back to my personal life—I’ve always been an independent woman…to an extent. I guess I didn’t realize how cautious I’d actually been or how far I’d gone out of the way to avoid risk in my professional life until the hearing loss happened. In the process of relearning to live my life, I’d come to understand there was more I wanted to do.
Much more.
This was right where I wanted to be.
Ray Patterson had better watch out. I had every intention of showing him what a woman could do. Including leaving him in the dust on our first assignment.
The light above the door leading from the living room into the kitchen flashed, alerting me to another phone call.
I missed the little things, I considered as I made my way into the living room. A ringing phone, a dripping faucet. All those irritating noises you wished would go away forever. Guess what? You missed them.
This time the caller ID showed Metro dispatch. Not a good start to a Sunday morning. I should have gone to IHOP. Now I would end up going to work hungry.
“Walters.”
I watched the display as the words spilled across. A possible homicide victim had been discovered. The location came next. I recognized the Green Hills neighborhood. Patterson and I had our first case.
Now we’d see what the guy had to back up all that macho bluster.
I headed to my bedroom to change. Thank God my usual uniform didn’t include fishnets or stilettos.
To my surprise Chief Barlow waited at the crime scene.
The lessons I’d learned at the forensics academy immediately kicked in, drawing my attention to the grisly details of the scene that had been cordoned off by yellow tape.
According to the uniform who filled me in, the body had been discovered by a young woman walking her dog. A walking trail between a swanky residential area and a shopping mall provided the background.
The techs were already in place, marking potential evidence and snapping photographs. The medical examiner’s van arrived as I walked over to speak with Barlow.
I wanted to see the body but since he stood between me and it, I took that as my cue.
“What’ve we got?” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard detectives in movies ask that same question. God, I’m turning into a cliché.
Just like the Harrison murder, Barlow told me.
It wasn’t necessary to analyze the grim expression on his face or the statement to understand what he meant. I had worked the Harrison murder, which was still unsolved.
Reba Harrison had been found scarcely a block from her upscale home. The primary detail that stood out in my mind about the case was the brutal way in which she had been raped.
Most of the sexual activity had taken place while she was still alive, but not all. The foreplay leading up to murder had lasted several hours. The bruising around the wrists and the ankles indicated she had been restrained most of that time. She’d been strangled with the same type of cord used to restrain her.
Finally, her body, adorned with nothing more than exaggerated makeup and a tiara, had been dumped in the meticulously landscaped bushes along her street.
“Has the victim been identified?” As I asked this question my new partner strolled up next to me. I didn’t bother saying good morning. Clearly it wasn’t going to be one.
Barlow acknowledged Patterson’s presence with a nod then said to me, Mallory Wells. Twenty-four. Single. Moved to Nashville three years ago to break into the country music business.
Just like Reba Harrison, only Reba had been a lifetime resident. She’d had the same professional aspirations.
Looks like we’ve got ourselves a serial killer.
This from Patterson.
I resisted the urge to say duh. What he didn’t know was that we had already made that connection when Reba Harrison died. Almost every step of her murder matched those of a suspected serial killer from four years ago, before my time. The killer had murdered six women in the Nashville area, all involved with the country-music business on one level or the other, then he’d apparently disappeared. The case was still unsolved.
Perhaps, Barlow allowed. The evidence will confirm or refute that conclusion.
I knew Barlow was thinking the very same thing I was, this guy is back, but I couldn’t help reveling in his noncommittal response to my cocky partner. Before I had time to fully enjoy the moment, Barlow shifted his full attention back to me.
I’ll need you and Patterson to focus solely on this case, in the event the two murders are connected to each other or to any past cases. I’ll be passing the Johnson case to Holderfield.
I opened my mouth to argue and Barlow motioned for me to follow him away from the fray of ongoing activity.
Patterson had the good sense to make himself scarce.
“You know that’s my case, too,” I said the instant Barlow stopped and shifted his attention back to me. “Shameka is my witness and Johnson is my perp. It’s my job to help find him.” It was the least I could do after what Shameka had gone through.
Those analyzing blue eyes studied me a moment before he spoke. Barlow did that a lot. He liked to mull over what he wanted to say before he opened his mouth. Saved him the taste of shoe leather quite frequently, I reasoned. I should take a page from that book. But then, I had pretty much acquired a taste for the stuff. Why change now?
We’re going to get Johnson. He’s made. Every cop in the city wants him. This one— he glanced toward the victim and the crime-scene techs circling around her—is going to be different. If it’s connected to those old murders, I don’t want the killer to get away this time. I want your keen eye on this one, Merri. I need my best and freshest on it.
Okay. He’d earned himself some major points with that monologue. Still, I couldn’t help thinking he was only doing this to get me off the Johnson case. It seemed like every time I got close to nabbing a perp he hustled me out of harm’s way. This turn of events sounded suspiciously like that. Johnson had seen me just as clearly as I’d seen him. He would likely want revenge for those who set him up, and it wouldn’t take a scientist to figure out I’d been part of a sting. I knew how guys like him thought. He was going down, he had nothing to lose. That put me in the line of fire right along with Shameka.
Irritation niggled at me. I’ll bet if I checked the roster I would find that a unit had been stationed outside my house since the op to take down Johnson went sour. Part of me understood that was a reasonable move, but another part, the side that worried my hearing impairment would be considered first and foremost even before my skill level, didn’t like the idea that he thought I couldn’t take care of myself.
“I guess I should be flattered,” I said, allowing him to hear the skepticism I felt. “I’m assuming I’m lead.” I had seniority over Patterson so that should have been a given, but I wanted the point clarified.
You’re lead. Patterson will fall in line.
Maybe he would
