car. “We didn’t get the whole story on Lea…the victim,” she said, quickly correcting herself. “Did you see how he deflected and talked about Becenti instead?” Valerie asked as she climbed behind the wheel. “According to the person I spoke to when I first called, Finley had nothing on his schedule when we were chasing the suspect around the apartment buildings.”
“We should check out Dr. Finley’s background and see if he has alibis that’ll account for his time during either of the murders. He’s obviously familiar with Navajo customs, and he knew one of a hundred and fifty students by name. He also arrived here after a hot, sweaty bike ride—and maybe a run across a roof or two earlier in the day. It could all be coincidence, but it merits a closer look.”
“Those apartments near where we found the body are only a few miles east of the campus. He would have had plenty of time to ditch the sweatshirt and binoculars,” Valerie said, backing out of the parking space. “Finley appears fit, is younger than I expected and the victim was a pretty young woman. I’m going to have a deputy dig deep into the good doctor’s background—and have officers speak to everyone in the victim’s classes.”
“What about this Professor Becenti? He’s in a position to know something about the victim—and Dr. Finley,” Luca suggested. “Should we go back and track him down?”
“He’s supposed to be teaching a class right now. Let’s catch up to him later,” Valerie said.
“Okay. In the meantime, how about showing me the other crime scene?”
“Good idea. The first murder took place out in the county near an irrigation ditch.”
“So either our killer likes changes of scenery or he’s been targeting specific victims and the murders aren’t random,” Luca said.
“We’ll be looking for commonalities between vic one and two, but for now all I know for sure is that they both looked alike—same general description—hair color, height and weight and so on.”
Valerie took the freeway. “You okay if I make a stop to change? I got something sticky on my blouse when I slid down the pipe chasing the hooded perp.”
“Sure.”
Within minutes they arrived at her apartment.
She lived beside a small city park less than a mile west from I-25. Six units stood side by side, all part of a reconverted pueblo-style mansion in an old section of the city. The parking area that surrounded it was nearly empty at the moment.
“Most my neighbors work and are almost never home. Then again, neither am I,” she added with a shrug.
As they entered through the front door, boxes of all sizes and shapes greeted them. One coffee cup with the three little pigs emblazoned on it had been left on top of a large box next to an easy chair. A television stood about four feet in front of it against the wall.
“Just moved in?” he asked.
“Sorta—two months ago. Like I said, I’m never home.” She crossed the small living room and headed to the bedroom. “I’ll be back in a second.”
Valerie stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. There were more clothes on the floor than in the closet or drawers—meaning laundry day was long overdue. She hadn’t had a chance to do more than rinse out a few things in the bathroom sink for the past two weeks. Grabbing one of the few remaining clean shirts from the closet, she hurried back out to meet Luca and found him at the kitchen sink, his hand cupped beneath the faucet.
“Need something?” she asked.
He sipped the water in his hand. “I just wanted a drink,” he said, then dried his hand on a paper towel. “I couldn’t find any glasses.”
“I haven’t unpacked them. I use the Dixie cups,” she said, handing him a three-inch cup. “They were on sale,” she added with a sheepish smile. “See, the thing is I generally don’t have visitors. When I come home it’s just to sleep.”
Valerie knew she was talking too much. She often did that around people she didn’t know well. With so little idle time in her life, her socializing skills stunk. Yet, all things considered, there was no place she’d rather be than hip deep in a case. That was where she excelled.
As Luca entered the cluttered living room, he stopped by the sideboard and reached behind it. A small, broken picture frame was lodged between that piece of furniture and the wall. “Remnants of an old boyfriend?” he asked, fishing it out.
She looked at him in surprise, and laughed, seeing what he was holding. “No boyfriends—old or new. That was undoubtedly left by the previous tenant.” As a kid living with a single mom she’d learned one thing—happily-ever-afters didn’t exist. Everything came with an expiration date—relationships, jobs and even people.
By the time they walked out of her apartment, the sun was low in the sky and sinking fast. “I can take you to the crime scene, but it’ll be dark soon. I doubt we’ll be able to see much.”
“What was the victim’s time of death?” he asked.
“Around nine at night, according to the M.E.”
“This time of year that means it took place just after it got dark. The murder was premeditated, so he probably arrived earlier and waited for her to pass by. I’d like to go over there now and see the place as he did, at around the time the crime went down.”
“This guy felt safe enough at both places to stick around and set the stage, too. That means he must have spent some serious time selecting each site.”
“My guess is that long before the crimes went down, he checked out traffic patterns, people who live in the area and maybe even introduced himself to some of them as, say, a prospective home buyer, so they wouldn’t get suspicious seeing him around.”
“Sometimes serial killers will pose as utility workers, too, so keep that in mind as we poke around the area,” she said. “We’ll check out the first site then, afterward, we’ll get you settled in somewhere.”
“Can you recommend a motel close to your place? It’ll make things easier since we’ll be riding together.”
“The apartment next door to mine is empty for now since my landlord plans to have the place completely repainted. It’s convenient, but the walls are paper-thin,” she said, then with a quick grin added, “If you snore, the deal’s off.”
“Take the risk and find out for yourself.”
His low, husky voice teased her, and a shiver touched the base of her spine. The problem with Luca was that mystery clung to him like a second skin, and her imagination, always up to a challenge, was filling in the gaps in all sorts of interesting ways.
She switched off the ignition. “I’ll tell you what. Get your bag from the back. We can get the key from the landlord. We’ll leave your stuff here, then be on our way.”
A short time later she unlocked the apartment door adjacent to hers and showed him in. With no boxes lying about it looked roomier than hers, though they were exactly the same size.
“A word of warning—hot water’s in demand each morning,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “In other
