She tried the Kevin Olin number—no answer. She left an innocent sounding message mentioning Jamie on his voice mail. He called back immediately. He sounded like an intelligent person on the phone. She tried to explain Jamie was missing and his ex was refusing to alert the police. He didn’t understand who Sandy was. He said he’d phone Abby and then phone back.
She took out Detective Triney’s card. “Sorry to bother you. You must be off duty by now,” she said when he came on the line. “I wanted you to know I was able to identify Jamie’s father.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“His name is Kevin R. Olin...lives in Athens, GA. He sounded upset when I told him his daughter was missing. He’s checking me out. Will phone back. He’ll be happy to report the kidnapping, and then you can start the official search.”
Silence.
“You there, Triney?”
“I’m thinking I know that name. Yes...a couple of months back. This gets a little weird. I need to explain it to you in person. Let’s meet in the parking lot of the Ramada out by I-95.”
“Okay, I know where it is. When?”
“How about eight in the morning? One more question before we meet. Were you down here in Florida in November when that woman’s naked body was found on the beach?”
Chapter Twelve
Triney had her thinking all night about locating Jamie’s father. And why had the detective mentioned a naked body on the beach in the same conversation? Triney was waiting in his unmarked vehicle in the parking lot of the Ramada when she arrived. He waved and motioned her over. “Unless you’re dying for coffee, let’s talk out here.”
“I don’t know your first name.” She slid in beside him.
“Harold, Harold Triney, perfectly awful, I know. They called me Skinny in high school. Would you rather go inside and have tea?”
She shook her head. “Skinny Triney isn’t much better. Bet they don’t call you Skinny these days.”
“Hey, watch it, girl.” He laughed. “First off, it’s good you located Jamie’s father, Kevin Olin. However, you’ll have to deal with him yourself. Out of line for me to do it until there is an official kidnapping.”
“You mentioned the case of a nude body on the beach. I’m almost afraid to ask. Does this have something to do with Kevin Olin?”
“Yes...”
“Oh god, don’t tell me!” she interrupted.
“Let me explain. It was Privado Beach, just inside the city limits. Last year, November. It was a Park Beach city case, however they briefed all of us at the sheriff’s office. Do you know about the case?
She shook her head. “I’d just arrived from Philly and was preoccupied with getting my brother out of jail.”
“Busy getting close to Chip Goddard, from what I hear. He’s a lucky guy. Anyway, Privado has a reputation as a party beach and there had been trouble out there before. Nothing like a dead woman. An early morning beach walker spotted the body of an adult female out there. Most would call her nice-looking, your age, maybe a bit younger. Half in, half out of the water. No clothes found anywhere.”
“Skinny dipping?”
“Nothing found, no sunglasses, no swimsuit, no purse, nothing.”
“Murdered. I suppose we’re getting to that?”
Triney wasn’t the kind of man to waste time or words. He turned away from her toward the highway as though checking the traffic. “Some would say worse.”
“Got it. Rape and murder.”
“No, the M.E. determined the cause of death was asphyxiation. Said she choked to death on a pretzel.”
“Choked to death on a pretzel,” she repeated slowly, unsure of what she heard.
“Death by choking is not uncommon,” he explained. “A leading cause of accidental death. People underestimate the danger of choking. Stop breathing and you’ll die within five minutes.”
“So there was no murder, so where’s the crime? If she started choking and no one was around to help her, it’d be a horrible way to die. But surely not worse, as you said, than being murdered.”
“Death isn’t always the last outrage.” The detective hesitated and then said, “Posthumous penetration.” He looked down and then up slowly at her face to see if she flinched.
She did. She drew a quick breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed hard. “I could never be a cop. Did you catch the sick piece of shit?”
“I feel like I’m talking to my daughter.” The detective shifted some on the seat. “You really want to hear all this?”
“Truthfully I don’t. I don’t get off on crime scene details. Doesn’t take much to turn my stomach. I prefer the sweet investigative part that comes later, after the victim is cleaned up and lying under a clean white sheet.” Her mind raced on ahead. “I feel sorry for the girl and the people who knew her. But what does this have to do with Kevin Olin? And for Jamie’s sake please tell me there’s absolutely no connection.”
“I’m going to discuss some of this because I know your reputation, you’re professional and discreet. The case is still open. The city police never made an arrest. Abuse of a dead body is a second-degree felony in Florida. It’ll get you fifteen years. They think the felony abuse on the corpse took place higher up on the beach and the tide dragged the body down to the water. Unfortunately, the tide also smoothed all the sand erasing any activity or footprints.”
“Nonsense, beach party evidence would be all over the place.”
“I didn’t mean there was a party that particular night. It’s just that Privado is known as an out-of-the-way beach if you don’t want to be bothered. If someone doesn’t direct you there, you’re not going to find it. Locals love it, never crowded.”
“How’d she get there?” Sandy asked. “She didn’t walk there naked. What about tire tracks? Someone had to park. That leaves evidence. Someone had to walk down to the beach. That gives you evidence.”
“Should have but didn’t. The perp was either clever or lucky. The body was half in the water and flushed by the tide. Nothing was left of any clothing fibers, hairs, saliva, or like that.”
“Semen?”
“Traces were found but unusable. Semen and DNA once contaminated by salt water are useless.”
“You say the perp might be clever. But he must have known he was leaving his semen behind. He couldn’t have anticipated salt water helping him out. That’s dumb thinking.”
“He probably wasn’t thinking at all. At least not with his brain. All his blood was flowing downward.”
She nodded. “The authorities are certain the abuse was post mortem?”
“They can tell...somehow. Also, when the victim is unidentified the medical examiner routinely looks for clues to the occupation. Like the cliche calluses on the hands of laborers. Determining the occupation often leads to the ID. In this case, the medical examiner thought her makeup was unusual. He called it theatrical.”
“Indicating a singer, an actress, or on the stage in some capacity.”
He continued, “Tall and in good physical condition. Leg muscles and abs were firm. Recent pedicure. With the special makeup and all, the M.E. came up with exotic dancer, stripper, whatever. Her prints didn’t help. We checked the missing persons file and a couple of people came forward who thought they might know her. So far, she’s unidentified.”
“That’s sad. Her friends and family don’t even know she’s dead.”
“A young woman dies and nobody cries for her,” the detective sighed audibly.
“I’ll cry if I don’t stop thinking about it. I’d really like to help her. After I find Jamie and clear myself, maybe I’ll look into her case,” she said. “And Kevin Olin?”
“A nearby property owner noticed a white SUV parked, backed almost out of sight, in the beach parking area that night. Now I have to tell you, local law enforcement personnel really took this criminal abuse to heart. They were angry. Would’ve thought it was their little sister found lying there violated. As you might expect, there were
