Baldwin and Memphis stepped closer. Sam clipped the thread on a knot, then rolled the girl’s body toward her, exposing the naked skin of the victim’s back. There it was, evenly spaced circles, all along her shoulders, the lower part of her back, her buttocks and her legs. There was one spot just above her tailbone that didn’t have the marks. Taylor looked at it for a moment, thought about the physics of someone lying on their back.
“Someone this thin, there would be a gap above her butt, below her lower back, where the body wouldn’t come in contact with whatever she’d been lying on. That’s why there’s a space in the circles.”
“Look at her arm,” Sam said.
A long dark seam ran up the length of her right arm. The left was clear.
“Just the opposite of Allegra. That is too bizarre,” Taylor said. She looked at it closer, mentally conjuring Allegra’s similar lividity. “Same storage area, perhaps?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Makes sense,” Memphis said. “But none of my victims had anything like this.”
“Nor mine,” Baldwin added. “This is unique to the American crimes. Taylor, was there anything in the previous two murders that had a description of these marks?”
“No. It’s only been the two most recent murders.”
“So he’s changed up how he’s storing them,” Memphis said.
“You’re pretty good at this, aren’t you?” Taylor said, smiling at him in admiration.
“I’ve had some…practice,” he replied.
McKenzie joined them at the table, pointed at the victim. “Good news. We have an identification at least. Leslie Horne. Twenty-two. Tim found prints in the system, she’s been busted for prostitution. He said to meet him back at the CJC, he’ll take the evidence from Manchester into custody and enter everything into the system.”
The five of them stood silently, bearing witness to the girl who now had an identity, a name, a life lost.
“I think she knew Allegra Johnson,” McKenzie said.
“Why do you say that?” Taylor asked.
“Because her address in the system? It’s the same as Allegra’s.”
As they were filing out, Sam stopped Taylor.
“Hey, stick around for a minute.”
Taylor stopped, said, “Y’all go on. I’ll catch up with you in a second.”
When the room was empty, Taylor asked, “What’s up?”
Sam was fiddling with a scalpel. Taylor saw something unexpected in her eyes. Anger.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked, her tone heated.
“What do you mean? I’m working the case. We’ve had a lot of new information today and I-”
“I meant with the Brit. What are you doing?”
Taylor frowned. “What are you talking about, Sam?”
“You were flirting with him.”
Taylor glared at her best friend. “I was not.”
Sam tossed her scalpel onto the tray with a clatter.
“You most certainly were. In front of your fiance and your newest detective, I might add.”
“Oh, please. That’s not true, and you know it.”
Sam came around the autopsy table, stood eye to eye with Taylor.
“Do I? I’ve seen that look on your face before, Taylor. You’re interested in him.”
Her chest felt tight, and she measured her words carefully. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. He’s interesting, but I’m not interested. See the difference?”
Sam shook her head.
“You need to be careful, Taylor. He’s obviously interested in you . He can barely take his eyes off of you. And you were practically preening.”
“Watch yourself, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? You forget who you’re talking to, Taylor. I know every look you have. I’ve nursed you through every crush since we were little girls. You find Memphis attractive, and he feels the same about you.”
“You’re hardly being fair. I just met the man. I don’t know the first thing about him.”
“Ah, but you’d like to.”
“Sam!” She’d only raised her voice to Sam a handful of times in the time they’d known each other. She felt her temper stealing away from her control, and bit her lip hard to contain it. They stared each other down for a few moments, then Sam shrugged.
“You’re a big girl, Taylor. Just remember what happened the last time you found someone you worked with attractive.”
Sam turned away, and Taylor stared at the back of her best friend’s head. A moment later, she whirled away and stomped from the autopsy suite. She couldn’t believe Sam would lob such an insult. This was nothing like the situation with David Martin.
McKenzie was waiting for her in the vestibule after she dumped her scrubs.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, curt and dismissive. “Let’s go.”
It was nearly 8:30 p.m. when Taylor and McKenzie finished with Tim. Baldwin and Memphis had gone back to the hotel to play with the profile. She couldn’t help herself; she was glad they were both gone. She had replayed the afternoon at least fifty times, and still didn’t see that she’d done anything wrong. She most certainly had not been flirting with Memphis, and she was utterly annoyed with Sam for insinuating that she was.
She shook it off and focused on the information she was gathering. There’d be plenty of time to deal with this later.
While they were at the autopsy, the files had arrived from Chattanooga. The perfect distraction. Taylor went through them laboriously then handed them over to McKenzie for processing. Tim had inputted the DNA signature from Leslie Horne’s autopsy into their system and taken all the samples from Manchester, put them in the system as well. If there was a match to be had, he’d find it. He copied Pietra Dunmore at Quantico on everything he was doing.
Taylor was torn. Even she didn’t relish the idea of going back into the Napier Homes after dark-anything and everyone was fair game to be shot. Without a full contingent of cops at her side, she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of rolling up into the hood to question them about Leslie Horne.
So she did one better. She called Gerald Sayers at home, asked him if he could get a few of his folks to rouse Tyrone Hill.
Gerald cursed a few times for good measure, but agreed to have Tyrone brought into the CJC to have a quick chat. He’d be there in an hour. 9:00 p.m., and that would be perfect. She’d like to wrap as much of this up today as she could.
She didn’t relish the idea of running into Elm in the Homicide offices either, but she had to take the chance. She needed to get some of this stuff written out.
The burgers from Manchester seemed like ages ago. She called for Thai, ordered enough for the three of them to nosh before they dealt with Tyrone.
McKenzie was still working with Tim on finalizing the Manchester data, seemingly fascinated by the legwork. Tim was enjoying himself, too, explaining his techniques and the data collection methodology. She’d almost forgotten that this was McKenzie’s first real homicide investigation-he’d certainly come a long way in two days.
The impact hit her. They’d only been on this case for forty-eight hours. They were making spectacular progress. Momentum meant everything in a homicide investigation, and she could feel how close they were.
The food arrived and they inhaled it. When they were finished, Tim adjusted a few files, then announced that he was done, so they cut him loose and walked from the lab across the street to the CJC. There were dark shadows shifting in the parking lot, which made her remember Fitz’s call. The worry welled up inside her, then the quiet. She’d been so wrapped up in the case that she hadn’t tried calling. She did now, finding the return number in her cell phone history. There was no answer, so she left a message. She tried to sound upbeat, told Fitz they were working on a great case and for him to come back soon and help her out.
