Chapter 33
First responders swarmed the parking lot. Red and blue lights flickered. EMTs and the medical examiner were on the scene. Curious onlookers gathered. Paris Delaney and her news crew had arrived.
It was a circus.
I parked the bike, hopped off, and made my way to the scene.
Camera flashes spilled out of the motel room as Dietrich snapped photos.
I hovered in the doorway as Brenda examined the remains.
A frown tugged my face, and sadness pulled my heart.
Another young girl lay naked atop the bed, her hands folded just like Abigail's. A washcloth had been placed over her face. The same crimson marking had been scrawled in blood on the wall by the bed. The bruising around her neck indicated she’d been strangled.
The TV was on, and the volume had been turned low.
A rolling suitcase rested on a stand. The room was a standard layout—two twin beds, a sitting area by the window with a wall unit, and the closet and restroom at the far end.
Teal comforters matched the walls, which were adorned with abstract paintings of seascapes—cheap, mass-produced art.
The Sea Drift was a nice little inn a few blocks from the beach.
"Do we have an ID on the victim?” I asked.
"The ID in her purse says Harper Quinn," Sheriff Daniels said. "Room is registered in the same name. The address listed on her ID says she's from Austin."
I only saw one suitcase. "Is she here alone?”
"It looks that way.” The sheriff frowned.
“What do you think she’s doing in town?”
“Do I look like a mind reader?”
“It might be helpful if you cultivated that skill.”
He sneered at me. “Where’s that numbskull partner of yours?”
“Looking after a high-value target.”
“I’m sure he is. Does this high-value target happen to be young and attractive?”
“That would be an accurate description.“
Daniels just gave me a look. "If Ray Corbin or Coleman or whatever the hell you want to call him is dead, then who the hell killed this girl?”
The killing had the same MO.
"I've got a theory," I said.
"I’m all ears.”
“I'm still working on it,” I muttered.
"Well, let me know when you've got something solid. I'm getting a little tired of finding dead bodies.”
"Who found her?”
"The maid."
She hovered near the room with a somber look on her face. I interviewed her in Spanish, but she didn't have much to add.
"Did you see anyone else with her?"
She shook her head.
"And you didn't see anyone else come or go from the room?”
She shook her head again.
I gave her a card and told her to get in touch if she remembered anything that might be helpful.
I banged on neighboring doors and asked guests if they remembered seeing anyone else around the room.
Nobody recalled anything unusual.
I checked with the office. The clerk told me when Harper checked in, she was alone.
They didn’t have any surveillance footage of the parking lot—however, there was footage of the main entrance.
The clerk invited me behind the counter, pulled up the footage on the computer screen, and scrubbed through the timeline.
We found the point when Harper checked in. From the video, it appeared she was alone.
Harper had been a cute girl. 5’3”, wavy chocolate hair, azure eyes, and a trim figure. The killer definitely had a type. Most do.
The clerk exported the footage and sent me a download link.
I returned to the room and talked to Paris. The camera lens focused in, and she asked me all the standard questions. I didn't have many answers.
"You think this killing is related to Abigail Jordan?”
I hesitated to say anything. "It could be, but we are still processing the scene. If anyone has any information about the assailant or witnessed anyone coming or going from room #109 at the Sea Drift, please contact the Coconut County Sheriff's Department.”
Brenda and her crew wrapped up, bagged the body, and transferred it to a gurney. They wheeled the remains out to the medical examiner's van.
Forensic investigators dusted hard surfaces for prints.
I hopped on the bike, returned to the station, and filled out a report. Afterward, I had Isabella track down Frank’s partner, Larry. Turns out he was still alive and living in Texas. Isabella gave me his number and told me a few interesting things about Dana.
I called Larry.
His wife picked up after a few rings, and I made introductions.
"Larry's not feeling well at the moment. He's currently in home hospice.”
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.
“Is there a good time for him to call you back?”
"I know this is a difficult time. I'm in the middle of a homicide investigation, and I think his expertise could help. It will only take a moment.”
She sighed. "Hang on just a second. I'll see if he feels like talking.”
I hated to be pushy, but given Larry's condition, I wasn't sure if there would be a later.
Larry got on the phone after a few minutes and grumbled, “Hello?"
A wet, raspy cough filled my ear.
I introduced myself and got down to business. "I know this is going back a long time, but when you worked the Bay Strangler case, was there ever another person of interest besides Ray Corbin?”
Larry thought about it for a moment. "Ray Corbin. That name sounds familiar.”
I stifled a groan, then gave him details about the serial murderers, hoping to refresh his memory.
"Okay. Now I've got you,” Larry said. “Ray died in a car crash. That was the end of the case. I don't think there was another person of interest. I mean, no one serious. We had a survivor ID Ray, that was all we needed."
"There must have been somebody else you considered at the time.”
Larry thought about it for a moment. "You know, we did talk to this other fellow. Can't remember his name offhand."
"I didn't see anything in the case file.”
"It wouldn't be in the case file.”
"Why is that?”
“Because it went nowhere, and he had an alibi. A solid one, as I remember. Didn’t think it was worth the trouble of noting.
" Larry took a breath. "What the hell was his name?” he muttered to himself. "Earl. Earl Vernon Maddox. That was the guy’s name. Real scumbag. He had priors. But his story checked out.”
"Are you sure that's his name?”
"I'm positive.”
I took everything Larry said with a grain of salt. I thanked him for his time and wished him well.
My next step was to run background on Earl Vernon Maddox, if such a person actually existed.