Dying Scream (33 page)

Tony surveyed her appearance. “I don’t know. Must be a little messed up.”

Tucking a stray strand behind her ear, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d put on high heels and make-up. “Seems to be the kind that likes me the best.”

Dean grinned. “Good money says the doctor’s got a thing for you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

The two guys exchanged amused glances. “Be straight with us, Tess. We’ve got money riding on a bet.”

“You got a bet on my love life?”

“I’d bet you never go out with him,” Tony said.

“Why?”

“You’re a bitter woman, Ms. Kier,” Tony said. The amusement in his voice didn’t soften the words as much as he’d intended.

“I’m not bitter.” To prove it she tried to soften the muscles in her body. “I’m in the middle of a case, which I don’t want to screw up.” She
wasn’t
bitter. Intense, yes, but
not
bitter.

That managed to wipe the grins from their faces.

The doors opened and she followed the gurney down the long tiled hallway toward the autopsy room. Tony pushed the body through the swinging doors and immediately she was hit by the smell of formaldehyde and alcohol. Without thinking, she started to breathe through her mouth.

Standing in the corner of the autopsy room was Alex, who leaned against a metal counter, his head bowed over a clipboard.

Her stomach churned. Tony’s comment about the bet goaded her.

“We’ve got your Jane Doe, Doc,” Tony said.

Alex raised his head from the clipboard. His brown gaze skittered over her first before landing on Tony. “Thanks, Tony, Dean. I appreciate it.” He glanced back toward Tess. “You look tired.”

Did tired mean
tired
or did it mean
you look like a wreck
? Crap. “Thanks.”

Alex looked confused. “It wasn’t a compliment. It was an observation.”

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her coveralls. “Right.”

Dean grinned. “Gals don’t like to hear they look tired or fat.”

That seemed to surprise Alex. “I don’t think she looks fat at all.”

Tony shuddered. “Never even mention the F-word in front of a woman. When I was first married, my wife asked me if a dress made her look fat. I said it wasn’t the dress but her ass.”

Dean laughed. “He slept on the sofa for a month.”

“Tell me about it.”

Alex watched the interplay between the two men. “I just think she looks like she can use a break.”

“I told her on the elevator she looked a little rough,” Tony said.

“Can we stop analyzing my appearance?” Tess said. She dropped her gaze to her clipboard. The sheets Alex needed to sign were on top but pretending to rummage gave her something to do.

“So, Dr. Genius,” Tony said with a smile. “I got another puzzler for you. Saw it in the paper on Sunday.”

A smile lifted the edge of Alex’s lips. “Shoot.”

Tony pulled a rumbled piece of paper from his pocket and started to read. “What timepiece has the least number of moving parts?”

Tess rolled her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything? I thought you guys had another body to pick up?”

Tony shrugged. “He ain’t going anywhere. Besides, I like to try and stump the doc.”

Alex pretended to think but she sensed he knew the answer before Tony had finished the question. “A sundial.”

“Right. I have one more.”

Alex’s face was a study in patience. “Shoot.”

Tess thought she’d jump out of her skin. “Look, Tony, I need paperwork signed so I can get back on the road. I still have two robberies to process.”

Tony looked disappointed. “So what’s got you in such a foul mood?”

“I’m always in a foul mood,” Tess said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Tony and Dean laughed. They transferred the black body bag to the metal table in the middle of the room before moving toward the doors.

“We’ll see you two later,” Tony said. “We got another customer waiting.”

Folks from the outside wouldn’t have understood such callousness in the presence of death. But all cops quickly learned that if you didn’t blow off some steam, you’d go nuts.

“Wise guys,” she muttered.

They left and suddenly the room took on a different air. Anyone else and she’d have made small talk: inquired about weekend plans or asked about the kids or hobbies. But with Alex she didn’t know what to say. So, she moved toward him and held out her clipboard. “I need your John Hancock.”

From a pocket protector he pulled out a pen. He glanced at the pages and scanned them. She’d heard he was a skilled speed-reader. After another moment, he signed the paper, his signature bold and firm, before handing the clipboard back to her.

