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They got out of the car and walked to Kirkland Hall, the college’s administration building. Sitting on a stone bench in front of the edifice was a man in his early forties. He had a thick mustache, matching light blond hair, and a shiny badge pinned to the front of his pristine tan uniform. Taylor groaned aloud. The man smiled and gave them a little wave. He didn’t get up, just sat with his legs spread wide in front of him, a small manila folder sitting quietly next to him.
Taylor tried for politeness. “Chief Graber. How are you this fine morning?”
“Not well, not well at all. I assume you’re here because one of my students is dead, and you’ve come to give your condolences. To apologize that no one from Metro bothered to contact me when you discovered the Parthenon girl was a Vandy student. To ask for any and all cooperation my police force can give to your investigation. That about sum it up?”
Taylor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Graber wasn’t going to make this easy. She softened her tone.
“Chief... Charles. You know that the past twenty-four hours have been a madhouse. We’ve only known that Shelby Kincaid was a Vandy student since—”
“Since you ID’d her body, yesterday. For God’s sake, Taylor, did you think I wasn’t going to find out?” Graber jumped up and started to pace the portico. He had a strange gait. One leg seemed to snap in front of him as he walked. Taylor saw Marcus staring and decided it was the perfect moment to introduce him.
“Marcus Wade, I’d like you to meet Charles Graber, chief of the Vanderbilt Campus Police. And a royal pain in my ass.”
“I guess you two already know each other?” Marcus asked.
“Since ninth grade. She dated my little brother at Father Ryan. Broke his heart, too.”
Graber’s tone wasn’t lost on the young detective, and Taylor went crimson under Marcus’s grin.
“Charles, please. Now isn’t the time. We need to focus on Shelby Kincaid. We have a court order for her records. I figured the school’s administration wasn’t going to be terribly cooperative, so we’ve preempted them.”
Graber picked up the manila folder. “And I figured you’d be thorough enough not to show up empty-handed. Here, I’ll trade you.” He handed her the folder. Taylor nodded sharply at Marcus, who pulled out the legal documents from his inside coat pocket. He handed them to Graber, who didn’t even glance at the paperwork.
“I can save you some time, Taylor. I know my way around this campus better than you do. I’m happy to help.”
Taylor caught the note in his voice, and couldn’t help but feel for the man. His campus police were much more than glorified security guards. They had all the powers of a metro police force, only with a smaller area to govern. But he had no jurisdiction over this particular crime. Taylor knew he didn’t want the glory. He was genuinely sorry that one of the school’s students had been murdered. But it was her case, and she wanted to run it her way. And she owed him nothing but civility. He still held a grudge, about his brother, and other things, and she tired quickly of his relentless barbs.
“Tell you what. If we run into trouble, I’ll give you a call, have you smooth the road. Sound okay?”
“Hell, Taylor, when have you ever had any trouble smoothin’ the road? You’ve got a gun. You can shoot your way clear. You do it enough. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
Taylor bit her lip, forced herself not to respond. He gave her half a smile, turned his back, and walked away. The hitch in his walk was more pronounced from behind.
Marcus looked at Taylor. “Another friend of David Martin?”
She shook her head. “Yeah.”
“Jerk.”
She wanted to smile, but opened the folder in front of her and read quickly, pleased her voice didn’t waver.
“Okay, Marcus, she was in Carmichael Towers East. The roommate’s name is Vicki Chen. Let’s go have a chat with her.”
They set off across the quad, leaves crackling beneath their feet. Shaking off Graber’s comments, Taylor looked around at the young and carefree as they simply existed. They had nothing more serious to worry about than their next test, their next meal, their next party. No dead bodies lined up in rows at the morgue, no bugs crawling through eye sockets, no sense of their own mortality. Maybe they didn’t watch the news, or if they had heard that one of their own was cooling rapidly in a coffin-sized refrigerator, they simply didn’t care.
