Catch her death, p.4
Catch Her Death, page 4
“It was. At least he left the child unharmed, I guess. The victim’s husband was distraught when I told him. Imagine waking up on Christmas Eve to be reminded that the woman you loved was savagely beaten to death the night before.”
Nate doesn’t have to imagine too hard. It may not have happened during the holidays but his fiancée was brutally murdered in the same way. He served seventeen years on death row in Texas for her murder before finally being exonerated just two years ago.
Madison touches his arm. “Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”
He puts his hand on hers and smiles. “It’s not about me. And I know you’ll find the asshole who did this.”
She looks thoughtful. “I wish you were working with me. Can’t you become a cop? It would make my life a lot easier.”
It’s not the first time she’s said that, but he scoffs at the idea. It was a dirty cop who helped land him on death row, so he doesn’t have the same level of respect for law enforcement as Madison does. “Don’t you get a new partner today?”
She moves her hand and takes a deep breath. “Sure do. Fingers crossed it’s Shelley or Steve. But I can’t help worrying about who would replace them.”
She grabs her car keys and they both head outside, with Brody following them. The dog jumps into the back seat of Nate’s Chevy Traverse when Owen opens the door for him.
To Madison, Nate says, “I’ll let you know what Richie tells us. Good luck with your investigation.”
“Thanks.”
He watches as she backs her car out of the driveway first. He’d give anything to be working the homicide case with her, but he’s only a PI. And since he helped solve the disappearance of Ruby and Oliver Rader last month, he’s a PI without a client. Which means it’s time to find another case to work on.
CHAPTER SIX
Madison enters the station and makes her way to the offices, expecting to see either Shelley or Steve preparing for their new role as detective. There’s no sign of them. She approaches the dispatcher’s cubicle, where Stella Myers is just finishing up a call. Stella’s worked at the station for years and has just switched from the graveyard shift to days in preparation of eventually retiring. “Morning, Stella. Did any tips come in overnight about the Sarah Moss homicide?”
“Morning.” Stella spins around in her seat and lowers her headset to her shoulders, careful not to pull off her short wig in the process. It’s gray with blue tips that match her glasses. “Dina took a couple of calls overnight,” she says, “but nothing promising. Sergeant Tanner has been following up.” Dina Blake is the other dispatcher, who mostly works nights.
Madison nods. She peers over at Chief Carmen Mendes’s office and does a double take when she sees a man in a navy suit sitting opposite the chief’s desk. He looks like a Fed to her. Mendes notices her and motions for her to enter. Madison turns back to Stella. “Who’s that guy?”
Stella slips her headset on as if she doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. “I’ll let the chief introduce you.”
Madison has a bad feeling about this. She approaches the office and opens the door.
“Madison,” says Chief Mendes. “This is Don Douglas’s replacement, Marcus Adams.”
Madison looks at the guy as he stands. He’s about forty, with jet-black hair, a tanned complexion even though it’s winter and a stiff posture that leads her to believe he’s uptight. She shakes his outstretched hand before turning to Mendes. “Could I speak to you in private, Chief?”
Mendes crosses her arms and ignores Madison’s question. “Detective Adams previously worked as a sergeant in Denver. He has excellent credentials and I think he’ll be a good fit in the department.”
Marcus Adams clears his throat. “I’m guessing you’re disappointed one of your buddies didn’t get the job?”
Madison doesn’t want to make the guy feel bad, but it’s a strange decision to employ an outsider who doesn’t know the town or the locals. Detective Douglas was an outsider, and the locals never took to him. There’s a small-town mentality that a city cop might not get. That’s going to make both their jobs harder when it comes to getting witness testimony and the trust of the community. “I’m sure you’re a great cop,” she says, “but why in the world would you move to somewhere like Lost Creek from a big city? Were you fired or something? Got caught doing something you shouldn’t?” She doesn’t mean it as an insult; she’s genuinely interested.
“Are you serious?” he says. His jaw tenses.
Chief Mendes looks at Adams. “Give us a minute, would you? Why not get someone to show you around the place. I’m sure you’ll want to know where the facilities are.”
Adams eyeballs Madison as he brushes past her. He’s clearly the sensitive type, which is another reason he’s wrong for the job. She closes the door behind him. “With all due respect, Chief, why would you hire him over Shelley or Steve? You’re sending the message that the team here can’t progress. Shelley’s a fine police officer and Steve’s the best sergeant I’ve ever worked with. Don’t they deserve a chance to do something else if they want to?”
Chief Mendes takes a seat behind her desk, which is finally starting to show some sign of her personality. Previously neat and tidy, like Mendes herself, it now has a small potted cactus in one corner and a stack of paperwork scattered on top. A spare suit jacket hangs from the coat rack, and the walls are starting to fill with certificates and accreditations. It’s taken five months in the role, but Madison thinks Chief Mendes has finally decided to stay in town and make this job work. She’s relieved, as the woman is better than the previous chief she worked under.
Mendes looks at her. “What does it say on that gold shield you wear on your hip, Madison?”
She sighs, anticipating a telling-off. “Detective.”
