Don't Cry Part 5

"Yes, sir, but I don't understand. Why does-?"

"I just got off the phone with Sergeant Hudson. He thinks they've found my wife's cousin, Debra."

Audrey swallowed. Instinctively she knew without asking that the police had not found Debra Gregory alive.

"I see. It's not good news."

"No."

"I'm so sorry."

"Our worst fears have been confirmed," Don Hardy said. "Sergeant Hudson was on the scene when he called me. A pa.s.serby on his way to work just happened to see something he thought was odd and called the police. The officers first on the scene found a dead woman sitting in an old, broken rocking chair at an illegal dump site out in Soddy-Daisy."

"And Garth believes the woman is your wife's cousin?"

"Yes. She fits the general description, and your uncle said that she looks exactly like the photo the police have of Debra. If it is Debra, and I'm pretty sure it is, Janice is going to fall apart. They were very close. Debra was like a kid sister to my wife."

"Do you want me to come to your home or-?" Audrey asked.

"Yes, please, as soon as possible. I...uh...I haven't told Janice yet, but I can't put it off much longer. I'll have to leave her to go ID the body. Janice is Debra's closest relative here in Chattanooga."

"If you'll give me your address and directions, I'll be there within the hour."

"Thank you." He hurriedly rattled off the street address and then went over the driving directions with her twice.

Audrey laid the portable phone on the counter, picked up her cup, took two quick sips, and then dumped the tea into the sink before heading straight back to her bedroom. There was no time for breakfast or even a leisurely cup of morning tea.

J.D. had left Zoe a note stuck to the refrigerator with an orange and white UT emblem magnet. They had pretty much fallen into a routine during the past year, each giving the other plenty of s.p.a.ce, neither able to truly connect with the other. Most weekday mornings, they ate breakfast together and he dropped her off at Baylor-the outrageously expensive private school she attended-on his way to the office. But whenever he was called out before breakfast-weekdays or weekends-he'd leave her a note as he had done this morning. Since it was Sunday, he wouldn't have to make arrangements for someone to take her to school, and at fourteen, she was old enough to be left alone without adult supervision during the day.

After several come-to-Jesus talks with Zoe, he pretty much trusted her to do what she was told. She didn't like it, but that's just the way it was. She was a kid. He was her father. He made the rules. She followed them or else.

Or else what?

d.a.m.n it, sometimes he had no idea how to handle her.

She had pushed him to the limit more than once. He had grounded her, taken away certain privileges, and tried to talk sense to her. Only once had he threatened to send her packing. The fear he had seen in her eyes that day was something he never wanted to see again. As much as she hated living with him, as often as she grumbled and complained about how much she disliked him and what a p.i.s.s-poor excuse for a father he was, Zoe knew he was the only game in town. n.o.body else wanted her. If not for him, she would be living in foster care.

The thought unnerved him more than a little. He had heard the horror stories. He'd run across more than one juvenile delinquent who had come out of the system the worse for wear, neglected, and occasionally abused. If Carrie hadn't gotten in touch with him before she died, if she hadn't told him he had a daughter...

Pus.h.i.+ng aside thoughts of how bad he sucked at being a father, J.D. took the Soddy-Daisy/Hixson Pike exit off US-27 North and followed Garth Hudson's directions to the illegal dump site in Soddy-Daisy. After taking TN-319 and following Tsati Terrace, he veered off onto what appeared to be little more than a winding, narrow paved lane. Within minutes, he saw the row of emergency vehicles lined up along the roadside and the swarm of personnel already on site. He carefully parked his '68 Dodge Charger at the end of the line, got out, and then walked a good two hundred yards before reaching the edge of the crime scene. Ordinarily, he didn't use his dad's old car as a daily driver, but his '07 Chevy Camaro convertible was in the body shop. Some goofball had rear-ended him last week.

In a semiwooded area, less than twelve feet from the road, a band of investigators milled around a fifteen-by-fifteen-foot pile of discarded items. An old refrigerator. A ratty, seen-better-days love seat. A twin-size mattress. Empty paint cans. Several overflowing plastic garbage bags. And one old, broken rocking chair, the floral cus.h.i.+ons faded with age and stained from exposure to the weather.

Tam Lovelady turned just as J.D. flashed his badge to the officer guarding the entrance to the cordoned-off area. She threw up her hand and motioned to him. As he approached Officer Lovelady and Sergeant Hudson, his gaze focused on the woman in the rocking chair. Her body sat upright, rigid, as if made of stone. Her pretty face was unblemished, her long, dark hair had been draped about her shoulders, and a small skeleton, wrapped in a blue baby blanket, lay nestled in her lap.

"Looks familiar, doesn't it?" Tam said.

"Yeah," J.D. replied. "This is too similar to the scene at the Lookout Valley Cracker Barrel to be a coincidence."

"You think?" Garth Hudson said sarcastically.

J.D. grunted. "So, are you sure she's Debra Gregory?"