Taylor sensed the anxiety creeping up her spine. There was nothing she could do to keep any of them safe. She couldn’t stop the rapes, the murders, the abuse. The thematic judgments began rolling through her brain. I can’t help. I can’t stop them; when one goes down, another meaner and uglier one pops up in its place. Why am I doing this anymore? Why, why, why do I even want to be a cop anymore?
She was starting to hyperventilate. Marcus was looking at her strangely. She felt light-headed, but refused to make an ass out of herself in front of her youngest detective. She bent down, looking to anyone who cared as if she were tying her shoe.
“Too bad cowboy boots don’t have laces,” she murmured. She sucked in a couple of breaths, felt her heart slow. Looked up at Marcus, gave him a halfhearted smile. He smiled back quizzically, but didn’t ask if she was okay. She wasn’t, but she’d never admit it to him. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone.
11
Shelby Kincaid, by all accounts, was the good girl her parents insisted she was.
Her roommate, Vicki Chen, met them in the dorm room they’d shared. Chen was pretty, with long, dark hair; small, rectangular glasses; jeans tucked into a pair of brown UGGs, the tops of which were turned down to show the interior fleece. She looked like every other student on the Vanderbilt campus.
And she was devastated by her friend’s loss.
“I just don’t understand how this could happen. She was happy, she was working hard, we had tickets for R.E.M., for God’s sake. You know how quickly that show sold out? She had no reason to wander off.”
Taylor had asked Marcus to talk so he could get more interview experience. With a nod from her, he kept pushing.
“Wander off?”
Chen waved a hand in the air. “She must have, to cross paths with a killer. This is Vanderbilt. It’s Nashville. It’s safe here. That’s why all of our parents want us to go to this school, because it’s so safe.”
Taylor wanted to tell her it wasn’t true—there were no safe schools, safe places. Death could strike anywhere, anyone. But she bit her tongue.
“Tell me more about Shelby’s personality, Vicki. What was she like?” Marcus asked.
“Shy. Quiet. She spent most of her time in the library. She was an engineering student, a damn good one. Straight A’s every semester, carrying a 4.0 GPA. She had to keep the scholarship—her parents can’t afford to send her here.”
“What is tuition now?” Taylor asked.
“We’re at thirty-one thousand, and that’s only tuition, doesn’t include books and meals and housing. It’s gotten very expensive to attend Vandy, and the scholarship kids depend on the help. Shelby had a full academic ride, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“So she’s a good student,” Marcus said. “What else?”
Chen played with the tips of her hair. “Shelby was popular with her teachers, and she seemed happy most of the time. Content. She was pretty homesick, though. She called home several times a week. No car, so she couldn’t head back there on weekends like some of the local students do.”
“How’d she get around?”
“The kindness of strangers. Oh my God, I didn’t mean that. I meant friends. I’m sorry, she just kept to herself so much, didn’t let people in. Even me. She wasn’t super close to anyone here.”
“What was she doing in the days leading up to her disappearance?”
“Nothing. The girl led a pretty dull life. She stayed on campus for the fall break, but most of us do, it’s party time for four days straight. For Shelby, it was extra time to study. She had exams coming up, and preparing was her main focus for the weekend.”
Marcus took a note. “And when was the last time you saw her?”
“Friday night. I talked her into coming to dinner at Willy’s Diner. You know the place, right? It’s easy to walk to, cheap, pretty popular. I practically dragged her kicking and screaming—she didn’t want to waste the cash. But she’d been working so hard, I knew it would be good for her to get out. We hit Willy’s at 6:45 p.m. Around eight, I noticed Shelby hadn’t come back to the table after a bathroom break. I didn’t think much about it—we’d already paid, were just hanging out at that point. I actually laughed it off, figured she’d gone back to the room.” She bowed her head. “I am such a jerk. If I’d paid more attention, maybe she’d still be alive.”
Marcus soothed her. “You can’t think like that, Vicki. It sounds to me you were doing all you could to look out for your roommate.”
