with their food and an open invitation from the mayor’s daughter to come back anytime.
On the highway north, Taylor drove with one hand and bit into the juicy, cheesy burger. It was heaven.
“Simmons was right, this burger is pretty good,” McKenzie said through a wad of bun.
“That’s an understatement.” Her cell rang. “Hey, get that for me, wouldja? Put it on speaker.”
McKenzie answered her phone in a mock Scottish accent. “Detective Taylor Jackson’s phone. Please hold for Detective Jackson.”
She laughed. Who knew McKenzie had a sense of humor? It was getting easier to be around him-she had the feeling he might just make a good detective one of these days.
She swallowed her mouthful of burger and answered. “This is Detective Jackson.”
“This is Clyde Stone, from Chattanooga homicide. Got your message about an open murder case you’re requesting information on. What can I do to help?”
“Fabulous, thanks. I had a ViCAP match from your jurisdiction, a victim named Sharonda Guilmet. Remember the case? What can you tell me about the investigation?”
“Ah, Sharonda. That was a weird one. She was killed a year ago. She was a pro, turning tricks for crack. You know how that goes. She disappeared for a while, then showed up dead back in her apartment, skin and bones, with some kind of classical music playing on her stereo.”
Too much of a coincidence, Taylor thought. “What was the music?” She could hear him shuffling papers, looking for the information.
“Here it is. Something called Requiem Mass, by Mozart. Creepy-ass shit, lots of chanting and stuff.”
Taylor bit back a laugh. Chanting wasn’t exactly the term she’d use to describe it.
“Fitting that he’d choose a requiem mass. Was her cause of death starvation?”
“Yeah. She’d been gone for a couple of weeks, no one knew an exact date. She shows up back in her own bed, bones sticking out everywhere. It was weird.”
“No staging, no arrangement of the body?”
“Nope. She was in the bed with the covers drawn up. You got a suspect for me?”
“No, not yet. But I think we’re getting close. This is the third murder that I’ve found that has the music, the second confirmed COD of starvation. I’ve got another victim that we found today floating in a lake being autopsied this evening. That could make four in Tennessee alone. Did you collect any physical evidence?”
“Sure, the usual. Rape kit was positive for semen, we’ve got it in CODIS, but never had a match. She was a whore, remember. Lots of Johns could have left it.”
“Whoa! You’ve got DNA?”
“Sure do.”
“Clyde, you just made my day. Can you fax me the results, and send me the CODIS information? I’ll get it to Quantico, they’re investigating a string of similar murders in Italy and the UK. Seems our boy has been kind of busy. And is there any way you could courier the case files to me? I’d love to come down, but I won’t be able to get there until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. If you’d be willing to share what you have, I might be able to help you clear the case.”
“Sure. Why not. I’ll have them to you in a few hours.”
“You are my new best friend. Thank you so much.”
She gave him the information he needed, then clicked off.
“Well, McKenzie, things are looking up. Let’s go see how our lady of the lake is faring with the M.E.”
Getting close. Getting very close.
Twenty-Four
B aldwin and Memphis had been hammering away at the details of the profile for two hours when Baldwin’s phone rang. He saw it was Taylor calling and excused himself.
“Hi, babe. What’s up?”
“I’ve got great news for you. I’ve been connecting the dots, looking at possible earlier crimes. I think we have two more definite kills, and we may have DNA for you.”
“Seriously? That’s excellent.”
“Yes, it is. And I just got a call from Taschen Books in New York. They’ve tracked down the copyright pages from the Picasso monographs, I’m still waiting for their fax. We’re getting close, I can just feel it. How are things with you?”
“Highsmythe and I have been running through our cases in Italy and England. I’m making alterations to my profile based on some of his theories. When will you have the DNA?”
“It’s already in CODIS. Your forensics analyst can access it. Victim’s name is Sharonda Guilmet. I’m heading to the autopsy of my Radnor Lake victim right now, I’ll get you what I have as soon as I get it. I’m waiting on a courier to bring me the case files and relevant information from Chattanooga.”
“Babe, this is incredibly great news. Keep me posted, okay? You remember Pietra Dunmore, right?”
“Of course. She’s the one who came down to Nashville on the Snow White case, with Charlotte.”
“She’s working this for me. She’ll run the forensics as soon as we have all the pieces. If there’s a match to be found, Pietra will find it.”
“Okay. I’ll call you after the autopsy. I should have everything ready for you then.”
“Would you mind if we joined you?”
“At the post? Not at all.”
“Good. I appreciate it.”
He hung up and gave Memphis the thumbs-up sign. “We’re in. Let’s go.”
Twenty-Five
Forensic Medical’s parking lot was nearly empty-only Sam’s BMW 330ci convertible was parked in its arranged spot. The sun was setting, the post-storm sky fired with billowing pink-and-red clouds. Taylor and McKenzie made their way to the front doors.
McKenzie was riffing. “Our second autopsy in two days. I was hoping that homicide had a few less homicides in it and more assaults.”
“McKenzie, I think there might be hope for you yet.” She swiped her passcard and the door unlocked. “It’s not always like this. Homicide is usually quiet, boring and staid, loads of paperwork and trial follow-ups. These kinds of spree killings are rare.”
They entered the lobby, dark and quiet. It was rather sinister with the lights off, the ghosts of sentient beings flowing around in the gloom.
“When you were lieutenant, didn’t you handle some of that? Didn’t the murder rates drop while you were running things?”
That was the first time he’d openly alluded to her demotion.
“Yes, I did. Before we were decentralized, when we had the Murder Squad, our close rate was eighty-three, eighty-four percent. Now, with all this infighting and backstabbing, the chief not being at all in touch with the troops, things are deteriorating. I think the bad guys know we aren’t as stable as we used to be. They can get away with more, and the chief calling on the communities to police themselves is a joke. Ah, well. What can you do, McKenzie?”
“I heard a rumor that you’re fighting to be reinstated as lieutenant.”
They were at the doors to the autopsy suite. She stopped, turned to him. She weighed her answer carefully. She didn’t trust McKenzie, not completely. Even after today’s revelations. She wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t a plant, someone Delores Norris, Elm and the chief hadn’t assigned to keep tabs on her, looking for more ammunition. He seemed like a regular guy, another young homicide detective eager to learn, to move up in the ranks. But she’d been burned before. Hell, look at the David Martin situation. And she’d slept with him.
