Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Franklin
Saying I got more sleep last night than the previous twenty-four hours wasn’t a very high bar to reach for.
Regardless, with the aid of a hefty dose of caffeine and at least five straight hours of pillow time, I was brighter this morning, although I was far from bushy-tailed.
Three hours after arriving at work found me neck deep in missing persons reports from six different states.
Maryland, New York, Alabama, Florida, Vermont, and Ohio.
What in the hell did these women have in common? How had they all found their way to the same plot of land thousands of miles away from where they’d originated?
My pen bounced off the hard surface of my desk, its rhythm a mystery even to me.
We’d been wrong last night. These women had more in common than where they’d been found and how they’d died.
With the exception of Gladys Clark, all the other victims were in their early- to mid-twenties.
That was the only way Gladys physically differed from the others.
All six were Caucasian, blond, fit, and between five-four to five-seven in height.
All of them were considered low-risk victims. All were from good, solid upbringings, their lifestyles overall mundane.
Granted I hadn’t had time to do any deep dives into their histories, but on the surface everything appeared about as normal as American apple pie.
Years working homicide had made me a little too jaded to trust my initial screening, but I had a nagging suspicion that even when we dug deeper, there would be precious little leading us in a direction that even remotely mimicked a straight line.
“That bad?”
I glanced up, my pen halting its ceaseless motion when Officer Ebony Becks’s voice broke through my brooding. “Depends on your definition,” I answered.
“Well, by the constipated look on your face, I’d say it’s not great. Care to share?” Becks didn’t wait for an answer. She pulled up a chair and plunked down, rolling closer to my desk and resting her elbows on the edge, an eager expression lighting her eyes.
“Something I don’t know?”
Becks grinned. “I just got done speaking with Captain Cicely. Looks like my computer skills are all yours for the foreseeable future.” Becks wiggled her fingers.
Instead of playing air guitar, she played air keyboard.
“Come on, O’Hare. Don’t you know that sharing is caring?
” Becks’s grin lit up her face, her teeth a brilliant white against her dark skin.
My bark of laughter surprised me more than Becks. “In that case, expect to get a shit ton of caring coming your way.”
“Bring it on.” Becks’s grin eased into something more serious. “The captain filled me in on some of it. From what I understand, you’ve got six bodies, each one from a different state.”
I nodded while gathering the paper file I’d thus far accumulated. “I’ve been going through those individual states’ missing persons reports.”
Becks’s eyebrows scrunched. “How come? I thought Boone gave us the identities.”
“He did. What he couldn’t do was tell us when the individuals were murdered.
” I thought over those words and corrected them.
“The women who died couldn’t tell us exactly when they were murdered.
I’m not sure if they just can’t remember or if it has something to do with the trauma of dying.
The only one that gave us a decent timeline was Clarissa Peyton.
She was just a few days shy of finishing her doctorate.
The problem is that type of degree doesn’t follow an exact timeline. ”
Becks nodded with understanding. “It’s not like graduating from undergrad. Those dates are pretty set. It might depend on the semester, but it would be easier to track.”
“Exactly. I also wanted to see who reported them missing and if those states have anyone else meeting our profile that is still missing.”
Eyebrows shooting skyward, Becks asked, “Any luck with that?”
I cringed. “A little too much luck.” I rubbed the back of my head and neck. Going through missing persons was trawling through a river of misery and without more to go on, I had no idea if any of the missing women who matched the profile would show up on my doorstep anytime soon.
Thumbing through the list of names scribbled across the front of the manila file folder holding together the loose pieces of this burgeoning case, Becks asked, “Have you done the notifications yet?”
I swallowed hard, my earlier breakfast sitting like a leaden weight.
“No.” When Becks glanced up, her eyes wide and questioning, I answered, “I’ll do it soon.
Or at least I’ll notify those investigating their deaths.
Typically, local law enforcement does the notifications.
I know if it were my case, I’d want to be the one to speak with the deceased’s loved ones.
” Want wasn’t really the right word. Nobody wanted to give a death notification to a grieving family.
However, it was a responsibility and act of respect.
While no one wanted to find out their loved one had been the victim of murder, discovering the truth was normally the first step in a long and often arduous healing process.