A few tears trickled down her face. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t enough, was it? I got back at eleven thirty or so. Shelby wasn’t here, so I assumed she’d gone back to the library. In the morning, no Shelby, and her bed was untouched. Around lunchtime, I went to the library to check on her, wondering if she’d fallen asleep in the carrels. She wasn’t there. I called Metro, but they told me she’d have to be missing for at least twenty-four hours before they could get involved. I didn’t want to call her parents—I was afraid I’d freak them out. She could have been anywhere, you know? By the time Metro would talk to me about filing a report, you’d already found her.”
“What about a boyfriend?” Taylor asked. “Was she seeing anyone?”
She could see the hesitation on Chen’s face, though she answered quickly. Too quickly.
“Are you kidding? Shelby wouldn’t have any time for a boyfriend. I’ve never seen her in the company of any of the men on campus.”
The answer was so pat, so confident, so final, Taylor didn’t buy it. Especially when Chen started to cry in earnest, almost as if she wanted to distract them.
“You’re sure about this? Is it possible she was seeing someone and simply hadn’t told you?”
Chen shook her head, wiping the tears from her face with a red bandana. “No. No way.”
Taylor gave Marcus the whirlybird finger. Time to wrap it up.
He stood, handed the girl a card. “Thank you for your time, Miss Chen. Please call us immediately if you remember anything relevant.”
Taylor and Marcus left the sobbing Chen and wandered back into the quad. Taylor spotted two boys smoking, walked over to bum a cigarette. Marcus watched her with concern, and she gave him a wink. The only time she smoked anymore was when she was really stressed out, but she tried to give him a carefree attitude as cover. Quitting was awful. She felt bad enough about her occasional slips without disapproving glances from her teammates.
She walked back to him, knew he’d seen her slide the spare behind her ear. Appreciated the lack of comment.
“Anything stand out from Chen’s interview?” she asked.
“She was evasive about the possible boyfriend. We need to pursue that angle if at all possible. I think Shelby was seeing someone and didn’t want people to know. Her dad, especially.”
She rewarded him with a big smile. “Excellent. Exactly right. So who was Shelby seeing when she was supposed to be studying at the library? And why was it so important to keep the relationship secret?”
Before he could comment, her phone rang.
“Jackson.”
“It’s Fitz.”
“Thanks for that. I do have caller ID on this thing. What’s up?”
“We’re opening the park back up. Crime Scene got exactly squat, no trace, no worthwhile prints, no ID or clothes. She may well have flown there and landed on those steps.”
Taylor laughed. “That’s about the best logic I’ve heard today. What’s Sam up to?”
“She wrapped things up about an hour ago. She said she’s sending over the autopsy report. Everything’s square with Loughley, too.”
“Hmm. Did you call him?”
“Nope, she did it all by her pretty little self. Why?”
“Nothing, just curious. We’re not getting too much over here either, other than the distinct impression Shelby Kincaid has a secret lover. We’re on our way. You need anything while I’m out?”
“If you get by Jack’s Bar-B-Que, you could grab me some pulled pork, buns, and a Bud,” he said hopefully.
“Mmm, sounds good. Skipping the beer, though. Sorry.” She clicked off her phone and snapped it back onto her waistband.
“Okay, Marcus, let’s get some lunch and head back to the office.”
Taylor took a last drag on her cigarette and flicked it away into the bushes. Saw a figure over Marcus’s shoulder. Chief Graber was standing by Carmichael Towers. He wasn’t smiling. Taylor ignored him, turned her back, and they started walking back to their car.
Taylor’s cell phone rang again as she touched the handle to the driver’s side door. “Yes?”
“Hey, T, it’s Fitz again. You’re gonna have to skip the food. How about meeting me at the sidewalk behind the River Stages.”
Taylor rolled her neck to the left with a loud pop. “And I’m hungry too. What’s so interesting behind the stage, Fitz?”
“How’s about another dead girl?”
Her heart sank.
“Oh no. We’re on our way. Give us five minutes.” She clicked off, looked over at Marcus, who was lounging with his arms across the top of the car, watching the coeds.
“Get in, slugger. We’ve got us another body.”
