Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Any identification?” I ask, just needing to make sure. Presumptions will only lead to mistakes in the investigation.
Colton shakes his head.
“Accelerant?” I sniff the air as I crouch above the body.
“If so, they didn’t use much,” Colton answers. “She’s been here at least a few days, but there haven’t been any missing persons reports.”
We’re a small enough department that all persons working in Homicide get emailed each time a report is filed.
“It’s probable she’s been sexually assaulted,” I say.
She’s been stripped naked and set on fire, but the fire didn’t burn long. There’s still a very good chance that if she fought hard enough, she may have evidence on her that will help us identify her attacker.
I stand, clearing my throat as I try to keep it together.
The eerily familiar sight of it all threatens to take over, but I can’t allow it. Remaining professional, proving to all of those that thought my promotion to Homicide was a mistake has always been my goal. If I lose it now, it’s all anyone will ever think of me.
“You okay?” Colton asks.
I clench my jaw at his concern. I know the man is in my corner. He’s never been on the long list of those that expected me to fail, but it still hits me the wrong way.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a pretty rough scene,” he presses, making me glare at him in annoyance. “This is your first murder.”
“And how do you know it’s murder?” I challenge. “She could’ve died of natural causes. She could’ve died of an overdose and her junkie boyfriend could’ve tried to hide her death out of guilt or because he supplied her with bad drugs.”
Colton gives me a slow smile, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that I’ve impressed him.
“Very good, Detective. We follow the evidence, not our opinions. What else do you see?”
I look around the scene, knowing it would be easier to gather clues to her death if the sun was overhead and shining, but we don’t get to pick the time of day a body is discovered. With Colton by my side, I get to work looking for evidence.
The one crime scene tech we have shows up half an hour after I do.
“She’s pretty,” Susie says as she looks down at the body, a sad smile playing on her lips. “Good chance she’s been sexually assaulted.”
I nod, having said the very same thing to Colton.
“They were more worried about hiding that evidence than her identity,” Susie continues, pointing to the burns on her lower half.
Her face is absent of burns, but there is bruising on her right cheek and around her throat.
“Possibly strangled to death.”
I take a step back, needing to not only distance myself a little so Susie can work, but also because it’s sounding all too familiar. Rape, strangulation, and fire to hide evidence. It reads as if related to another case from over fifteen years ago, but that case was solved.
“Lennox,” Colton says, his hand on my arm.
I look up at him, trying to focus as best I can.
“You okay?” he asks again.
I nod, unsure if I’m actually lying or not.
“Are you going to answer that?” Colton asks. “You’re the lead on this.”
I shake my head, the sound of my phone ringing filling my senses. On the drive over, I thought I’d be distracted by the man I spent the last couple of hours with, but this scene is a slap in the face.
“Hello?” I say as I answer, turning my back to Colton because I’m already feeling like a fish out of water.
I’d never tell him that this case hits a little too close to home, that it may not be the best idea to hand it over to me. He knows my history. If he thinks I’m ready, then I need to believe it as well.
“Matthews said to call you with information,” the woman on the phone says, and it takes a little longer than it should to figure it out that it’s Tabatha from dispatch. “I’m sending over a picture.”
My phone chimes just as she says it.
“This car was reported as being deserted out on East Main a couple of days ago. It’s been impounded. The registration came back to Elizabeth Burr.”
“Give me a second,” I say, pulling the phone from my ear to open the text she sent.
As driver’s license photos go, Elizabeth’s looks decent. It’s not one I’d look at and cringe, wondering why the person at the license issuing office thought it would be okay not to retake it.
It’s clear the woman on the ground is Elizabeth Burr, and I feel a sense of relief. Now we can work on finding and prosecuting the person who left her here for the wild animals to pick apart instead of wasting time trying to figure out who she is.