“Thank you,” he said. He tucked the pen back in his pocket protector.

“That pocket protector standard issue at MIT?” she snapped before she thought.

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “No.”

“Sorry, that didn’t come out right. Way too bitchy. I just don’t see guys who wear those things that often.”

He didn’t seem bothered. “No problem.”

The guy was being nice and still he annoyed her. God, she needed to check the calendar and make sure her period wasn’t due. “Gage and Vega will be here soon. They asked that I wait until they got here.”

Alex held her gaze. “So tell me what you have.”

Thank God there was always business to discuss. “White female, midthirties. Gunshot wound to the head. I suspect sexual assault.”

He frowned. “Based on?”

“Bruising on the hips and thighs. She was also restrained, I think, based on raw marks around her waist. My gut tells me it’s the same guy.”

“Your gut?”

“Yeah.” She felt defensive. “Remember. Illogical emotion?”

“Right.”

Her ego bristled, but she let it go. “I need to roll her prints. Gage is itching for an ID.”

“Sure. I’ll do it now.” It took less than ten minutes before Dr. Butler had pressed the dead woman’s fingers into an inkpad and rolled the prints on a fingerprint card.

He handed it to her. “There you go.”

“Thanks.”

“You really don’t look well, Tess.”

“I’m just not sleeping well. Cases like this drive me a little nuts.”

Worry crept into his gaze. “That’s not good.”

“I know. I know. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it together for the sake of the case.”

“How about for your own sake?”

Was it his words, his soft, determined tone, or just the moment? Tess didn’t know which had her raising her gaze to his, and for the first time she felt a sense of calmness as if she’d reached the eye of a storm. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.”

An odd electricity shot through her body. Crap. What the hell was that about?

Gage and Vega pushed through the door. They had grim faces and both sported thick five o’clock shadows. Chances were neither would see their homes for days. Cops went nonstop until cases like this were solved.

Tess moved toward them and felt the tension in her muscles return. “We just arrived. I was filling in the doctor.”

Gage extended his hand to Alex. As Alex accepted Gage’s hand, the sinew in his own arm tightened. Alex might have been the brainy type but the guy could hold his own. She wasn’t sure why that mattered.

“Doc,” Gage said, “I’m hoping you can tell me something about Jane Doe sooner rather than later.”

Alex nodded. “I just rolled the prints. I’ll get to the autopsy as soon as I can.”

Jaw tightening, Gage swung his gaze on Dr. Butler like the barrel of a gun. “How soon?”

Alex didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed anything but intimidated. Behind the calm she sensed steel. “Just as soon as I can.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Thursday, October 5, 8:00 a.m.

When Gage arrived at the county’s forensics lab, his shoulder felt as if it were filled with rocks. He’d spent most of the night sharing his notes with Warwick on the other two missing women. It had been a long, grueling session. He’d had time to go home, shower, and brew a strong pot of coffee before heading back to the county forensics lab.

More than a couple of times during the night Adrianna’s name had come up. He’d thought about her alone at her store working late into the night.

Shoving aside the gnawing worry, Gage pushed through the door of the examining room. Tess leaned over a microscope, adjusting the focus dial.

She didn’t glance up. “I think I know who your Jane Doe is. I’m just double-checking to be sure.”

“Give me what you have.”

“Tammy Borden.” Tess shifted the fingerprint to check another marker.

Energy shot through Gage. “Are you sure?”

“Ninety-nine percent. You know her?”

“Shit. I should have seen it yesterday. I knew she looked familiar.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s the drunk driver that hit Craig Thornton.”

Tess straightened. “Crap.”

Gage muttered an oath. “Another connection to Craig Thornton.”

“And Adrianna.”

Gage shook his head, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started to pace. “Damn.”

Warwick pushed through the doors. He’d showered and changed but looked as if he’d not slept. “What do you have?”

Gage gave him the update.

Warwick rested his hands on his hips. “You were right. Whoever is killing these women is connected to the Thorntons.”

“I want to release the gravesite and let the excavation continue. I’d bet money we’ll find Jill Lable there.”

