description of the person in the trunk.”
“Is it a man or a woman?” Jake asked. “I’ll have Louie take the lead on this one, while I concentrate on the Wagner case.”
“Your call. At this time, we don’t have any more information. The salesman who found the body is on the lot throwing up. The manager didn’t get much more out of him.”
On