“Exactly. You’re in charge of investigating serious crimes. I’m in charge of running this department, and that includes hiring and firing. Detective Douglas’s death hit us all hard, no matter what anyone thought of him, but we need the right person to replace him. A person with experience who can hit the ground running. It will make your job easier to have Marcus Adams investigating alongside you.”
“I hear you,” says Madison. “I know we’re a department that will always be small and understaffed, but I would’ve taken the time to help train Shelley. And Steve’s been a sergeant here for years and already has the instincts of a detective. Can’t this Adams guy take Steve’s job instead?”
Mendes shakes her head. “Adams didn’t uproot his family and move down here to end up in the same role he was already in, and for what is probably less money. Besides, I value Sergeant Tanner in his current position, and I think it would be more difficult to replace him than to fill the detective role. In my experience, the position of sergeant is the most important in the whole department, and Steve did a fine job of supporting all of us after Douglas’s death.”
Madison is surprised she’s given it that much thought. “Does Steve know you feel that way?”
“We’ve talked. I’ve explained my reasons for not moving him to the detective role. And because of that, I think he’s happy to stay where he is for a little while longer. With regards to Officer Vickers, well, I’ve recommended she gives some thought as to whether she might be more suited to a sergeant position, in case Steve moves roles. I think she’d be good at it, and once she’s a sergeant, she’d be better placed to eventually become a detective in the future, if that’s what she wants.” Mendes stands. “I’m trying to put in place a solid structure for this department, for both now and the future. I’m looking beyond people’s knee-jerk reactions to unexpected vacancies and offering them a long-term plan for their careers.”
Feeling awkward for trying to tell the chief how to do her job, Madison cautiously asks, “And what about me? You’ve never called me in to discuss my future here.”
Normally serious, Mendes smiles. “You haven’t been back on the payroll for long. I was giving you time to find your feet.” Madison feels like she needs to point out everything she’s achieved since leaving prison and returning to her role, but Mendes is ahead of her. “You’ve done a great job so far. In fact, I have bigger aspirations for you than I do for the others.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
With a deep breath, Mendes elaborates. “I don’t intend to stay in Lost Creek forever. In fact, I give it five years before I move on. I have no links here, and I guess I saw this position as a challenge, and a way to get out of a heavy situation at the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. So maybe one day in the not-too-distant future, my role will need to be filled, and I’d prefer it wasn’t by some old guy who plays golf with the DA.”
Madison’s mouth drops open in surprise. That was the last thing she was expecting to hear. She’s never considered a move upward, as she’s been too focused on getting her job back after the wrongful conviction.
“However, in order to recommend you when the time comes,” adds Mendes, “I’d like to see you work independently of your PI friend from now on.”
“You mean Nate?”
The chief nods.
“But what’s the difference between having his help and having this new guy’s help?”
“Well, for one thing, Detective Adams has never been on death row with his personal life splashed across the internet for all to read about, and for another, Nate Monroe is not a police officer. He has no law enforcement background and he is not employed by this department in any capacity.”
Madison resists the urge to explain how Nate has better instincts than some of the cops she’s worked with over the years.
Mendes continues. “I realize you come as a pair because of your shared experience with wrongful convictions and prison time, but I think you rely too heavily on him sometimes. The media has noticed too. Some people are questioning why he’s allowed at crime scenes, which technically he isn’t.”
Madison doesn’t know what to say. She suspected it would come to this eventually, that she’d have to work independently of Nate, and she does mostly. But they work well together. He’s supportive, and he forces her to consider alternative theories she might not have otherwise thought of. That’s because he doesn’t have a law enforcement background. He’s less rigid in his thinking. He’s also lived with some of the worst killers in the US while locked up in Texas. He’s had a unique glimpse into the minds of those who commit depraved acts of violence.
A knock at the door makes them both turn. Detective Adams opens it. His look is serious. “Are we hunting a killer or not, partner?”
Madison wants to cringe at his enthusiasm, which seems faked for the chief’s benefit, but she knows she has to give him a chance. That doesn’t mean she can’t give him all the crap to deal with: the paperwork, taking witness statements and learning the hard way what life as a cop in a small town is like. That will give her time to focus on the leads.
She exits the office. “Follow me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As it’s Christmas Eve, downtown is already getting busy with last-minute shoppers, and for now, everyone appears to be in good spirits. The fast-food joints already have cars lining up at the drive-throughs, parking spaces outside the stores and strip malls are filling up, and traffic is heavy. Something about the holidays makes people want to spend money. Of course, come January, the majority of them will regret it.
The snow is holding off for now, but it’s still as bitterly cold as it was last night, and Madison had trouble starting her car outside the station. It sparked into life eventually, and now she stands waiting for Detective Adams to pull into the parking lot outside the medical examiner’s building. She told him to follow her, as he didn’t appear to know where he was going. She only realized from seeing him in her rear-view mirror what kind of vehicle he drives. A sleek black Chevrolet Camaro sports car that she doesn’t know how he afforded as a cop, or why he would need it. It made her roll her eyes. He’d clearly bought it in response to some kind of midlife crisis.
