Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) (9 page)

“What else did she do to make herself feel young and pretty?” Rick asked as he closed the door.

“She liked to drink and party like any other woman her age. Not a lot, mind you, but once in a while.”

“What about drugs?” Jake had seen straight-laced kids like Elisa do stupid things to get noticed. All thought they’d take a quick walk on the wild side only to discover that the wild side came with fun and also its share of risk and danger. Crossing the line always had a price.

“She smoked a little pot but none of the hard stuff. She understood moderation. She wasn’t like an addict or anything. She just had fun once in a while.”

“You left her in the coffee shop on Friday?” The question came from Rick who stood by a sheer curtained window. He wasn’t looking at her but outside toward the trees and the cars parked on the street.

“Yeah. She was working on a presentation for this week and wanted to finish polishing it.”

Jake moved to the small closet. He opened the door and found a collection of conservative skirts, pants, and button-down shirts. Several pairs of worn brown loafers lined the bottom of the closet.

He pulled on latex gloves. “Mind if I have a look in her closet?”

She bit her top lip and shivered. “No, go ahead.”

He pushed aside the clothes and discovered way in the back a sleek black dress. Judging by the length, it would have hit the average woman several inches above the knee. “This hers?”

“Yes. I have a similar one.”

“I don’t see shoes to match.”

“I borrowed them. They’re still in my closet if you want me to get them.”

“No, that’s okay for now.” He glanced at his near empty notepad. “There was no one that was bothering her? No one that she liked or talked about? No one paying attention in any way.”

“I mean, she mentioned she saw a cute guy at the coffee shop last week. He said hi. She said hi. But that was the end of it as far as I know.”

“What’s the name of the coffee shop again?” Jake asked.

“Blue Note Java. It’s in the West End on Maple Avenue.”

Jake circled Blue Note Java in his notes. Amber had worked at the café five years ago. He tucked the notebook back in his breast pocket and then pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”

She accepted the card, flicking the edge with her index finger. “Sure. Of course.”

He felt for Cheryl. She called in a missing person’s report likely thinking her friend would be found alive and well. “Do you mind if we have a look around while we’re here?”

“No. Take as much time as you need. I’ll be in the living room if you have questions.”

Jake and Rick nodded as she turned and left the room. Both stood in the center of the girl’s room, canvassing everything. Four days ago, the woman lying dead in that cave had been in this room, full of hopes and dreams. She’d been laughing. Maybe crying. Studying. Alive. And now gone.

Rick moved toward the desk and opened the center drawer where he found her checkbook, banking statements, pens, gum, a single earring, and paperclips. All things that belonged in a desk drawer. Lifting the banking statements, he scanned the list of her most recent transactions. “She spends most of her money at the campus bookstore, the grocery, and Blue Note Java. Judging by the list of expenses charged to Blue Note Java, I’d say it was her home away from home.”

“I’ve not been there,” Jake said.

“Neither have I.” Rick closed the drawer and moved to the neatly made bed. He knelt down and pushed up the quilt so that he could see under the bed. He found one storage box and a neatly vacuumed floor. Pulling out the box, he found it layered with a collection of summer clothes. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, a complete search of the room revealed nothing that didn’t fit the profile of a hardworking, very intelligent young woman. Well, nothing except the undergarments.

“Let’s visit Blue Note Java and see if they remember Elisa,” Rick said.

They arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes later, and after circling the block, found a parking spot close to the entrance. The front had a large picture window reminiscent of an old bakery or perhaps a butcher shop. The words
Blue Note Java
were painted in a vibrant blue arched over the window’s center, and below it the image of a coffee cup filled with steaming musical notes dangled. Lining the bottom of the window was a flowerbox filled with red geraniums that had begun to drop their petals.

Inside the shop, long industrial lights cast a warm glow on walls painted a faint yellow and wide-paneled hardwood floor. On the far wall of the shop stood a coffee and pastry bar and in front of it a couple dozen tables that could seat three or four people each. Nearly every table was filled with young students, some huddled close in conversation and others chatting and laughing.

“Place is hopping,” Rick said.

