“No, but Abbott’s a Memminger name.” Frank shook a cigarette out of his pack. “All of ’em are Dew-Lolly pieces of shit.”
Dew-Lolly was the seedy intersection of two hopeless streets in Memminger County. The area was two counties over, so the occupants were not Jeffrey’s problem. He had often heard the Memminger sheriff refer to some of the county’s more idiotic offenders as a real Dew-Lolly.
Jeffrey said, “Caterino had a number stored in her phone for someone named Daryl. That name ever come up in connection to Felix Abbott?”
“Daryl?”
“No last name. Just Daryl.”
“Not ringing a bell, but you know my bell is from the Liberty Line.” Frank asked, “Why’re you asking? You looking at either of them?”
“I’m looking at the entire town.” Jeffrey watched Sara gather the tent stakes and rope. Her jaw was tensed as they set off toward the crime scene. She had seen first-hand the damage to Tommi Humphrey. Of the four of them, only Sara really understood what they might find deep in the woods.
Brock shifted the heavy canvas tent onto his shoulder. “Sara, please thank your mother for coming by last night. It was sweet of her to sit with Mama. Her asthma’s been acting up something fierce. I’m afraid she’ll end up in the hospital again.”
Sara rubbed his arm again. “You can call me night or day if she needs help. You know I don’t mind.”
“Thank you, Sara. That means the world to me.” Brock looked away. He used his sleeve to wipe his eyes.
Frank said, “Truong was found by a student, Jessa Copeland. Matt’s taking her statement back at the station.”
“Tell him to stay with her until her family or a friend can take over.”
“He knows.” Frank lit his cigarette. He was the only one of them who wasn’t carrying anything. Considering his poor health and the three-hundred-yard hike, that probably wasn’t a bad idea. “Copeland, the one what found her, was running in the woods. She got turned around, strayed off the path. That’s when she saw Truong. She recognized her immediately from the message boards. I came out with Matt and Brad. Brad’s still with her.”
“What does she look like?”
“Same as Caterino. On her back. Clothes in place. She’s got a mark here.” Frank tapped his fingers on the side of his temple. “Bright red, circular, like the size of a quarter.”
Sara looked back at Jeffrey.
Like the head of a hammer.
Frank said, “It was pretty obvious she was gone, but I felt for a pulse. Matt felt for one. Brad tried, too, then he put his ear to her chest to make sure.”
Jeffrey got to the bad. “What else?”
“Blood.” He indicated the lower part of his body. “Everywhere.”
Sara asked, “Was she lying on an incline, her pelvis lower than her chest?”
“Nope.”
“Only two things make blood flow: gravity and a pumping heart. She must’ve been alive for a while.”
“Dear God,” Brock murmured. “That poor, broken creature.”
Sara looped her free arm through his. Brock was her age, but he was one of those men who had always presented himself as older. She talked to him in a low, soothing voice. Brock seemed relieved to have the comfort.
Frank told Jeffrey, “I might hang up my hat alongside Brock’s after this one.”
“There’s another case, a living victim, who might be connected to this.” Jeffrey wasn’t going to share the details. “We need to look at the sex offender list.”
“Easy-peasy.”
Jeffrey tried not to let Frank’s sarcasm get to him. The GBI was mandated by law to maintain a searchable database of registered sex offenders, but the legislators, in their wisdom, hadn’t allocated additional money or resources to make that happen. The backlog was tremendous. Some of the rural counties were still using dial-up to go online. The Department of Justice had found the state’s records deficient almost from the outset.
That didn’t mean they shouldn’t try.
Jeffrey told Frank, “Pull somebody off patrol and sit them down in front of a computer.”
“Why don’t I hang one more exit sign on the Titanic while I’m at it?”
“You got any better options?” Jeffrey demanded. They had no clues, no suspects, and their only possible witness was lying dead at their second crime scene. “What did Chuck Gaines say?”
Frank made a face. “He came down here swinging his dick around. I told him to get the hell back to his cave. Matt’s checking the security cameras, but there’s no way this guy parked on campus. He must’ve come up the other side of the woods. Maybe the fire road.”
“She’s been missing for over twenty-four hours.” Jeffrey took in his surroundings. The woods were dense. Ivy kept tangling around his shoes. “Why do you think she was here all night?”
“I didn’t see any ligature marks on her ankles or wrists. She’s fit, young. She would’ve fought back. He would’ve tied her up.” Frank horked up some phlegm, then spat it out. “I’m not a coroner, though. And I damn sure ain’t a medical examiner. What happened yesterday, there’s no way I would’ve said Caterino was anything but an accident.”
Brock said, “We’re lucky you were there, Sara. I’m not sure I would’ve asked the right questions, either.”
Jeffrey hated that he was thinking about the lawsuit Gerald Caterino might file, which meant that none of them should be tossing around what ifs that they might later be compelled to explain in a deposition.
He directed his thoughts back toward the case, remembering something Tommi Humphrey had told him, a detail that connected her attacker to Rebecca Caterino’s.
He asked Frank, “Did you see anything blue on Truong, maybe around her mouth or on her throat?”
Frank stopped walking. “How did you know?”
Sara was paying attention now. She asked, “Know what?”
“Her lips had a blue stain here.” Frank pointed at his mouth. “Reminded me of when Darla was little and she drank too much Kool-Aid.”
Sara caught Jeffrey’s eye again. The stain wasn’t from Kool-Aid. It was likely from blue Gatorade. That would explain why Truong’s wrists and ankles showed no ligature marks. As with Tommi