Not everyone completed that journey and each individual’s path was different.
My job was to give them as many answers as possible.
At the end of the day, that’s all I could truly do.
“I don’t envy you the next few hours, O’Hare.”
Leaning back into my chair, my shoulders slumped as I stared at my phone. “I’d like to give the local police more information.” Maybe that’s why I was truly holding off.
Becks reached out, the tips of her fingers lightly resting against my forearm. “You’re going to give them more than they had when they went to bed last night. Don’t minimize what you do know, O’Hare.”
Becks was right, and I told her so. “That’s true.”
Picking up the manila folder, Becks tapped it on the table, settling the papers inside and tucking them safely away. “You let me do the computer legwork. That’s what I’m good at.”
“That’s what you’re a whiz at,” I corrected.
Becks dramatically fanned her face. “You’re such a flirt, O’Hare, complimenting me like that. What would your fiancé say?” Becks teased, a smirk twisting her lips.
“That every word is true,” I teased back.
Becks let loose a deep belly laugh. “Then I’d have two of you whispering sweet digital nothings into my ears.
Is it getting warm in here, or is it just me?
” Becks winked before standing. Leaning over my desk, Becks’s mischievous grin softened.
“Seriously, O’Hare. I’ve got this. By the time I’m done, you’ll know every dirty little secret hiding out in these women’s lives, along with anyone they were even remotely associated with. ”
“Four of our murdered women gave a name regarding who they thought killed them. Those names are in there too,” I said, pointing at the file.
“Four different names?” Becks asked with a frown. “That’s…”
“Unusual,” I supplied.
“I suppose that’s one word for it. I can come up with a few more that aren’t worth speaking in polite company.”
It was my turn to grin. “I can’t say that I fit into that category, but I appreciate your restraint.”
Becks tapped the file on the desk before pulling away. “I’ll let you know what I find out. Come find me later if you need someone to talk to after you finish all your phone calls.”
It was a kind offer, one I may or may not take advantage of.
Most likely I’d crave Boone’s understanding touch.
I’d always crave that. Boone was my go-to person.
He was the first one I wanted to speak with when something good happened.
Unfortunately, that worked in the opposite route as well.
Sometimes I quelled that desire, unwilling to burden the man I loved with the emotional weight sitting on my chest. Time would tell if today would be one of those days or not.
With a heavy sigh, I stretched out my fingers and picked up my phone. There was one piece of paper I hadn’t given Becks. It was a list of our victim’s names, along with the state they were from and a phone number for the precinct who’d taken the missing person’s report.
Pushing aside my emotions, I dialed a Maryland area code.
“You look a little worse for wear.” Boone greeted me at the door, much as he often did. I wasn’t offended by his less than stellar opinion on my current appearance. The truth was, I felt more than a little worse for wear. “Long day?”
I slipped through the door, the screen quietly closing behind me. I’d oiled the shit out of the hinges, and it was now a silent tap instead of a harpy’s screech. Shit, I’d probably just insulted a harpy or two.
“You could say that,” I answered, tossing my jacket on a nearby hook and loosening my tie. I envied Boone’s casual lounge pants, worn t-shirt, and socked feet. Boone smelled freshly showered and appeared extra comfy. I couldn’t wait to strip down and cuddle next to him.
Boone’s arms slipped around my neck. He had to go up on tiptoes to do it. I appreciated the effort and leaned down, meeting him halfway. No longer chapped by winter’s cooler weather, Boone’s lips were soft and welcoming.
“God, I missed you,” I said, reluctantly pulling away and resting our foreheads together.
“Missed you too.” Boone inhaled, as if he’d also missed my scent.
Releasing his hold around my neck, Boone’s hands slid down my shoulders, resting on my biceps.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for dinner.
I know it’s late. Do you want to order something in?
We’ve got fixings for turkey sandwiches, but that’s about it. ”
“A turkey sandwich sounds great.” My stomach growled in agreement, and Boone chuckled.
“I’ll start pulling things out of the fridge.”
