Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel (5 page)

Unanswered questions swirled around her. Fatigue, both
emotional and physical, settled in. Hidden photos meant secrets, but what? And what really happened that night when her Jane Doe took her final breath?

Avery switched off the bedside light on the nightstand, then curled up on the bed beside Tess. Time was ticking. She had to find out the truth before the killer struck again and another family was ripped apart.

B
y seven o’clock the next morning, Avery had already eaten blueberry waffles and fruit with Tess, dropped her off at school, and made it in to the office. By the time her team assembled, coffee was simmering beside a box of day-old pastries, and she’d already downed her second cup.

She stood in front of the crime board, whiteboard marker in hand, the urgency in the back of her mind all too real. The first twenty-four hours after a murder were always the most critical, but with a possible serial killer involved, they needed to find him before he struck again. Throwing a Jane Doe into the picture made their job even tougher.

Avery rested her hands on her hips. “Let’s start with our potential witness, Mr. Nomad.”

Mitch leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “We have confirmed statements from several witnesses that most nights he walks through the neighborhood, but there was no sign of him last night.”

“So at least we know our Mr. Nomad is real. Tory, anything on the magnolia tattoo?”

With her exotic model looks and part-Asian heritage, few people took Tory Lambert for a computer geek and white-collar crime expert. But it hadn’t taken long for Avery to notice that
Tory was far more than just a pretty face. Which was why she’d requested Tory join her team. Smart, diligent, and always on top of things, in the past five months, she’d become an integral part of the homicide division.

“Carlos and I hit every tattoo parlor in the area.” Tory looked up from her computer. “Just like in the last case, the flower design is too generic and impossible to trace.”

“It could have been one of these do-it-yourself kits,” Carlos added.

“Carlos would know.”

Avery raised her brow at Mitch’s comment, then turned back to Carlos. “You have personal experience with do-it-yourself tattoo kits?”

“No. What I do know is that they’re pretty impossible to trace if you buy them off the internet.”

“Trust me, he has personal experience,” Mitch threw out. “Show them, Carlos, or if you don’t want to, I’ll be happy to.”

“Show us what?” Tory asked.

“Carlos has a
Cars
tattoo—a sparkly
Cars
tattoo at that—on his right ankle.”

Leave it to Mitch to always lighten the mood.

Avery pressed her lips together. “Isabella?”

Carlos nodded. “You try saying no to a three-year-old wearing a pink fairy costume and princess crown, armed with a bag of temporary tattoos.”

“Give the guy a break, Mitch.” Avery folded her arms across her chest. “Not only does Carlos have a sparkly tattoo on his ankle, he probably only had four hours of sleep last night.”

“Three hours to be exact. Chloe might have just turned four months, but she still doesn’t sleep more than three hours at a time. Funny how I thought detective work was tough. Parenthood is going to kill me.” Carlos rubbed his chin, then looked straight at Mitch. “Though I imagine when Kayleigh sees my
copy of that little black book of yours, she’s going to want to kill you as well—”

“You seriously didn’t.” Mitch sat up.

“Remember that long, boring stakeout back in June?”

“You copied my black book?”

Carlos shrugged. “You were sleeping. It was lying on the floorboard.”

“And you couldn’t just leave it alone.”

Carlos’s smile broadened. “Oh, I knew I’d need some leverage one day.”

“Sleep or no sleep, I’d watch your back if I were you, Mitch.” Avery laughed.

Eight years in the marines as a military interrogator had taught Carlos James Dias how to handle an investigation. And apparently, Mitch as well.

She cleared her throat. “Now, boys, back to our investigation. What about James Philips, and don’t give me another dead end—or wisecrack, for that matter, Mitch.”

“Not another dead end, just nothing new. Yet,” Tory offered. “The bar next to the crime scene has a video camera on the street. We’re planning to go through the footage this morning. Hopefully we’ll get lucky.”

“Good.” Avery let out a sharp breath of air. “Listen. We’re looking at a possible serial killer, which means that time isn’t on our side. Let’s make some progress today.”

Her phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket. “Detective North.”

As soon as she finished the conversation, Avery shoved her phone back into her pocket and grabbed her keys off the desk. Maybe their luck was about to change. “Mitch, you’re with me. They’ve just identified our Jane Doe.”

Thirty minutes later, Avery parked her car in front of the Sourns’ two-story home. The stacked-stone exterior and perfectly
landscaped yard set right behind the golf course easily added up to a million-dollar price tag. This was a place that might actually impress Mama.

Mitch let out a low whistle as he exited the car. “What I wouldn’t do for a paycheck that could afford this place.”

“Then you’re in the wrong line of work.” Avery matched Mitch’s steps as they made their way up the stone steps leading to the front door. “I knew this address was upscale, but this wasn’t at all what I was expecting when we found the body yesterday. Her clothes, hair—nothing about her fits this upper-class profile.”

Avery knocked on the door, tapping her foot on the welcome mat. She took a deep breath. The only thing worse than finding a dead body was having to inform the family of their loss.

A woman in her midfifties with olive skin and dark hair opened the door.

“Mrs. Sourn?”

“Yes.” The woman’s eyes narrowed.

Mitch held up his badge and identified them.

“We understand that you called in a missing person report for your niece.”

“Yes. Tala.” Mrs. Sourn pressed her hands against her chest. “Did you find her? When she didn’t come home, I . . . I didn’t know what to think.”

Avery searched for the right words. Telling a family member they’d just lost someone was never easy. First of all, Mrs. Sourn was going to need the support of friends or family. “Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

“No, but please . . . tell me where she is.”

“Would you mind if we came in and sat down for a few minutes?”

The woman blinked, confusion filling her expression. “No. Of course not.”