12
Taylor and Marcus drove back downtown in silence. Riverfront Park was only a few blocks from police headquarters. The body had conveniently washed up in their backyard. They parked and walked toward River Stages, a popular summer concert venue. Fitz waved cheerily at them.
“Come on down and meet our next contestant.” He led them down to the river.
Taylor shook her head and smoothed a stray hair behind her ear. As they neared the water, she saw the tarp over a lump on the riverbank. Marcus stayed a few feet behind her.
“Okay, Fitz, what do you have?”
He pointed unnecessarily at the body. “Well, there we have another dead girl. Boat passin’ by saw something in the weeds, came by for a closer look. She was facedown—they used a grappling hook to turn her over, called 911.”
“Who got here first?”
“Who else? Officer Wills. Happened to be on Second Avenue when the call came—he was here within a minute.”
“Good, good. At least we know he didn’t screw anything up.”
Marcus was shifting from the ball of one foot to another like a small child who needed to go to the bathroom. Taylor caught the movement.
“Okay, Marcus?”
“Yes, ma’am. Though two girls in two days is a little creepy for me.”
“Yes, it is. But that’s what you get when you work Homicide. Let’s go take a look, shall we?”
They made their way to the water’s edge. Taylor leaned in and pulled the tarp back from the body, grimacing at the smell. She hated floaters.
A young woman’s ruined face stared back at her. “Damn,” she said softly. She pulled the tarp the rest of the way back, careful not to disturb anything lying beneath it. The girl was naked, bloated with the buildup of gases that had brought her to the surface. There were five distinct stab wounds on her torso. At least it would be a little simpler to determine what killed this one.
She started to replace the tarp when she heard Sam a few yards away.
“Go ahead and leave it off, Taylor. I need to take a look.” She tripped on some unidentifiable piece of trash and she fell into Marcus, cursing under her breath. He grabbed on for dear life to the first available appendage. It happened to be her left breast. She barked a laugh and gave him a smile that only deepened his blush.
“God, Sam, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay, cookie. Nice catch.” She winked and he recovered nicely, giving her a charming smile back.
“Hey, T. You’re keeping me a little busy, ya know?”
“Yep.” Taylor stepped back from the body to give Sam room to set up. She did so quickly, knelt next to the girl’s body, poking and prodding.
“Stabbed a few times, huh? She hasn’t been in the water too terribly long, maybe a week.” She picked up one of the girl’s white, puffy, wrinkled hands. “Washerwoman’s hands. There’s probably enough skin left for prints. We’ll see. She’s not too old either—I’m guessing between eighteen and twenty-two.” She reached around and rolled the girl onto her left side, picking at the detritus stuck to the girl’s limp body. She scraped some of the dirt into a bag and stuck the bag into the pocket of her jacket. “Hmm.” She rolled her into her previous position carefully and stood up. “Was anything found with her?”
Officer Wills tripped down the bank to join the party. “No, ma’am. We’ve been searching up and down the bank, and there’s nothing out of place.”
“Okay. Let’s have one of the ’gators take a look around. Hey, Taylor?”
“Yup?”
“I’m going to get her back to the office, see if I can get anything to ID her with. And I’m going to post her now, instead of waiting until the morning. Come with?”
“Guess I should. Marcus, head back to the office and tell Lincoln to start another round of database searches. Since she’s been dead awhile, there may be a missing persons report on her. If we get any prints, I’ll bring them over.”
Marcus nodded and headed away purposefully. Taylor shot Sam a knowing look. Poor kid just didn’t like dead bodies. He’d have to get over it if he wanted to survive on her team.
“Fitz, do me a favor, stick around in case they come up with anything.”
“Righto. I’ll ring if anything shows up.”
“Thank you, sir. Sam? Let’s do this.”
Forty minutes later, Sam had the body zipped into a bag and loaded into the back of the unmarked ME van. A small crowd had formed at the top of the hill, and Officer Wills was roping the area off to keep out the curiosity seekers. Taylor followed Sam up the hill, got into her car, and moved out, lost in thought.
