CHAPTER FOUR
Two and a half hours in the car Ella was all but ready to kick the door open before Luca hit the brakes outside Eleanor Calloway's house.
Chesapeake's Western Branch neighborhood sat halfway between the Elizabeth River and the Great Dismal Swamp. Maple Grove Road was lined with modest, century-old houses, each one trying to outdo its neighbors with gingerbread trim and widow's walks. Rain pummeled Chesapeake with December fury as they idled up to the curb where fluttering crime scene tape was draped between porch columbs. Eleanor Calloway’s house was bang in the middle of the row. Unmissable given the police cruiser outside.
‘Welcome to the dollhouse,’ Luca said.
Ella studied the house's placement. Hedged in tight by neighbors on both sides. No easy escape routes. No cover for surveillance. Their unsub hadn't just grabbed the first isolated house he found - he'd picked this target specifically. An opportunistic killer would pick a house at the end of the row.
‘Another tick in the purposely-targeted column. He didn’t choose this house out of convenience, that’s for sure.’
‘Come on. Let’s get inside before any more neighbors start gawping.’
Ella looked across the street. A few neighbors watched from their porches with that specific blend of fear and fascination that murder always drew.
‘Vultures with mortgages.’
‘Nothing spices up suburban life like death next door. You ever been to Chesapeake before?’
‘No. You?’
'Once. I played hockey here years ago. I thought you were a Virginia girl.'
‘Born and bred. I just never made it here. Today’s a day to cover new territory.’
Ella exited the car and breathed in the Chesapeake air. It tasted like old snow, new rain and a hint of factory smog. It was a million miles from the Virginia she knew. As she and Luca made their way toward the victim’s house, a heavyset officer detached himself from the cruiser.
‘FBI?’ he called.
'That's us.' Ella waited for him to catch up, then extended her hand. 'I'm Agent Dark, this is Agent Hawkins. Thanks for meeting us.'
‘Don’t mention it. I’m Detective Malcolm Reeves. The poor sucker in charge of this case.’
Detective Reeves looked like a man who'd seen too much but hadn't lived long enough to process any of it. Heavy bags drooped under bloodshot eyes and stress lines mapped his forehead like contours on a battlefield. His badge hung crooked on his shirt, and his tie was dotted with what might have been this morning's breakfast.
‘Hell of a thing,’ he said, running thick fingers through thinning gray hair. ‘We get our share of murders in Western Branch, especially with the naval base and drug trade, but nothing like this.’
‘Can you talk us through everything?’
‘Got a call around nine this morning from Chesapeake Public Library. Eleanor Calloway's a reference librarian there, never missed a day in twelve years, apparently. Said it wasn’t like Eleanor to go no-contact. They tried calling her but no answer, so they called us.’
Rain dripped from the porch roof in steady streams. Ella noticed more faces appearing in neighboring windows.
‘One of my guys arrived and found the front door unlocked,’ Reeves continued. ‘He went in for a welfare check and... well, you've seen the photos.’
‘Front door,’ Ella repeated. ‘Anything else unlocked?’
Reeves checked his notepad. ‘Nope. All locked.’
‘So the killer exited via the front door. Need to see if any of the neighbors have doorbell cams. What do we know about the victim?’
'Just what her records show. 42 years old, worked at the library for twelve years. No kids. Husband died five years ago of lung complications. I haven't had a chance to dig any deeper.'
‘Understood. What did your officer find when he got here?’
‘He called out for Eleanor but got no response. So he checked every room, and then he found Eleanor’s… trophy room or whatever the hell that thing is. Her body was in there.’
Luca asked, ‘When was this?’
‘About nine-thirty.’
Ella checked her watch. Nearly five hours ago. ‘Who’s been on the scene? Uniforms, CSI?’
‘Just me and two of my guys. No forensics or coroners yet. CSI are dealing with a pile-up on the I-64. They won’t be here for another hour yet.’
‘So the body's still in there?’ Ella couldn't keep the shock from her voice. Five hours was an eternity in crime scene terms. Evidence degrading, traces fading, precious time slipping away.
‘Yeah. My guys secured the scene, documented everything. But we're waiting on the full forensics team.’
‘Jesus. We need to get in there. Now.’
‘Follow me. But prepare yourselves. This isn’t pretty.’