I followed Boone like an imprinted duckling. Sometimes I wondered how I’d managed without having his backside to track. “You don’t have to do that. I can—”
“I want to. Now be a good boy and sit down while I bring things to the table.” Boone blew me an air kiss as he went to the fridge, purposefully sliding across the wooden floor in his stocking feet.
“One day you’re going to fall on your ass doing that.” It was half tease and half worry.
“Good thing I have an unlimited supply of Pops’s pain charms,” Boone said in a singsong voice as if my concerns were foolish.
I only managed a grunt as I sat down. I’d been sitting on my ass most of the day, and yet sitting on that kitchen chair still felt good. Before I knew it, bread, turkey cold cuts, cheese, sliced tomato, and lettuce found their way to the table, along with a glass of lemonade.
“You want a beer instead?” Boone asked.
“Lemonade’s fine.” It was more than fine. “I may get a beer later. If I drink one now, I’ll be out like a light, and I need to shower today’s filth off me before I pass out.”
Pulling out a chair beside me, Boone sat on the edge—close but not quite touching. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’d rather hear about your day. At least right now. Maybe later when I get that beer.”
Boone blew out a breath that sounded more like a raspberry. “Not much to say on my end. Honestly, today was mostly a bust. Sheriff Andrews called.”
I swallowed a bite of sandwich before I asked, “Did you get the all-clear?”
“Hardly.” Boone rolled his eyes. “Opal’s murderous husband is really throwing the weight of the judicial system into things.”
“Do we know for certain he murdered her?” I thought that’s what they wanted Boone for.
Boone waved me off. “Not officially. But something stinks, and it’s not poor Opal’s corpse.”
I nearly choked on my sandwich. “So why did Sheriff Andrews call?”
Boone shrugged. “Honestly, I think it was a courtesy call, just to keep me updated. I think she was also a little afraid that I’d lose interest or something if this drags out longer.
I informed her that nothing could be further from the truth and that when she gets the legal clearance, I’ll be there.
” Boone cringed. “At least I hope I’ll be there.
I don’t not want to be there. It’s just…
” He waved a hand in the air, pointing to shadowed corners.
My eyes tracked to those darkened areas.
It was so damn hard, not knowing if Huxley was there, looming and listening in.
The very idea gave me the creeps and pissed me off in equal measure.
“You’ll be there,” I promised. It was probably foolish to make such a claim. Foolish or not, I needed Boone to believe it. I needed me to believe it too.
Boone’s answering grin was weaker than I would have liked.
With a barely there nod, Boone sighed and changed the subject.
“I went through some new requests that have come through. I turned most of them down, but I did reach out to a couple of others. I need some more information, but those two cases look promising.”
This was a touchy subject. Not that I didn’t want Boone working—I just didn’t like the idea of him going out alone. When I stopped chewing my food, Boone’s fingers slid into my free hand and gave a squeeze. “Nothing’s decided, and we’ll discuss it first. We’ll time it so I’m not going by myself.”
I raised Boone’s hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “I’m sorry for being such a worrywart.”
“I think if anyone’s earned that right, it’s you.” Boone cocked his head to the side, a lazy grin tilting one side of his lips. “I hate that you need to worry, but I’m glad you do. Does that sound selfish? You know I don’t mean it that way. I just—”
“It doesn’t sound selfish. I like that you worry about me too.” Releasing Boone’s hand, I stretched my arms above my head, shoulders and back cracking. “Christ, I feel old.”
“You haven’t qualified for AARP yet. Come on.” Boone stood. “Let’s get you washed and into some comfier clothes…or maybe no clothes at all.” Boone waggled his eyebrows.
My dick made the meekest of efforts, and I sighed as I stared down at my crotch. “I think even that part of me is too tired for what you’re proposing.”
“I’m not proposing anything beyond naked snuggling beneath the sheets.”
Any remaining tension drained from my body. “That sounds like a dream.”
“Only I’m the real thing.” Boone winked before picking up the perishables from the table and placing them back in the fridge. “Go get in the shower. I’ll grab you a beer before heading to bed.”
I had no idea how I’d gotten so lucky in life and love. All I knew was that I’d do my damndest to keep it. I just had no idea if my best would be good enough. That was the thought that kept me from sleep.