"Ninety-nine percent sure," Garth replied. "Mayor Hardy will ID the body. But for now, we're working under the a.s.sumption that whoever killed Jill Scott killed Debra Gregory. Two abductions. Two murders. The skeletal remains of two babies left with the murder victims. It's the same MO."

J.D. took a step closer to the body and paused beside ME Peter Tipton. Pete watched while the photographer, working under his supervision, snapped shot after shot of the body and the skeleton.

"Asphyxiation," Pete said.

"Huh?"

"Cause of death. She was probably smothered. Just like Jill Scott."

J.D. pointed to the bundle in the victim's lap. "Not a doll this time, either."

"No, not a doll. Another child. About the same size. Probably about the same age."

"So far, we don't have any idea who the first child was, only that it was a male about two years old," J.D. said. "Once we get the DNA results back...h.e.l.l, we haven't identified the first child, and now we have another one."

Pete glanced away from the body in the rocking chair and looked at J.D. "I hate to say it, but it appears we may have a really bizarre serial killer on our hands. A little profiling hoodoo"-Pete gestured with his hands-"might be in order about now."

"Are you suggesting we involve the Feds?"

"Not unless you state boys can't handle it," Pete said. "I heard you've got some experience in that department."

"Where'd you hear something like that?"

"Word gets around."

"I'm just an amateur compared to the real thing."

Only when Tam cleared her throat was J.D aware that she was standing nearby. "Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard the tail end of what y'all were saying, something about Special Agent Ca.s.s being familiar with profiling."

"I know a little something," J.D. admitted. "But if the CPD wants a profile of the killer, then I can put in a call to a buddy of mine at the Bureau or either of you can call the BSU."

"I'll run that by Sergeant Hudson." Tam glanced at her partner, who was talking to one of the uniformed officers. "I don't think he'll object. As long as both the TBI and the FBI keep in mind that this is a CPD case and we're in charge-"

"Enough said." J.D. knew the drill.

Local law enforcement could be territorial, even if they wanted and needed a.s.sistance. When he'd been a.s.signed to the Memphis field office, he'd had a bad run-in with a local county sheriff. The sheriff, a good old boy with a lot of influential friends, had come out of the confrontation smelling like a rose. J.D. had come out of it smelling like s.h.i.+t. He had learned his lesson the hard way, one of many. Not the first, of course, and G.o.d help him, probably not the last either.

"Unofficially, the three of us just talking among ourselves, do you have any gut feelings about this guy-a man who abducts pretty, young, dark-haired women, holds them hostage for a couple of weeks, smothers them, and then poses them in a rocking chair with the skeletal remains of a toddler?" Tam's gaze connected with J.D.'s.

"Just the three of us talking among ourselves, I'd say this guy's got some kind of mommy problem." J.D. looked at the body in the rocking chair. "Maybe some sort of mommy and baby thing. Think about it-a rocking chair, a blue baby blanket, a dead child..."

"Makes sense," Tam said. "But what you just said is pretty much a given, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure, but why put a dead child in her arms?" Pete asked. "What does that mean?"

J.D. shrugged. "Beats me. Unless, in his mind, he's mimicking something."

"What I want to know is where he got the two little skeletons," Tam said. "There are no reports in Tennessee or any of the surrounding states about the graves of any children being dug up, no bodies reported being stolen."

"Which leaves us with what?" J.D. asked.

Tam and Pete stared questioningly at J.D.

"The bodies probably belong to missing children."

"Are you saying you think our killer murdered these little boys years ago and kept their bodies hidden away?" Tam asked.

"Possibly," J.D. said. "Either that or he knew where whoever killed them had buried the bodies."

Chapter 5

After Audrey's arrival at his home that morning, Mayor Don Hardy had left his wife in Audrey's capable hands-his a.s.sessment, not hers-and gone to the Forensics Center on Amnicola Highway to ID Debra's body. Although understandably distraught over her cousin's murder, Janice Hardy had managed to hold it together and not fall apart completely. What she had needed was to talk about Debra, about their close sisterlike relations.h.i.+p and how very much she would miss her cousin. Naturally, Janice had questioned how something so horrible could have happened. Why would anyone want to kill Debra? Or Jill Scott? Two lovely young women apparently killed without rhyme or reason, simply because they fit a certain profile. Young, slender, attractive, brown-eyed brunettes.

An hour ago, shortly before leaving the mayor's home, Audrey had received a call from Tam. She had told Audrey that their lunch plans were unfortunately canceled, and then she had asked her to stop by headquarters that afternoon.

"Dad's here with us," Tam had said. "We're putting our heads together and trying to make sense of things. Dad wants to talk to you, so would you mind dropping by as soon as you can?"

Audrey was supposed to have Sunday dinner with Tam and Marcus and Tam's parents, but the discovery of Debra Gregory's body that morning had changed everyone's plans. a.s.suming that no one else had eaten lunch either, Audrey had stopped by the River Street Deli downtown and bought lunch for four. She figured the "we" Tam had referred to were Tam and Garth and Willie.