He glanced at the store hours painted on the door. “Sign says they’re open until midnight.”

Jake and Rick pushed open the door, the bells above it jingling. The instant they entered, the scents of coffee and cinnamon swirled around them as the hum of conversation dimmed. Jake and Rick were plainclothes officers, but both looked like cops. Dark suits could have tipped everyone off or it could have been a combination of swagger mixed with assessing gazes always searching for threats or counting exits. The silence confirmed they would now be the official topic of conversation.

Reaching for his badge, Jake moved up to the register where a young girl stood. She had coal black hair, a firebrand tattoo on her right arm, and wore a purple shapeless dress that sparkled a little when she moved. Her shorn nails were painted black and a ring glistened from each of her index fingers and thumbs. She looked up at Jake, mild surprise registering in her hazel eyes as she studied his badge and smiled. “Five-O. What can I do for ya?”

He grinned, liking the girl’s familiarity. “My name is Detective Jake Bishop and this is my partner, Detective Rick Morgan.”

“I’m Cleo.”

Slowly, he tucked the badge back in his breast pocket and then dug out his phone. He pulled up the picture of Elisa that missing persons had sent him. “Cleo, can you do me a favor and tell me if you’ve seen this gal before in Blue Note Java.”

For an instant she simply stared at him, a bit stunned, before she bought her focus to the picture. “Yeah, that’s Elisa Spence. She comes in here all the time. I heard she was missing or something. Her roommate, Cheryl, was here looking for her midday Sunday and then I heard cops came by on Monday.”

“How often would you say Elisa Spence comes in here?” Rick asked.

“Almost every day. But I didn’t work Sunday evening or Monday so I can’t say for sure.” Cleo turned to a large billboard covered with flyers and reached for one featuring Elisa’s smiling face. At the bottom was a phone number he recognized as Nashville Police Missing Person’s Department. “Is she okay?”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“I think it was last Friday. She was in here working on a paper.”

“Was she by herself the entire time?” Rick asked.

“Elisa mostly kept to herself. Sometimes her roommate would stop and study with her. Last week she was putting the finishing touches on a big paper that was due this week.”

“She’s a good student?”

“She is solid but she liked being around the really smart students. This whole place is full of people who are Einstein smart. I couldn’t tell you what most of them are studying. Me, I just went to high school.”

Jake shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, Cleo. I bet you never forget a face.”

She fingered the gold hoop hanging from her right ear. “I’m good with faces. And names. Pays to remember people when you work for tips.”

“So most of your customers are regulars?”

She considered the question. “Yeah. I’d say eighty to ninety percent are regulars. Like I said, I remember almost everyone’s name.”

Someone Elisa knew could have killed her. In fact, most women were killed by an acquaintance. “Anyone pay any close attention to Elisa lately?”

“No. Not really. She kept to herself most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Jake repeated.

“Well, she did talk to this guy about a week ago. I only noticed because he was way out of her league in the looks department.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall, lean, muscular build. He had long dark hair that skimmed his shoulders and a beard. And he wore faded jeans and a dark T-shirt—a bit scruffy. Very sexy. And he had a guitar.”

“So he made an impression on you?”

“I know handsome when I see it. And this dude was handsome. Me and the other girl working the counter that day were a little shocked when he took his cup and sat next to Elisa’s table. He started talking to her and at first she didn’t look up as if she thought he was talking to someone else. When she realized he seemed to be into her, she blushed. It was cute. And a little creepy.”

“Why creepy?”

“Please. A guy like that doesn’t hang out with a girl like Elisa unless he wants something. Money, help with a project. He wanted something, but I’d bet sex was at the bottom of his list.”

An espresso machine hissed as another employee steamed milk and then blended in three shots of black coffee. “Did they leave together?”

“No. But I saw her punching a number into her phone. I’m guessing it was his number. They could have hooked up later somewhere else.” She held up a ringed finger. “Like I said, the scene didn’t fit. Elisa’s more likely to win a science contest than a date with a hot guy.”

“Has this guy been back to the coffee shop?” Jake asked.

“No, haven’t seen him. That seemed to be the only time he came in here while I was working.”

