Johanna had objected when they told her to get in the back. The rear seat was where the criminals sat, and she would be riding through town in the back, making everyone think that she’d committed a crime. The mere thought of it bothered her.
“It’s all we’ve got,” the officer said. “We need you to come with us. We’ll drop you back here when you’re done.” He waved a hand to motion her inside. She paused and then climbed into the back of the car, feeling guilty as she did.
Bars ran horizontally and vertically across the opening between the front seats and the rear. She slumped a little in the backseat because she wasn’t sure where they were going or who they would see on their way. The thought of being accused left her embarrassed.
Johanna recognized the area of town they were heading towards. Covedale was once a lower-income Catholic neighborhood that had somehow built two hundred or so beautiful homes in the styles of the early twentieth century. The families had moved out as the children grew up. They had been purchased by several trendy or gay folk, who had returned the homes to their original beauty. She wasn’t sure that either the woman or man from last night seemed the type to live here.
They pulled in front of a two-story home and stopped. Johanna could easily have determined that this was their destination since she counted four other patrol cars and two black vans. The officer on the passenger side let her out of the rear seat, and they headed up the front walk. She marveled at the number of people in various roles and ranks outside the house.
“Are we going in?” she asked. “Is there a body still in there?”
The man shrugged. “From what I understand, we’re waiting on a warrant. No one has gone in yet. No one seems to be home—or if you’re right—there could be a dead body inside. However, we don’t want to compromise the scene in any way, so we want to do this exactly by the book.”
She nodded, but Johanna felt like so much had been left out of that conversation. The house was locked up, but someone had placed the dead woman in her home? He’d apparently carried her to his car, driven her here, put the woman in the house, and then left—locking up behind him. Which likely meant he knew the victim well. This was turning out to be a crime that was committed by someone close to the dead woman.
If she lived alone, Johanna couldn’t understand why he’d taken the woman so far from home to kill her. Indeed, they would have been equally secluded in a house owned by a single person.
By Johanna’s watch, she’d been there for the most of an hour before another car drove up, and yet another patrol officer made his way up to the house. She watched in horror as the men burst through the door and began to call out, as they combed through the house. She recognized the efficiency and method, but she had a horrible idea that she knew what they’d find.
After a minute or so, she heard a different type of shout, and two of the people she assumed to be the forensics team headed inside as well. It would only be a matter of time now before she’d be asked to identify that woman. She felt a pang of sadness as well as the anxiety from last night.
She’d been right; the woman had been murdered in the car and brought here. Johanna was glad that this would soon be over. Her life could continue, somewhat uninterrupted by the crime.
A gurney was carried down the stairs, carrying a covered body. Johanna had seen enough crime dramas to know that the woman was dead. There were no IVs or machines, and the EMTs had not hurried to the ambulance.
They stopped in front of Johanna and waited. The first officer came up behind, startling her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump,” he apologized.
She nodded.
“This is the body we found inside, and we need you to identify her. Caucasian woman, just like you said.”
She nodded again, fearing that speaking would cause her to break down. She didn’t want to show any emotions at the moment. She wanted this to be over.
He pulled back the sheet and paused.
Johanna looked down. The woman on the gurney was older: nothing like the woman she’d seen last night. “It’s not her,” she said quietly. “That’s not the woman I saw.”
Chapter 3
Johanna pushed her head off the sofa pillow and looked up. Her best friend was standing over her. For a second, she recalled a similar situation where the police officer had done the same thing. However, with this, Marnie didn’t intend to intimidate her, but she obviously felt concerned. She had her bottom lip pulled in, her eyes slightly shaded by the lids.
“You’re on the news,” Marnie informed her, with no preamble. “You saw a murder and then led the police to another body.” The words sounded almost surreal coming from her friend. The morning had felt unreal, but these words felt even more so in such an everyday setting.
“Yeah,” Johanna said. “It’s a long story.”
Marnie sat down on the edge of the sofa. “I have time. I want to hear all about it.”
Johanna sat up and tried to focus. She’d gone without coffee that morning, and the headache that played around the edges of her brain was threatening to take over. “Let me get some coffee,” she said, starting to stand.
Marnie pointed to the coffee pot. “I’ve already made some. It’s nice and strong. I figured you’d need it after this morning.”
She managed to pour a cup of coffee and loaded it
