Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-Three
Bip slid two packets of sugar across the counter.
“I heard y’all got another one last night,” he said.
“Not us this time.”
“No?”
“No.” Leanne stacked the packets on the lid of her coffee.
“But I heard—”
“Say hi to Mel for me, okay?”
“Will do.”
Leanne left the convenience store and drove to the police station, surveying the sidewalks crowded with weekend visitors.
The coffee shop on Main was packed, and a line was already forming at the taco truck, where tourists were paying eight dollars for tacos that used to cost two bucks.
Leanne reached the police station and pulled around to the back.
McBride’s Suburban was parked near the door, but no sign of anyone else yet.
Leanne had hoped to beat everyone in today, and it looked as though she had.
She tapped in her access code and let herself inside. Booking was empty, which was another stroke of luck. She didn’t want her morning getting sidetracked with a bunch of catch-up work from the overnight shift.
She dropped off her coffee at her desk and went straight for the chief’s office.
The door stood ajar. McBride was seated in front of his computer with a sausage biscuit at his elbow.
He wore a flannel shirt and baseball cap, and Leanne would bet money he planned to be on his brother-in-law’s fishing boat by lunchtime.
“Morning.”
He turned to look at her. “Morning. I thought Josh was on call today.”
“He is. You have a minute?”
“Sure.”
She took the empty chair as he closed out of an email. Then he swiveled to face her, and his chair squeaked as he leaned back.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“You heard about Gold Springs Trail.”
He nodded.
“I was out there last night.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Izzy called me.”
“Yeah, I heard she found the body.” He shook his head. “Bad break.”
“Yes.”
“She’s tough, though.”
Leanne cleared her throat. “So, I was talking to Duncan Harper.”
“He the lead?”‘
“Travis Malcom is.”
The chief nodded. “He’s good.”
“Duncan was telling me the MO looks similar to our Jane Doe.”
“Similar how?”
“Well, the obvious. Both early twenties female victims, badly beaten, probable sexual assault—”
“We don’t know that,” he said. “No rape kit results on our Jane Doe yet.”
“Right. Well, possible sexual assault, then. Anyway, the other big thing is location. That trailhead is right off Highway 67, not far from where a human jawbone was discovered several years back.”
His eyes turned wary. “What are you asking me?”
“I was thinking we should be teaming up on this. Since they’re likely related.”
He was already shaking his head.
“We could share leads and resources. We could—”
“No way. Not happening.”
She pulled back, stung. “Why not?”
“You’re suggesting a task force, right? That’s what you’re saying? The answer is no.”
“Sir.” She glanced at her lap, trying to tamp down her emotions. “If you compare the two cases, you’ll see—”
“You’re borrowing trouble again, Everhart. Gold Springs Trail is not our jurisdiction. Malcom and his guys can handle it.”
She took a deep breath. “What about the other cases? We’re up to five now.”
“Five? How do you figure?”
“The cold cases from Dr. Sayers, all from this region. Then our recent Jane Doe. And now this new homicide.” That wasn’t even counting the stray femur and jawbone, only the cases where the victims’ sex had been determined.
“I was going through the case files, and it’s clear there’s a pattern here.
It would make sense to bring in a canine team at this point. ”
“A dog team? Why?”
She just looked at him. “Well…to see what else we’ve missed. In the case of the jawbone, there’s bound to be more remains to be found out there. And again, that bone was discovered near the same stretch of highway as these others.”
McBride tipped his head back and sighed. Then he leaned forward on his elbows.
“Everhart, I put you in charge of the Jane Doe homicide a week ago now. Do you have an ID?”
“Not yet.”
“Any possible MP files?”
“No.”
“Any leads whatsoever on the vic’s identity?”
“No.”
“And you’re not going to find any, either. You want to know why?”
She just looked at him.
“Because nobody’s looking. No one cares. You get what I’m saying?”
“No. Respectfully, sir, I’m not seeing your point here. We don’t have an ID yet because the victim’s prints aren’t in the system, and we haven’t found a corresponding missing person report—”
“Which we won’t. It’s like I told you before. These people live and die under the radar. There’s no report because there’s no one to file a report. And I’m not wasting a bunch of valuable taxpayer resources running down bones of every illegal who crosses that desert.”