She checks her watch: 9.30 a.m., and no sign of Adams. If she had just moved to a new town and secured a job in law enforcement, you better believe she would have familiarized herself with the place before she started her first day at work. Maybe the fact he didn’t is a sign that Adams sees this as a short-term position until he can find something better. Which further suggests he could’ve needed a new job at short notice, perhaps because of his involvement in some kind of scandal at his last PD. She sighs. Or maybe she’s been a cop too long and he just wanted a change of scenery.
Once he finally arrives, she walks over to his car and peers inside. It’s pristine, with no garbage anywhere. “Red leather seats? Wow.” She straightens. “You must have that rare thing I’ve heard about.”
He raises his eyebrows. “What’s that?”
“Disposable income.” He doesn’t laugh, so she turns and leads him into the building. As they wait in the warm reception area for Dr. Scott to appear, Madison brings him up to speed on the Sarah Moss homicide, giving him the facts he wouldn’t have heard by watching the overnight news. “What we need from Lena today is a confirmed cause of death and an idea of the instrument used. We don’t have the murder weapon right now and we need to know what we’re looking for.”
“Got it. Did anyone hear our victim scream?” he asks. “Because I’m guessing she fought back, with her kid on the back seat and all.”
“Our best witness so far is the woman who found her, Julie Reid. She had just returned to her car and saw another woman exiting the parking lot in a red Nissan.” Adams pulls his cell phone out and starts taking notes as she talks. “I need you to trace that vehicle and driver using the CCTV footage from the mall and by speaking to any other shoppers from last night that you can track down.”
He stops typing. “Can’t patrol do all that?”
She looks at him, trying to figure out if he’s going to be one of those detectives who expect other people to do their work for them. “No, they’re busy, and we’re a small team, so we all pull our weight. Besides, you need to get to know the locals. It will do you good to learn where everything is in town and who runs which business.”
He sighs heavily. “You’re not in charge of me, you know. I may be new here, but I won’t be treated like your own personal intern. We’re supposed to work together.”
She scoffs. “Trust me, I don’t have time to be in charge of you, but I do need you to know more about the community you work in. If you weren’t around, I would be chasing the driver of the red Nissan myself, but I can’t do everything. I don’t expect patrol to do my job and they wouldn’t expect me to do theirs. Maybe it’s different where you come from, but you’re not there anymore, so you better get used to how we work down here.”
Lena Scott appears from behind the reception desk. “Hi.”
Adams’s eyes light up as he gives her an appreciative once-over. It’s brief, but Madison knows Lena would have noticed it too. Women always do, especially when you look like Lena. She must get it all the time. A glance at his wedding finger confirms to Madison that he’s married. She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. “Hey, Lena. This is Douglas’s replacement, Marcus Adams. He’s new in town.”
He holds his hand out and Lena shakes it before leading them into the cool morgue, where she slips a white coat over her smart pants and pale blue shirt. Adams looks around the clinical room with interest and Madison wonders whether he spent much time in morgues in his last role as sergeant. You get used to the smell eventually. It’s not half as bad as the aroma of a rotting corpse at a crime scene. But it’s obviously cold in here, and the fluorescent lights make everyone appear tired and pale.
Sarah Moss is lying on a mortuary table with a sheet covering most of her body. Her long brown hair still shows signs of the care she took when styling it yesterday morning, when she was oblivious to how her day would end. Her makeup is all gone, and the blood around her injuries has also been carefully wiped away.
“Okay,” says Lena, slipping on some latex gloves. “So, she has the obvious injuries to her head, as well as some minor injuries to her hands, specifically the fingernails, and also some significant bruising to her knees and shins.” She pulls the sheet down to Sarah’s ankles, exposing the autopsy incisions, now stitched closed, as well as a thin horizontal scar just below the bikini line.
“Is that from a C-section?” asks Madison.
“Right.”
The bruising to her legs looks painful and stands out against her pale skin. Madison leans in to Sarah’s left hand without touching it. “Ouch.” She’s missing a whole fingernail, presumably as a result of grabbing her killer. Her remaining nails are trimmed painfully short. Perhaps she had a bad habit of biting them and cut them short to avoid temptation, or perhaps her killer removed potential DNA evidence.
“She definitely tried to defend herself,” says Lena. “I think the bruising to her legs is consistent with trying to kick her way out of the driver’s side as she was being attacked. They would have made contact with the dashboard, glovebox and perhaps the car door; maybe even the attacker. The missing fingernails—one from each hand—suggest she managed to pull or push the guy at some point, so if we ever identify him and secure the clothing he wore, that could be invaluable for evidence. He could have scratches or marks on his arms, neck or face too, depending on how well wrapped up he was last night.”
It had been freezing, and the assailant would have tried to hide his face from security cameras, so there’s a good chance he was well covered, but Madison turns to Adams. “Something for us to be aware of when questioning witnesses.”
He nods.
With a sigh, Lena says, “Her injuries tell me she fought tooth and nail to survive for her child.”
“She has another boy at home, too,” says Madison.
Lena shakes her head. “Those poor kids.”
“Any sign of sexual assault?” asks Adams.