Her cell phone rang. She was going to have to turn the thing off; she’d never get anything done if she spent all her time answering calls. She stifled the thought when she saw the caller ID. Sam’s personal number. She clicked on the Talk button.
“I’m right behind you. What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to announce it in front of everyone. I took samples of the muck on her back. Smelled it when I got into the car. There was no unique scent, but the composition looks similar to the herbs we picked off of Shelby.”
Taylor’s heart skipped once, then started again in a rush. “You’re telling me this is the same guy?”
“I definitely don’t want to go there yet. I need to have this analyzed and do the post. But two girls in two days, with similar presentations? Taylor, this isn’t good.”
“No kidding. I’ll see you in a minute.” She hung up the phone and looked at the car passing her on the left. A harried mom with three kids in the back, all laughing and making faces at her as they blew past. They had no idea what waited for them when they got older.
Taylor felt the sadness well up inside her and tears prick her eyes. She shook it off and concentrated on an image of the dead girls.
13
Taylor patiently watched Sam gently slice and dice their floater. Once they had retrieved some messy but usable prints and sent them to Lincoln, she’d decided to stay out of the way. Sam was working fast, looking for any similarities inside the two dead girls while she went through the remaining steps of her post.
Taylor’s phone rang again, and she decided to take a breather and answer it outside. It was Lincoln.
“Hey, Taylor, how’s it going over there?” The scratch of a match and a quick breath out gave her away. “Smoking again?”
“Let me worry about my own lungs. What’s up?”
“I’ve got an ID on the floater.”
“Whoa, you are good. I didn’t know if the prints were going to be usable at all. So who is she?”
“Her name is Jordan Blake. But I don’t think you’re going to want to hear the rest.”
Taylor sank down on the steps, pulling hard on the cigarette, as if a lungful of carbon monoxide would lessen the blow from whatever bad news Lincoln was about to spring. “Shoot.”
“I played a hunch, started with our local AFIS database. It kicked back several possible matches. I eyeballed them to see if we were close. One was.”
“Oh, God no, don’t tell me.”
“She’s a junior at Vanderbilt, Taylor. We have a serious problem on our hands.”
Taylor began to pace the sidewalk in front of Sam’s building, her mind churning. Two girls dead, both murdered, both from the biggest local college campus? This was going to bring everyone out of the woodwork.
“Lincoln, get your butt into Price’s office. Let him know what you’ve got. Has anyone filed a missing persons report on her?”
“I haven’t found one yet. When Sam gives me a solid time line, I’ll be able to get more specific, but I’ve gone through the past month’s reports and haven’t found any matches, which is totally bizarre. I mean, a Vandy student not being reported missing for this long, by anyone? Something’s not jibin’ here, LT.”
“None of this is jibin’, Lincoln. Go on and tell Price what’s up, let him decide how to proceed. Sam should be done with the post soon, so I’ll come in the minute I have the preliminaries. And, Lincoln? Don’t tell anyone about this. Fitz and Marcus are fine, but no one else. Price is going to call the shots from here, okay? We’re going to have media crawling all over us, and we don’t want to make a misstep.”
“You think it’s the same guy?”
“I don’t know. Until Sam finishes the post and we run all the evidence, there’s no way to know. But the posing, the staging, the sexual assault—we may be dealing with more than a simple predator.”
“A serial,” he said, and she heard the teeniest bit of excitement in his voice.
“Possibly. And that, my friend, is top secret information. I’ll be there shortly. Be good.”
“You, too. Oh, hey. There’s a big front headed our way. We’re supposed to have bad weather for the next few days. Be careful.”
Taylor clicked off the phone, tossed the cigarette under the wheel of a relatively new Mustang convertible. Lincoln wasn’t kidding. The sky was darkening, and she could smell the storm; the dry tang of rain getting stronger by the minute. She looked to the west, saw the first lightning strike. Maybe the storm would improve her mood; she always loved a good rain.
Knowing she could put it off no longer, she headed back in to give Sam the bad news.
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