“Nothing showed up on the radar earlier, correct?”

“We’re missing something. It’s in that graveyard. I’m certain.”

“All right. Dig away.”

Gage couldn’t find Adrianna at her shop or her mother’s. He’d left her several voicemail messages for her to call, but she’d returned none of them.

“Where the hell are you?” he said into the voicemail of her phone.

Gage slid it back in its holster as he climbed the stairs to the parole offices. The large room was filled with cubicles filled with officers and their parolees. He found Ethan Martinez’s cubicle in back of the room. Martinez, a heavyset guy with a white shirt and a loose black tie, leaned back in his chair, his phone pressed to his ear. When Gage knocked on the side of the booth, Martinez turned. Gage held up his badge and Martinez ended his call.

The springs on Martinez’s chair groaned as he pushed his bulk forward and up. “Yes, sir?”

“Gage Hudson, Henrico Police.” They shook hands.

“What can I do for you?”

“A question about one of your parolees.”

Martinez frowned and retook his seat. “Have a seat and tell me who’s done what to whom.”

Gage sat next to the desk piled high with files. There was a half-eaten jelly donut on a napkin next to a cup of black coffee. “Tammy Borden was found murdered yesterday. She’d been shot.”

Martinez turned to the folders in front of him and thumbed through the tabs until he found the right one halfway down. “She just got out two weeks ago. What happened?”

“She was found in a dump site off the access road to the landfill in the western part of the county. We know she was held for a couple of days, sexually assaulted, and shot.”

He opened the file, glanced at her picture, and then turned the file toward Gage. “Damn.”

Gage glanced at the sunken features of the woman, whose eyes were downcast. “What can you tell me about her?”

“She checked in with me as she was supposed to on Tuesday. She was shaky. Chain-smoked. She was finding it hard to stay sober now that she was on the outside. I suggested an AA meeting near her house.”

“Did she make the meeting?”

“Yeah. I called and checked behind her. Her meeting leader said she seemed committed to the program. Stayed for the whole thing.”

“Where was the meeting? And where does her mother live?”

Martinez rattled off names and numbers for both. “If she was in trouble, she never said a word to me. But then they don’t all see me as the good guy.”

Craig sat in the lobby of the Madison Hotel in a discreet corner, his back to the wall. He sipped an iced tea. Adrianna was late. She should have been here fifteen minutes ago and it wasn’t like her to be late. He’d been too busy today to keep tabs on her, but he’d not worried knowing she’d had a seven o’clock meeting here.

As he sipped his tea, his mind drifted back to the tape he’d made of his latest girl. A disappointment from the moment he’d taken her. Skinny, weak, almost too cooperative, she reminded him of a wounded animal. At least the other two had had some fight in them.

At least the other two had been more like Adrianna.

A waitress approached him with a pitcher of tea. “Fill up?”

He smiled and held up his glass as he glanced at her name tag. “Thanks, Jessie.”

Jessie smiled and filled up his glass. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Just the check when you get the chance.”

“Sure.”

“Appreciate it.”

He watched as she walked toward another table and spoke to another guest.

Jessie Hudson. She had fire. She had spirit and he’d bet anything she’d keep him entertained for days. Just the thought of her sent tremors of desire through him. He was under orders not to kill again. But he was starting to resent the rules and being told what to do.

He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. As he grabbed his keys and prepared to leave, Adrianna rushed through the front door of the hotel.

Smiling, he watched her vanish around a corner. Yes, sir, he was starting to really resent the rules.

Gage and Vega tracked down the group leader for the local AA meeting. He worked out of a church on Northside in a small office crammed full of books, pamphlets, and papers. “Dr. Stewart?”

A pale skinny man with reddish hair and glasses glanced up at them. “Yes?”

Gage and Vega pulled out their badges. “We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about the AA meeting you ran last week.”

Frowning he rose. “Which night?”

“Wednesday. One of the women who attended that meeting was found murdered. Tammy Borden.”

Shock gave him a ghostly pallor. “My God. What happened?”

“Can’t say right now, but I just need to know who was at the meeting.”