“Right.” Jake closed his notebook and tucked it in his breast pocket.

Rick handed the clerk his card. “Cleo, would you be willing to talk to a forensic artist so we could develop an image of this guy?”

“Yeah, sure. Kinda cool. Very
CSI
.”

“When do you get off work?”

She glanced toward the wall behind her at a large round clock with a coffeepot painted in the center. “About an hour.”

“And you could talk to the artist tonight?”

“Sure.”

Rick texted a message and within seconds received an answer back. “The artist will be here at the end of your shift. Her name is Jenna Morgan.”

“What, is she like your sister?”

“Wife.”

“All in the family.”

Jake shook his head. “You’ve no idea.”

Cleo’s expression sobered. “Are you any closer to finding Elisa?”

Jake allowed a sigh to leak out. “We found her. But the news isn’t good.”

 

G
eorgia and Brad alternated shifts. The scent of death had faded slightly with the removal of Elisa’s body, but strong hints lingered in the cavern like a dark oppressive cloud. Lights from exterior floodlights mingled with several small portable lights placed around the interior chamber.

She bagged the pendant and then she and Brad slowly removed the remaining stones around the smaller entrance to widen the opening, letting more light stream inside and chase away the darkness. When they set aside the last stone, she got her first good look at the second body. It was laid out, arms crossed over the chest. The empty sockets of the skull stared sightlessly up and the jaw slacked open almost as if it were laughing at a dark joke.

She swept her light over the bones to the darkened corners until the beam unexpectedly settled on a second set of remains. This skeleton wasn’t lying flat but had crumbled into a heap as if at the time of death the victim had been sitting. To the right lay a .22 pistol.

She sat back on her haunches, studying the scene. Had this been some kind of murder/suicide? She glanced back at the opening and the rocks she’d piled to the side. Could they have been stacked from inside the chamber from a murder/suicide or had someone killed these two and walled up the inner cave? The BR pendant hung to the right of the opening so it could have been hung before the wall was closed.

She searched around the bones into all the shadowed crevices of the second chamber, confirming this cave was a dead end and there were no other bodies. “What the hell happened here?”

“Did you say something?” Brad asked.

She rubbed her forehead using the back of her hand. “Brad, we’ve got two bodies in here.”

Silence crackled. “Can you tell if they’re male or female?”

Georgia examined the skull in the bone pile in the corner. It appeared large with a wide brow ridge, indicating male. The skull attached to the other body was smaller with a narrow brow. “Looks like we have one of each.”

“Understood.” Resignation weighed down the word. “Let’s get to it. It’s going to be longer than I thought.”

She focused on the female because it was closest to the opening. This one would have to be processed and removed first.

The low ceiling forced her to work sitting cross-legged or on her hands and knees. The skeleton was laid out in the center of the chamber with the hands positioned over the chest like Elisa Spence. The clothes had all but deteriorated from the body except for traces of what looked to have been the snaps or a zipper of denim jeans. The victim had also been wearing tennis shoes with rubber bottoms that remained partially intact.

The bones weren’t green, or new, but were stripped of flesh and dry. She guessed the victim had died at least three to five years ago. Bethany and Mike had vanished five years ago.

The girl the cops and countless volunteers all searched so hard to find might now be finally coming home, and parents trapped in a terrible limbo would have some closure. As heart breaking as it was, at least there would be some closure. “What happened to you, Bethany? How did you end up here for so, so long?”

She spent nearly an hour photographing the chamber and making sketches that she might one day have to refer back to in court.

When Brad moved to the mouth of the front chamber and called her name she was startled at the sound of another living voice. “Are you about ready to move the second body?”

“Yes. I’ve photographed it all, sketched everything I’ve seen and bagged anything that might have been attached to the body at one point. Once the bones are removed, I’ll sweep the area one last time.”

“I’ve got the flat board as you requested.”

“Great.” Since she couldn’t stand and excavate under the bones, she planned to shimmy a body board under the bones and hopefully keep the skeleton intact as much as possible. Once they had the bones on the board, they could slide the board into the body bag. She also hoped this method would preserve the soil under the bones which might very well contain evidence that had settled into the dirt.

