She laughed.
“I have talents in more than just one room of the house, Teffinger.”
He turned out to be the first one to work, as usual, and got the coffee pot gurgling. One of the fluorescent lights over his desk hummed like a madman, so he took it out and swapped it with one from the chief’s office.
That was much better.
He dumped a cold half-cup of yesterday’s coffee in the snake plant, filled the cup with fresh stuff without rinsing, and then sipped it as he listened to his voice mails. One of them was from CNN, who wanted to interview him today on the four-body case. That was fine. The public had a right to know what was going on. He just needed to be careful to not give any secrets away.
Plus, Davica would be impressed, seeing him on the news.
Sydney showed up around 7:30, wearing a dark-blue skirt with a matching jacket, and walked to the coffee pot. Teffinger met her there and held out his cup while she still had the pot in her hand. She filled him up.
“I checked my messages driving in,” she said. “If we received any tips on who the 911 caller is, they didn’t come to me.”
“Me either,” Teffinger said.
“We got her face in the paper this morning,” she added. “Someone will call with her name today, guaranteed. I just hope she doesn’t play hide-and-seek.”
They ended up at his desk, he with his feet propped up but pointed away from her so she wouldn’t have to look at the bottom of his shoes.
“Okay,” he said, thinking out loud. “Let’s see where we’re at on this. The biggest thing we need to do is find out who victim number four is. She’s been haunting me because she’s so young, that and the fact that she had her eyes gouged out.”
Sydney frowned.
“Any word yet on whether that happened pre or post-mortem?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing yet,” he said. “But if it was pre, I’m going to personally rip the guy’s head off and pee in the hole.” He wove a pencil in his fingers and snapped it in two. “Same thing goes for Rachel Ringer’s killer. If he took her head off while she was still alive, he’s going to wish he hadn’t.”
She studied him.
“So you’re thinking we’re dealing with different killers.”
That was true.
“Three of the killings are violent,” he said, “but in different ways. As to the fourth woman-the one with no obvious signs of trauma-we’re still waiting on the cause of death. I already know it’s going to be suffocation or poison. Either way, I think we have four different killers.”
Sydney had a serious expression.
“Theoretically, then, Davica is still a suspect as to Angela Pfeiffer.”
Teffinger dismissed the concept with a facial expression.
“Not really,” he said. “She’d never be connected in any way to other killers. She’s basically a decent person who just happened to get tangled up in a love life that went south.”
“She’s partying her way through life, the way I hear it,” Sydney said.
Teffinger nodded.
“True to a point,” he said. “But there’s a lot more to her than that.”
“So have you joined the party yet? Fully, I mean?”
“No, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold out, if you want to know the truth,” he said. “You’re the only one who knows that, by the way.”
She shook her head in disapproval.
“Nick, I’m honestly starting to worry about you,” she said. “You never played this fast and loose with the rules before.”
That was true.
“Why jeopardize your job or your reputation, is all I’m saying,” Sydney added.
He knew she was right.
But she didn’t understand Davica’s power.
Time to change the subject.
“We need to find out who the fourth woman is. My guess is that she disappeared right around the time of the other three victims, which is the beginning of April. I think if we do a state-wide search of missing persons from that timeframe, she’s going to pop up.”
Sydney agreed.
“I can do that, if you want.”
“I want,” he said. “You should probably get right on it. We’re going to look pretty stupid if CNN figures it out first.”
An hour later, Teffinger received a telephone call from an attorney named Blake Gray. As soon as he hung up, he walked over to Sydney and grabbed her by the arm.
“We’re taking a field trip,” he said.
She stood up and fell into step.
“Where?”
“To interview our 911 caller.”
“You found her?”
“More like she found us,” he said.
29
DAY FIVE-SEPTEMBER 9
FRIDAY MORNING
Aspen found two new files on her desk when she arrived at her office-more dogs for the doghouse. She didn’t care. The worst day at work was still better than the best day in the unemployment line. She touched base with the lawyers who had dropped them off, calendared the due dates, and then concentrated as much as she could on pounding out assignments.
She hadn’t slept much last night.
That forced her to shore up with too much coffee this morning.
Plus Rachel’s death wouldn’t leave her alone. She kept getting a mental picture of someone sawing Rachel’s head off. On top of that, Jacqueline Moore hadn’t shown up yet to apologize in person.
She jumped when her phone rang.
Blake Gray’s voice came through.
“The cops are on their way over to interview you,” he said.
“Okay.”
“You sound stressed.”
She probably did but said, “I’m fine.”
“Why don’t you come up to my office? We’ll get organized.”
When she got to his office, Blake was standing in the doorway talking to Jacqueline Moore. The woman saw her and said, “Sorry about last night. I have some personal stuff going on. I was wrong to unload on you.”
Aspen said, “No problem.”
Jacqueline hugged her around the shoulders and said, “I’m a bitch, but most of the time I’m a nice bitch. Yesterday things got away from me.”
“I understand.”
“We’ll do lunch and I’ll tell you some gossip to make up for it,” Jacqueline said.
Blake jumped in.
