Chapter Six
Six
The train blew through nightly with a piercing horn that rattled windows and set the coyotes howling throughout the canyon.
The humans slept through it. Or at least, the locals did.
Tourists who stayed near the railroad tracks were likely to bolt upright in bed and curse the noise.
Leanne was immune to it, and even after years away, the sound of more than six thousand tons of metal and freight roaring through town at two thirty a.m. didn’t cost her a wink of sleep.
With the exception of last night.
Leanne leaned against the door of her unmarked police unit, swigging coffee as she stared at the train tracks.
The crime scene had been cleared yesterday, but she could still see the tire marks from the half dozen emergency vehicles that had converged on the culvert.
And then there were the countless other tracks that had come later, as word spread about the body and people gave in to the morbid impulse to come see for themselves.
“Any update on those printouts?” Leanne asked Izzy over the phone.
“I left everything on your desk.”
“Everything?”
“Yep. I left a batch for the chief, too, but he wasn’t in yet. Where are you?”
Leanne checked her watch. “On my way to the autopsy.”
Izzy made a low grunt, which Leanne took to mean she didn’t want to trade places.
“Good luck. I hope you get what you need,” Izzy said.
“Thanks. And for the printouts, too. Makes life easier.”
“No problem. Let me know if there’s anything more I can do.”
Leanne ended the call and trekked over to the train tracks.
Yesterday, the tire marks had made her jump to the conclusion that the victim had been driven out here and either killed on the spot or killed beforehand and dumped near the culvert.
But last night, for the first time since Leanne could remember, she’d been jarred awake by the train.
She’d lain there in bed, picturing the crime scene as her brain sparked with a new possibility.
The victim could have been thrown from the train.
In the middle of the night, no witnesses.
On the outskirts of town, where no one would see or hear or smell, except for the scavengers.
Clearly, the body had been mutilated. Maybe it had been dragged, too, and ended up in that culvert because of animal activity.
From the killer’s perspective, it wasn’t a bad plan.
If, as everyone seemed to assume, the victim had been a migrant, maybe she’d been hitching a ride on that train when someone killed her, and maybe that person threw her off under cover of darkness, leaving the body, and any evidence that was on it, to decompose in the desert.
The idea of this young woman being heaved from a train barreling through town was no less horrible than the victim being murdered in town and then dumped by the tracks.
It was horrible no matter what. Disturbing, as Izzy had said.
But the two scenarios were very different in terms of how Leanne needed to investigate.
Gravel crunched behind her, and she turned around to see a familiar Volkswagen rolling to a stop on the shoulder. Patty Paulson got out. Her curly hair was up again, and today she wore a blue Desert Angels T-shirt.
Leanne returned to her car as Patty walked over and peeled off her sunglasses.
“It’s good to see you back,” Patty said.
“I’m just going over some things.”
“No, I mean back home. I figured you were gone for good once Dallas got its claws in you.”
There was an edge in her voice. Plenty of locals resented that Leanne had moved to a big city, and they weren’t shy about letting her know it.
Patty looked out at the culvert where she’d found the body while leaving jugs at a water station.
“She’s not the first.” Patty nodded at the tracks. “There have been others.”
“Others who?”
“Who knows? Girls raped and beaten to death, left out here to rot. They don’t wear name tags.”
“How do you know?”
“You hear things.” Patty leveled a look at her. “Do your job, Leanne. Don’t let him intimidate you.”
A chill swept over her. She was talking about the chief.
“He’s a bully,” Patty said. “Always has been.”
Leanne didn’t disagree. But she wasn’t about to bad-mouth her boss to someone. Especially not his sister-in-law, who considered it her Christian duty to help stave off death and dehydration in the desert.
The chief saw his duty very differently.
Patty slid on her sunglasses and tromped back to her car. A knot formed in Leanne’s stomach as she watched her drive away. She took one last look at the culvert before sliding behind the wheel and pulling onto the highway.
She’s not the first.
Leanne knew that. People died out here all the time.
But this time was different. Leanne had felt it since she first saw that crime scene—something called to her about it.
She hadn’t pinpointed it yet, but she would.
Despite whatever Patty thought, Leanne wasn’t intimidated by the chief.
