“This murder didn’t happen tonight?” Jake poked his head into the bedroom where Andrea lay on her bed, covers pulled up to her waist. He could see the red face card in her mouth from here. “No sexual assault?”
“Just like the others, and yeah, looks like she’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours based on the fixed, dilated pupils, body temperature and lividity.” Billy gestured to the patrol officer standing guard over the body. “Can we have the room?”
“Yes, sir.” The officer squeezed past them at the door, leaving Billy and Jake alone with the victim.
Jake approached the bed, not touching anything. Billy had already done a preliminary examination of the body, and neither the photographer nor the fingerprint tech had gotten here yet, so he wanted to leave the scene intact for them.
The responding officer had given Billy the lowdown, and Jake continued to pick his partner’s brain. “No forced entry?”
“Not that they can see at the windows or doors.”
“Boyfriend just moved out. Does he still have a key?”
“He does.” Billy jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s how he got in to discover Andrea had been murdered. He used his key.”
“We’ll bring him in for questioning.” Jake picked up Andrea’s left hand—the one now missing a finger. “I mean, he could’ve staged this to look like a copycat.”
“Anything’s possible, man.” Billy jerked his head up at the sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door. “You need any more time before we invite the hordes in here?”
“I’ll take a look around the rest of the house.” Jake skimmed his hand across the bedspread, his glove sticking in a couple of areas. “Have you spoken to the boyfriend yet?”
“Not really. He was in shock. That’s why I sent him to the ambulance.” Billy nudged Jake’s arm as he studied his fingertips. “What wrong? Find something?”
Jake whipped out two tags from a plastic bag and stuck them on the bedspread in two spots. “I felt something here and here. It felt sticky. It could be saliva, semen. Make sure these are preserved and tested.”
Billy turned to the door and invited the crime scene investigators hovering there into the room. “Do your thing. Jake, I’ll hit up the boyfriend. See if he can form a coherent sentence now.”
Jake gave up his spot next to the victim to the techs and backed out of the room. He did an about-face in the hallway and entered another bedroom. This one contained a daybed and a small dresser and looked unused—for the guests Andrea would never have.
He checked the window and the screen on the outside and popped his head into the small closet. Could the killer have hidden here waiting for Andrea to come home? Possible, but how’d he get in to ambush her?
He took a few steps across the living room to another bedroom, which had been converted into an office. This room didn’t have a closet, just a desk, filing cabinet and a bookshelf. Crouching down, he read the titles—mostly self-help, yoga and exercise books, and a volume of Langston Hughes poetry. Jake swallowed. A dream deferred, indeed.
A cursory check of the window offered him nothing, and he entered the kitchen. He tried the door next to the pantry, and it opened onto a one-car garage where Andrea’s compact waited.
He flicked the switch to his right and light flooded the garage. Andrea’s organization skills didn’t extend to the garage. Although she’d left enough room to pull her car inside, she’d crammed boxes and bikes and snowboards into the remaining spaces.
He took one step down and felt the hood of the car with this hand. He opened the car door and looked for a garage door opener on the visor. Instead, Andrea’s new-model car had buttons that could be programmed to open a garage door.
He punched one, and the garage door started its journey along the tracks. Another stab at the button stopped the door’s progress and another brought it back down. The garage door wasn’t locked, but it would’ve made a lot of noise opening. Andrea probably would’ve heard that.
Jake picked up a crumpled receipt on the console and squinted at the date. Andrea had bought a soda and a bag of chips at a gas station convenience store at 8:46 p.m. yesterday. If she had been dead for about twenty-four hours like Billy thought, this must’ve been her last trip outside.
Resting his hands on the steering wheel, he murmured, “What happened when you got home, Andrea?”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and a cop stuck his head into the garage. “Is that you, Detective Mac?”
Jake waved his hand out the car door. “Checking out the vehicle.”
“Okay, medical examiner is here, and Detective Crouch is done talking to the victim’s ex.”
“Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.”
The cop ducked back inside the house and the door slammed shut. Jake dropped the receipt into a plastic bag.
He slid from the car and tried the handle of the door back to the kitchen. The handle didn’t turn, but he was able to push open the door. He ran his finger over the button on the handle, which was in the locked position.
“What are you doing?” Billy stuck his foot against the door to hold it open.
Jake tapped his fingertip against the wad of gum lodged against the lock tab in the door. “This is how the bastard got in…and he left his DNA.”
Don’t miss The Decoy by Carol Ericson, available May 2021 wherever Harlequin Intrigue books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
Copyright © 2021 by Carol Ericson
ISBN-13: 9780369709943
Bride of the Tiger
First published in 1987. This edition published in 2021.
Copyright © 1987 by Heather Graham Pozzessere
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text