She stepped aside, allowing Avery and Mitch to enter the foyer. Inside, the expensive décor matched the exterior of the house. A chandelier hung above them from the high ceiling. Oh, yes. Mama would love this. But as much as she might wish it, this was no social call to one of Mama’s friends.

Avery sat down next to Mitch on the offered couch filled with plush, colorful cushions, while taking in the baby grand in the corner and the expensive artwork hanging on the walls.

Avery pulled out the photo of Tala and handed it to the older woman, who had taken a seat on the other side of the coffee table. “Is this your niece?”

“Tala . . .” Mrs. Sourn grasped the photo. “Yes. That’s her. She told us she was going out with friends.”

“I truly am sorry, but your niece was found murdered yesterday morning.”

“Dead?” Mrs. Sourn stood and turned to face the long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the green, taking the time to compose herself before turning back to them. “I thought maybe she’d gotten into some trouble, but . . . I can’t believe that. Who would murder her?”

“That’s one of the reasons we’re here, ma’am,” Mitch said. “And what we intend to find out.”

Mrs. Sourn sank back into her chair. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand.”

“Where is your husband?”

“He . . . he’s meeting with a number of overseas clients. He told me this morning that I wouldn’t be able to reach him.”

“He went in to work, even with your niece missing?”

“We never imagined anything like this happening.” The woman’s fingers gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. “I told him not to worry. That she’d probably spent the night with a friend. I decided to let the police know just in case, but I was so sure that she’d be home by now.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“We ate dinner together Sunday night. She left right after we finished.”

“She has a car?”

“No, someone picked her up.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Tala was a very private person.”

“Tell me about your niece.”

“Like I said, she was a quiet, private girl. Didn’t have many friends.” Mrs. Sourn cleaned her glasses on the hem of her shirt, then slid them back on. “She never caused us any problems.”

“Did you try to call her?”

“Her cell phone . . . it must have been dead. I never got through.”

“You said she didn’t come home,” Mitch said. “Was that normal?”

“No. She was a good girl. Cheerful. Responsible.”

“Was there a change in her behavior?”

“She’d been moody the past few weeks, but not enough for me to really worry. I should have worried. I should have said something and tried to talk to her.”

“How long had your niece been living with you?”

“Just a few months, since she graduated from high school. She planned to take some time off, then start college in January.”

“I’m going to need a list of her friends with their phone numbers. Anyone who might know where she was Sunday night.”

Mrs. Sourn slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure I will be a lot of help with that.”

“Why not?”

“She’d made a few friends since moving here, but she didn’t bring them here, and I didn’t ask. She was over eighteen. I felt as if she had the right to live as she pleased. I could show you her room.”

Avery nodded, then stood. “That would help.”

Tala’s room was located on the second floor, elegant like the rest of the house, but simple. A few scatterings of personal things filled the room. A stuffed frog on the bed, high school diploma hanging on the wall, and a jewelry box. Neat. Spotless.

Avery ran her fingers across the top of the built-in desk next to the window where a row of romance and mystery novels sat. “You mentioned a cell phone, what about a computer?”

“Tala wasn’t into computers or electronic things. She reads a lot and watches TV. As for her cell phone, I assumed she had it with her.”

Avery made a mental note to get a trace going on the missing phone as soon as they left. “Did she work?”

“No, like I said, she was planning to start college in a few months. My husband and I had agreed to take care of any financial needs she had.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“She was family. We didn’t mind.”

Avery pulled the second photo from her pocket. “This photo was found on her body. Her face is partially hidden, but do you recognize the other girl?”

Mrs. Sourn adjusted her glasses. “I’ve never seen this photo. That is Tala, but the other girl . . . no. I don’t recognize her.”

“So you’ve never seen her before?”

“No.” Mrs. Sourn handed the photo back to Avery. “Like I said, Tala was a private person. She tended to avoid the camera.”

“What about her parents?” Mitch asked.

“Her parents were killed in a car accident about six months ago, which is why Tala decided to come live with us.”

“Where was her family originally from?” Avery asked.

“Vietnam.”

“Does she have other family either here or in Vietnam?”

“Distant family, but Tala lived in the US her whole life. She didn’t even have a passport.”

Avery and Mitch followed the older woman out of the room and back down the stairs to the living room. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“No. She was pretty much alone in the world. My husband and I felt sorry for her and believed the least we could do was let her live here.”

They stopped in the middle of the living room, and Avery caught the older woman’s gaze. “Mrs. Sourn, I do need to ask you, where were you Monday morning between two and four?”

Mrs. Sourn sat back down in her chair. The reality of the situation had begun to sink in. “I was here with my husband. He can verify that.”

“I have one last question for now, Mrs. Sourn. Your niece had a tattoo on her shoulder. What can you tell us about it?”

“The tattoo . . .” Mrs. Sourn’s fingers grasped the edges of her chair. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think she had it when she moved here.”

“So you don’t know when or where she got it?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

Avery pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to the older woman. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Sourn. We’ll be in touch again soon, but if you think of anything else that might help us find Tala’s killer, please call.”

“Of course.”

“We will need to speak to your husband as well. Do you know when he’ll be available?”

“He told me he’d be home for dinner.”

Mrs. Sourn didn’t move from her chair, her face pale.

“Are you going to be all right, ma’am?” Mitch stepped forward. “Can I call someone for you?”

“No. I . . . I’ll be fine.”

Avery nodded at Mitch. “Then we’ll see ourselves out.”

Outside, golf carts buzzed along the green in the distance, a world away from the stench of death and loss.

A few moments later, Avery gripped the steering wheel as she drove out of the neighborhood with Mitch beside her.