But she wasn’t careless, either, and she had to be strategic.
Underneath McBride’s good-old-boy persona, he was smart.
And he knew how to work the system to get things done, so she needed him as an ally.
Leanne ran through what she had and didn’t have as she drove to Chisos.
One, still no missing person report that matched the victim, not in Chisos County or any others nearby.
Two, no clear tattoos or identifying marks, but Leanne was hoping the ME would find something at the autopsy.
Three, the question of sexual assault. The ME could probably make a preliminary determination during the exam and maybe even recover a DNA sample.
By the time Leanne reached Chisos, she had her questions ready and prioritized.
She swung into the county justice complex and found an empty space at the back of the lot.
They were busy, even for a Monday, and Leanne waited behind two people at the reception desk before signing in and collecting a visitor’s badge.
“Third door on the right,” the receptionist said with a smile. She was a new hire and had no idea who anyone was. “Then it’s down the hall and around to the left.”
“Thanks,” Leanne said, clipping the badge to her jacket.
As opposed to yesterday, Leanne was in her usual cold-weather detective uniform—a button-down shirt, jeans, and a black leather jacket that concealed her holster.
She walked down the long white corridor, which smelled of industrial cleaning solution.
The third door on the right swung open as she reached it.
“Hey.” Leanne pulled back, startled. “What are you doing here?”
Mark Rodriguez stepped into the hallway. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
His black eyebrows tipped up. “Well, yeah. I mean, the chief said—”
“McBride sent you?” Her gaze sharpened. “Why? I told him I’d cover it.”
The junior detective flushed, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, he told me to be here, so I figured you were busy.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, I didn’t mind.”
Leanne blinked at him. “You didn’t mind? You mean, it’s already happened?”
“Uh…yeah. He started at nine.” Rodriguez looked down at his watch. “It took about three hours.”
“Son of a bitch.” Leanne turned away, pulling her phone from her pocket.
“Is there something—”
“Forget it,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll take it up with the chief.”
She stalked over to the water fountain alcove. She waited through four rings, but the call went to voicemail. She tried the main line.
“Madrone Police Department. How may—”
“Nadine, it’s Leanne. Is the chief in?”
“No, you just missed him. He said he’d be out most of the afternoon.”
She bit back a curse.
“You want to leave a message?”
“No. Thanks. I’ll catch up with him later.”
Leanne hung up and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. Then she turned back toward the hallway where Rodriguez was still standing.
“I didn’t mean to step on toes,” he said. “But the chief said you were busy, so—”
“Thank you. Not your fault. Is Korbin still back there?”
“I don’t know.”
Leanne strode past him and pushed through the door. She passed several offices, glancing in windows as she went. As she reached the door to the ME’s office, she spied a short man in blue scrubs rounding the corner.
“Doctor?” She jogged after him. He wore a red do-rag on his otherwise bald head, and she knew it was him. “Dr. Korbin?”
He turned around, his hand on the door to the men’s room.
“Sorry to bother you, but—”
“Something you need, Detective?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the door. “But it can wait.”
“What is it?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m the lead investigator on the Jane Doe case. The victim you just examined? I was told the autopsy was scheduled for noon.”
“I moved it.” He folded his arms over his chest. “At the request of your department.”
“I wasn’t informed. I had planned to be there.”
A toilet flushed, and she glanced around, wishing they weren’t having this conversation outside the bathroom.
“I really need—”
The door opened, interrupting her plea. Leanne stepped out of the way as a sheriff’s deputy squeezed between them.
“Come with me,” Korbin said.
She followed the pathologist down the hall and through a set of double glass doors into a waiting area furnished with gray plastic chairs. He led her into a narrow conference room with a table in the center.
“Have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
Leanne sat down as he left the room. She checked her phone to see if she’d missed a call from McBride or anyone else. Nothing. Her last text was an exchange with Izzy about the crime scene photographs.
Leanne pictured Izzy’s blanched face when she’d bumped into her in the bathroom yesterday.
She hoped Izzy wasn’t second-guessing her career choice.
Besides Nadine at reception, Leanne and Izzy were the only women at MPD.
And Leanne was the sole woman with a badge, which meant that she was constantly on a mission to prove herself.