Georgia blew out a breath and wiped sweat from her brow while trying to maintain a measured pace that would soon get her out of the cave. For a moment, her chest tightened and her heart kicked up a notch. Closing her eyes, she took a half dozen deep breaths. The lights in the cave had heated the chamber and thickened the air, which left her a little nauseous.

Brad fed in the board and slowly worked the edge under the bones. She shimmied the board back and forth, scooping up a bit of dirt as she wedged the hard edge under the bones. The dirt was packed tight and digging into it took more muscle than she imagined. Cursing under her breath, she kept pushing until the edge eased under the female skeleton’s leg bones, rib cage, and head. Bones shifted and moved slightly as she kept working the board farther and farther under the remains. When she finally reached the other side, sweat rolled down her back and she was breathless.

“You okay?” Brad asked.

Her laugh held no hints of humor. “Never better. How about you?”

“I could think of a few things I’d rather be doing now?”

She grinned. “Just a few?”

“Maybe a couple of dozen.”

She sat back on her heels and wiped her brow again. “I think the body is ready to go. I’ll slide out the board toward you.”

The pendant suggested they had a female victim. The bones confirmed it. “Dr. Heller might prove me wrong, but I’m certain the victim was a woman.”

“More evidence to suggest it’s Bethany.”

“If I had to bet, yeah.”

She didn’t have to remind him to go slowly or to treat the remains carefully. She and Brad had worked together for five years now and she trusted his attention to detail.

When the second body was gone, the chamber felt suddenly empty, even lighter, as if removing the bones had uncorked the bottle and freed the trapped spirits. “Time to go home, Bethany.”

Georgia studied the ground where the bones had lain. She took more pictures before reaching for a small soil sifter. Carefully, she sifted through the dirt, searching for any trace evidence.

Unlike witness statements, evidence was slower to yield its story, but it didn’t lie either. It would easily be weeks, perhaps months, before all the evidence would be processed. But when it did speak, she was determined there’d be no contamination, and its voice would be clear and decisive.

With the first of the pair out of the cave, she turned to the second set of remains and began the process all over again.

It was close to one in the morning when she crawled out of the cave and watched as the bagged remains of both victims were carried up the hill. There were representatives from the medical examiner’s office waiting to carry the body bags out of the woods where they would be loaded into a transport vehicle and taken directly to the medical examiner’s office.

Her knees and back groaned as she straightened. A check of her watch told her she’d been at this more than twelve hours. She unzipped her Tyvek suit and peeled it off. A cool breeze blew across her sweat-soaked shirt plastered to her skin. A shiver chased the warmth out of her body.

“Had enough for one night?” Jake Bishop’s Boston accent cut through the air, snatching her attention away from the darkness. He handed her a water bottle, which she readily accepted.

She cracked open the bottle cap. “What brings you out here on this lovely night?”

He had showered and changed into a clean shirt and suit. The faint scent of his aftershave wafted toward her. No doubt he showered at the station. Homicide cops often went nonstop in the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours of an investigation. Though it took time to sort through all the evidence, they understood that critical witness statements needed to be gathered as quickly as possible.

Under Georgia’s gaze, he slid his fingers down the gig line, the center seam of his shirt, to his belt buckle as if checking its accuracy.

“It’s straight.” She gulped down water. “It’s always straight.”

Dark eyes lightened with laughter. “Jealous?”

“Not really.” She held out her arms. “Not when I’m feeling so fetching today.”

“It works for me.”

The heat under the words warmed her cheeks, tipping her to the defensive. “Why are you here?”

“Just checking in to see how my crime scene is progressing.”

“It’s our crime scene.” She drank from the bottle, savoring the cool liquid.

“Sure.” He handed her a packet of crackers. “I met with Elisa Spence’s parents. They’ve gone by the medical examiner’s office, and according to Dr. Heller, positively identified their daughter.”

She shoved out a breath. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” Both stood in silence for a moment as the weight of the day settled. Finally, Jake cleared his throat. “So what did you find inside?”

As she peeled away the wrapper, she detailed her findings in the catalog of facts. “Follow me to the truck. There are a few things I’d like to show you.”

