chill shot through Fiona’s heart. “Where’s she been?”
“No one seems to know. The roommate says she didn’t come home last Thursday night, and she hasn’t been seen since.”
“Has a missing person’s report been filed?”
He shook his head. “The roommate said Alicia didn’t want to get the police involved.”
“Why not?”
“Because she didn’t want their parents to find out. According to the roommate, Lexi has a habit of disappearing. Seems she got involved with a married man last semester, and the two of them used to sneak off for days at a time without telling anyone because he insisted they keep the affair a secret. The roommate says Lexi broke off the relationship before Christmas, but when she didn’t come home this time, Alicia was afraid she’d gone off with him again. The roommate said Alicia thought she could find her on her own, talk some sense into her, and the parents would never have to know.”
Fiona leaned forward and carefully placed the cup on the table. The sudden infusion of caffeine had given her a bad case of the shakes. “Did their roommate say who this married man was?”
“She didn’t know. She said Alicia didn’t know for sure, either, but she told the roommate she had her suspicions.”
“Do you think this guy could have had something to do with Alicia’s death? Maybe he was afraid she knew about him and Lexi.”
Doggett shrugged. “It’s possible. Right now it’s the only lead we’ve got. Hopefully we’ll know more after the autopsy.”
“Did you call Lori?” Fiona asked anxiously.
“I spoke with her a little while ago.”
“How did she take it? Is she...okay?” A stupid question. Lori Guest had just learned that one daughter had been murdered and the other one was missing. Of course, she wasn’t okay. She’d probably never be okay again.
Oh, God...
“She’s flying into O’Hare sometime later this morning,” Doggett said.
“Did you talk to her husband?”
“No, just Mrs. Guest.”
Fiona rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I’ve been asking myself over and over why Alicia called me last week, and now I think I know. She wanted me to help her find Lexi. When I didn’t call her back, she went searching for her sister on her own. And now she’s dead.”
“You’re not blaming yourself for that, are you?” Doggett’s blue eyes pierced through Fiona’s armor with hardly any resistance, and she found herself wondering, unaccountably and inappropriately, if there was a woman in his life.
“I know Alicia’s death wasn’t my fault,” she said with a frown. “But I’ll always wonder what might have happened if I had called her back. Maybe I could have helped her, and maybe she’d still be alive.”
“And maybe,” Doggett said in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “You’d be lying in the morgue with her right now.”
CHAPTER SIX
MEREDITH SWEENEY, the assistant ME, had Alicia Mercer’s X-rays waiting for Doggett a few hours later when he arrived at the Chicago Technical Park where the morgue was located.
He studied the skull X-rays. “Was I right about the bullet hole? A .45 caliber slug, right?”
Meredith shook her dark head. “No, but that’s what I thought, too, at first, so don’t feel bad. When I calibrated the hole, though, I found it somewhat smaller than .5 inches. The wound is more consistent with a .40 caliber or 10 mm bullet.”
Doggett glanced at her. “You sure about that?”
She shrugged. “You can measure it for yourself if you want.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” The information didn’t necessarily mean anything, but on the other hand, Doggett found it interesting. In recent years, .40 caliber weapons had come into wide use by law enforcement agencies all over the country, including the Chicago PD. Doggett’s own service weapon was a Glock 27, a piece favored by a lot of undercover cops.
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up for any kind of ballistics match,” Meredith told him. She pointed to the left side of the victim’s skull, in the area behind the eye socket where metallic density showed as white flecks on the X-ray.
“A lead snowstorm,” Doggett muttered.
“Exactly. You can actually see where the bullet disintegrated as it traveled through the body, which means it must have been partially jacketed.” She moved to another X-ray and indicated an anomalous object in the pelvis area. “I suspect this is where we’ll find the bullet, what’s left of it.”
Doggett nodded. “What about the bruises around her wrists?”
“Looks like he used a nylon cord, the kind you can buy in any hardware store.”
“And the mark on her shoulder?”
“We’ve sent a sample of the ink to the lab, but you can get stamp pads in any discount or office supply store, and those temporary tattoos are sold out of vending machines.”
“It’s the symbol that’s bugging me,” Doggett said. “Why a trident?”
“At least it’s not a swastika,” Meredith said dryly. “Or a pentagram. God knows we see our share of those.” She gave Doggett a moment longer to study the X-rays. “Are you staying for the autopsy?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t just a matter of duty, but a matter of conscience. His way of paying respect to the victim. Doggett never walked out on an autopsy, no matter how gruesome.
Meredith nodded briskly. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”
Doggett followed her into the autopsy room where Alicia Mercer’s nude body waited for them on a cold, stainless-steel table.
* * *
THE AIR-CONDITIONING in the courtroom was operating in hyperdrive, and Fiona shivered as she glanced around the packed benches, picking out faces in the crowd that she recognized. She was seated at the prosecution table with Milo, who was busy going over his notes. Fiona knew that she should do the same, but her gaze kept straying back to the visitors’ block where a dozen or more cops from Area Three, both in uniforms and plainclothes, had turned out in a show of support for Vince DeMarco.
Fiona came from a long line of cops. The Gallaghers were almost legendary in the police department. Her grandfather, her father, her three brothers...all Chicago PD. So she knew cops. She knew how they walked, how they talked, how they thought. But the one thing she’d never been able to understand about them, no matter their rank, was the blind loyalty to the brotherhood.
Most of the police officers she knew were good, decent, hardworking guys who would never, in a million years, condone rape. They recognized the crime for what it was—an act of violence.