“It’s not just the location of the bodies that makes me think the cases are connected,” she went on, determined to break through.
“There are other similarities. There’s the age of the victims. The sex.
And the victims were strangled and severely beaten postmortem.
Those injuries were all on the right side of the victim’s face, which suggests a left-handed killer. ”
Interest flared in his eyes, and she kept going.
“Also, in three of the cases, including our Jane Doe, there was duct tape found near the body or on the body itself. And also—”
“Stop.” He held up a hand. “I’ve heard enough of this.”
A hot lump lodged in her throat. She could see by the gleam in his eyes that he was relishing this argument. He liked cutting her off at the knees, putting her in her place, reminding her that she was beneath him in the hierarchy.
Leanne had spent last night tossing and turning in bed, coming up with all the right arguments to persuade him to let her join forces with the sheriff’s office to start investigating her Jane Doe case as what it was: part of a pattern.
But he wasn’t even going to hear her out.
He’d already made up his mind about everything.
She felt a sense of déjà vu. She’d experienced this same dynamic with her hardheaded brother, too, and she knew how this would go. The more she pushed him, the more he’d dig in and resist her. She had to come up with another way.
She took a deep breath. “If you don’t want to bring in a cadaver dog—”
“That’s not happening.”
“Then how about—”
“I’ll tell you what, though,” he said. “The other day you mentioned a tire tread. You’ve still got that plaster cast?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll submit it and see what comes back.” He checked his watch. “Send it to the lab in El Paso, see if they can ID it. Maybe we’ll get a lead on a vehicle.”
“Sending it to Austin would probably be faster—”
“El Paso. They know us over there.”
He turned to his computer, and that was it. She was being dismissed.
Leanne stood up, and he was already back to his emails, clearly in a hurry to get out of here and enjoy his Saturday.
Leanne stalked into the break room, where she could be alone. She stood by the watercooler, staring at her feet and counting to ten.
She grabbed a paper cone and filled it with water. She drank it down, cooling her throat. She drank another, and another. Then she crunched up the cone and threw it at the trash can.
“That went well.”
She turned around. Josh leaned against the doorframe.
“Couldn’t help but overhear.” He stepped into the room. “Sounds like he didn’t buy it. Nice pitch, though.”
Frustration festered inside her, but she pretended not to care.
“Aw, come on,” he said. “Shake it off.”
She filled another cone with water and sipped it.
“You get to send your plaster cast in, right? That’s progress.”
She glared at him. “Now it’s my plaster cast? Because I’m the only one who gives a crap about this case, right? Who cares about some murdered girl in the desert?”
Josh sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that I know you’ve been wanting to send in that evidence. Maybe we’ll get a lead out of it.”
She dropped the cone in the trash. “He’s throwing me a bone, hoping I’ll shut up, Coop. Everyone knows El Paso is backed up as hell with drug testing. If he really gave a damn, he’d send it to Austin.”
Josh stepped closer and frowned down at her. “Do you ever think about how you’re making it too hard on yourself?”
“What, by doing my job? Is it supposed to be easy?”
Josh shook his head. “Forget it.”
“No. Tell me what you meant.”
He sighed again. “Look, Leanne, I know you don’t like people telling you what to do.”
“Oh, and you do?”
“No, I do not,” he said. “But I’ve been here six years, which is four more than you, and I’ve learned a few things.
” He gazed down at her with a look that could only be described as big-brotherly.
“I worked with your dad, and I have the utmost respect for him, so would you mind if I give you a little friendly advice?”
She wished she had a dollar for every man she’d dealt with who wanted to give her a little friendly advice.
She took a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”
He glanced at the door behind her, then eased closer and lowered his voice. “You keep butting heads with him, you’re gonna derail your career. Permanently.”
“Him” obviously meaning the chief.
“That attitude you’ve got may seem like it’s not coming through, but it is,” he continued. “He’s not stupid.”
She swallowed a retort.
“Don’t make everything so combative, okay? Yeah, he’s throwing you a bone. So fetch it and run with it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you’re the lead here. So, lead your case how you want and quit trying to win every argument.”
She just looked at him. His expression was calm and reasonable, while she was struggling to keep her emotions from boiling over.
Maybe he had a point.
“That’s my advice, take it or leave it.” He stepped back. “If your dad was here, he’d tell you the same.”