Audrey parked her cocoa brown Buick Enclave in the civilian parking lot adjacent to the Police Service Center, across the highway on Wisdom Street. She hoisted her em-bossed black leather Coach bag over her shoulder and picked up the large sack from the pa.s.senger seat. Using the crosswalk between Amnicola Highway and Wisdom Street, she approached the 911 Center and the CPD headquarters housed in the two-story gray buildings.

Everyone at the police department knew Audrey. The old pros had known her all her life and there actually were a few of those still around, men like her uncle Garth and Willie Mullins. Some of the young guns were her friends and a few of them were childhood buddies, as Tam was. Others were acquaintances. She had worked, in an advisory capacity, with the CPD in the past, so no one raised an eyebrow when she showed up at headquarters on a Sunday afternoon. Normally, visitors had to be accompanied by police personnel beyond the front information center desk lobby area.

Audrey went up to the second floor of the PSC, where the patrol squad rooms were located. The door to the office that Garth now shared with Tam stood wide open. Just as Audrey approached, Garth must have sensed her presence. He turned and glared at her, not looking all that happy to see her. She held up the sack and waved it slowly back and forth to let him know that she came bearing gifts. Shaking his head as if reluctantly agreeing for her to join him, he motioned to her. Tam, who stood in the corner of the office, was on the phone. She glanced at Audrey and forced a weak smile.

Willie-Police Chief Mullins-sat behind Garth's desk, his attention focused on the papers and photographs lying on the desktop in front of him. As a general rule, the chief didn't come to headquarters on a Sunday afternoon. But there was a good chance the CPD was dealing with a serial killer and not your regular run-of-the-mill murderer. Both the mayor and the DA were probably breathing down Willie's neck.

She often wondered if Willie missed being an investigator, if he missed working with his old partner, her dad. Of course, no one had forced him to take the police chief position. He could have taken the route her uncle Garth had and turned down chances for promotion just so he could stay in the field.

"I don't want a desk job," Garth had said more than once. "And I sure as h.e.l.l don't want to play politics."

But Willie excelled in his new position. He had an even temper, an easygoing manner, and a keen intelligence that made him an excellent diplomat and a great leader. Garth was smart-street smart and book smart-but he was also temperamental, moody, not easy to get along with, and known for his hard drinking and womanizing.

"Thanks," Tam said to the person on the other end of the line just before she ended their conversation. "Pete Tipton said that if or when another similar murder occurs, the TBI will send in a crime scene vehicle, either from Nashville or Knoxville. A third murder would erase all doubts about our having a serial killer on our hands."

"Is there any doubt now?" Garth grumbled.

"He's killed twice that we know of," Willie said. "He'll kill again. It's only a matter of time before he kidnaps another woman."

"And we don't have a clue who he is or when and where he'll strike again." Tam looked from her father to Audrey. "What's in that sack?"

Audrey placed the sack on Tam's desk. "Sandwiches from the River Street Deli. One for each of us."

"You're not part of this investigative team," Garth told her. "We've got a job to do. So thank you for the sandwiches. Leave them with us and go."

"No," Willie said. "Stay. We can take a break, long enough to eat together." He looked right at Garth. "I want to talk to Audrey. I had Tam ask her to stop by. There are things she needs to know."

Garth mumbled under his breath, but didn't contradict his boss. Instead he said something about getting coffee and disappeared around the corner.

"He's frustrated," Willie told Audrey. "We all are. You know how Garth is."

"Yes, I know only too well," Audrey replied.

Tam opened the sack and removed the four sandwiches, but before handing them out, she looked to Audrey for information.

"Here, let me do that." Audrey handed Willie a sandwich. "Roast beef, rare." Then she placed a sandwich in front of Tam and laid another aside for herself. "A couple of their Elana Ruz sandwiches for us-turkey, cream cheese, and strawberry preserves."

Tam sighed deeply. "If you weren't already my best friend, you would be now."

Audrey and Tam exchanged smiles.

Garth returned with two cups of coffee, gave one to Willie, and kept the second cup. "I figure you girls will want to doctor up your coffee to suit yourselves. I've got no idea how either of you want it."

"I'll get us both a c.o.ke," Tam said. "Does that suit you?"

"A c.o.ke's fine," Audrey replied "I'll make yours regular and mine diet."

Audrey nodded. She and Tam had different body types and different metabolisms. Tam was always dieting. Audrey had never dieted. But she suspected that eventually, probably in her fifties, that would change.

When Tam walked off, Audrey noticed that Willie was once again engrossed with some of the papers and photos spread out on Garth's desk.

"Would I be out of order to ask what you're looking at?" she asked.

"You know better than to ask," Garth told her.

"Sorry." Audrey eased away from the desk.

"It's something we chose not to share with the media." Willie glanced from Garth to Audrey. "But Audrey isn't the media."

"She's not one of us, either," Garth reminded the chief.

Choosing to ignore Garth's comment, Willie said, "It's something that we all find odd about how both bodies were staged."