“Don’t tease me.”

Any other cop who’d made that joke would have earned a laugh. However, Jake’s idea of a joke unsettled her. “So not funny.”

“That the best you got?”

“Afraid so.” Too tired to fire back, she kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other. She only slept an hour or two last night and the nonstop day had drained what little reserves she had mustered this morning.

She opened the back of the evidence truck and rooted through the plastic bags which all held the evidence she had collected from the scene. At this point, she had an unnamed killer who had presented her with a giant puzzle with hundreds of pieces in need of sorting before she could create a cohesive forensic picture for the detectives.

“To begin with, there were two victims in the back chamber.” She detailed her findings and then from her collected evidence, she found a bag with the remnants of candle wax.

Jake held up the bag to the floodlight and studied the dark ring. “What do you make of it? Looks like a wax.”

She rolled her head from side to side wincing as the stiff muscles protested. “Just like I found in the outer chamber. Whoever this guy is, he likes to light a candle while he’s in the cave with his victims.”

“He likes seeing his victims suffer. Can’t tell if he killed them here or placed them here.”

“Yeah, he’s a real peach.” She raised the bottle to her lips, draining the last of it.

“Three out of three bodies have been found,” Jake said. “But we still can’t confirm if we have Bethany and Mike.”

“I think we do, but Dr. Heller will make the final call,” Georgia said.

“And no sign of anything belonging to Mike in the cave?”

“Unless you count the gun next to the body. It appears the serial number has been filed off. Still, ask Marlowe if he’s missing a gun. Might get lucky.”

“I can let Bethany’s family know we found the pendant?”

“Sure. It might mean something to her mother.”

“I’m sure it will.”

She grabbed another water bottle from the truck and twisted off the top. “So what did you find out about the first victim?”

“Nothing jumping out yet. Rick’s going through surveillance data from a local coffee shop now. According to her roommate, it was Elisa Spence’s home away from home.”

“I have a few hangouts like that.” She liked being lost in a crowd. She felt safer and more protected when she was surrounded by the chatter and laughter of strangers, lights, and the sense that she was not alone.

Again, she rubbed her neck, soothing tight muscles and frayed nerves. Like it or not, she had to go to her apartment soon and get some sleep. If she kept going with little or no rest, she’d drop right where she stood.

“You look like you’re dead on your feet,” Jake said.

Georgia refocused her gaze, realizing she’d allowed the veil to drop for a split second. She grinned as she raised the water bottle to her lips. “Just need more water; otherwise, I’m fine. I’ve a few more hours here and then I’ll head home and get a good night’s sleep.”

“When was the last time you really slept?”

“Last night was hit or miss, but I’m used to it.”

“Used to it? What’s that mean?”

She’d heard things about Jake Bishop in the few years they’d worked together. Arrogant. Brash. A charmer. Temper when pushed. Hell of a detective who read people damn well.

Now she was trying to keep her act together as the Amazing Mindreading Kreskin studied her. “Direct those eyes elsewhere. I’m not into any kind of deep Q&A right now. I have to wrap up this scene.”

“You always get a little pissy when you’re tired.”

“Bite me.”

“I’ve hit one of your nerves.” His voice deepened with a smoky tone.

She looked around her to see who was in earshot. The last thing she needed was someone picking up on this conversation and spreading rumors that somehow they were more than associates.

“Go away,” she said. “And lose the grin.”

He did a bad job of smothering his smile. “Anything else I can do?”

“I’ll collect the evidence and process it and you catch yourself a bad guy.”

His jaw tightened and released, drawing her attention to his closely cropped beard. Neat and well-trimmed, she suspected it was soft to the touch. She wondered what it felt like if he were nestled behind her in bed.

Soft. To. The. Touch. God, what the hell was wrong with her? Jake Bishop. Detective Pain-in-the-Ass. She would rather stumble into the beds of a million different guys than his. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need sleep.”

* * *

Amber Ryder rolled to her left side, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy motel bed. She glanced at the clock. Three thirty-three. Halfway to hell, she noted, as she sat up and clicked on a light.