Cause to Fear Page 2

  He rolled his eyes at her and she turned back to the ice. She dropped the snapped hair tie into the water and watched it bob up and down for a moment. Then it slowly caught the sluggish current of the water beneath the ice. It was pushed away and under the ice to her left, further out toward Watertown.

  So she was dropped in somewhere else, Avery thought, looking down the river in the direction of Boston. On the bank, Connelly and the officer he had been speaking to were heading up behind the Forensics team.

  Avery remained on the ice, standing straight up now. She was getting very cold as she watched her breath vaporize on the air. But something about the cold temperature seemed to center her. It allowed her to think, to use the light creaking noises of the ice as a metronome of sorts as she put her thoughts together.

  Nude and not a blemish or bruise on her. So assault is ruled out. No jewelry, so it could have been a robbery. But most cases of a body after being robbed would show some signs of struggle…and this woman was spotless. And what about those nails and the absolute lack of hair anywhere other than her head?

  She slowly walked to the bank, looking down the frozen river to where it rounded a bend and kept on in the direction of Boston. It was weird to think of how beautiful the frozen Charles River looked from Boston University while less than twenty minutes away a body had been pulled from it.

  She pulled up her coat collar around her neck as she walked back to the bank. She was just in time to see the back doors of the Forensics van close. Connelly was approaching her but he was looking beyond her and out to the frozen water.

  “You get a good look at her?” Avery asked.

  “Yeah. She looked like a damn toy or something. All pale and cold and…”

  “And perfect,” Avery said. “Did you notice there was no hair on her? No bruises or bumps, either.”

  “Or jewelry,” Connelly added. With a heavy sigh, he asked: “Dare I ask for your initial thoughts?”

  She was much more willing to be unfiltered with Connelly now. She had been ever since he and O’Malley had offered her a promotion to sergeant two months ago. In return, they seemed more willing to accept her theories from the get-go rather than questioning the hell out of everything that came out of her mouth.

  “Her fingernails were perfectly trimmed,” she said. “It’s like she had just come out of a salon before she was dumped in the river. Then there’s the lack of hair anywhere. One of those things is odd enough but together, it screams intentionality to me.”

  “You think someone cleaned her up before they killed her?”

  “Seems like it. It’s almost like the funeral parlor making the dead look as presentable as possible for the open casket. Whoever did this cleaned her. Shaved her and did her nails.”

  “Any idea why?”

  Avery shrugged. “I can only speculate right now. But I can tell you one thing that you probably aren’t going to like very much.”

  “Ah hell,” he said, knowing what was coming.

  “This guy took his time…not even in the killing, but in how the body would look when it was found. He was intentional. Patient. Based on similar cases, I can almost guarantee you she won’t be the only one.”

  With another of his patented sighs, Connelly dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call a meeting at the A1,” he said. “I’ll let them know we have a potential serial killer.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Avery supposed that if she was going to take the position of sergeant, she needed to get over her hatred of the A1 conference room. She had nothing against the room per se. But she knew that a meeting held within it so soon after the discovery of a body meant that there would be cross-talking and arguing, most of which would be used to shoot down her theories.

  Maybe as sergeant, that will come to an end, she thought as she walked into the room.

  Connelly was at the head of the table, shoving papers around. She figured O’Malley would be in soon. He’d seemed a lot more present at any meeting she was a part of ever since they had offered her the sergeant position.

  Connelly looked up at her through the growing crowd of other officers. “Things are moving quickly on this one,” he said. “The body pulled from the river was ID’ed exactly five minutes ago. Patty Dearborne, twenty-two years of age. A Boston University student and Boston native. Right now, that’s all we know. The parents will need to be informed once this meeting is over.”

  He slid over a folder that contained only two sheets of paper. One showed a picture taken from Patty Dearborne’s Facebook profile. The other sheet showed three photos, all taken from the Charles River earlier in the day. Patty Dearborne’s face was present in all of them, her purple-tinted eyelids closed.

  In a morbid train of thought, Avery tried to see the young woman’s face in the same way a killer might see it. Patty was gorgeous, even in death. She had a body that Avery herself would have seen as far too skinny but bar-wandering men would salivate over. She used this mentality, trying to gauge why a killer would choose such a victim if there were no sexual implications.

  Maybe he’s after beautiful things. The question, of course, is if he is seeking these beautiful things in order to fawn over them or to destroy them. Does he appreciate beauty or does he want to obliterate it?

  She wasn’t sure how long she had been thinking about this. All she knew was that she jumped a bit when Connelly called the meeting to order. There were a total of nine people in the conference room. She saw that Ramirez had snuck in. He was in a seat near Connelly, looking through the same type of folder Connelly had given her moments ago. He apparently felt her looking at him; he glanced up and smiled at her.

  She returned the smile as Connelly started. She dropped her gaze right away, not wanting to be too obvious. While just about everyone in the precinct knew that she and Ramirez were an item now, they still liked to try to keep it under wraps.

  “Everyone should have been briefed by now,” Connelly said. “For those of you that have not, the woman has been identified as Patty Dearborne, a BU senior. She was found in the Charles River just outside of Watertown but she is a Boston native. As Detective Black pointed out in the briefing you all received, the current of the river suggests that the body was dumped elsewhere. Forensics is guessing that her body was in the water for as long as twenty-four hours. Those two things add up to a probable dumping spot somewhere within Boston.”

  “Sir,” Officer Finley spoke up. “Forgive me for asking, but why are we not even thinking about suicide? The briefing states there were no bruises and no signs of a struggle.”

  “I ruled that out almost right away when I saw that the victim was nude,” Avery said. “While suicide would usually be something to consider, it’s highly unlikely that Patty Dearborne stripped naked before jumping into the Charles River.”

  She almost hated to shoot Finley’s ideas down. She was watching him become a damn good officer week by week. He’d matured over the last year or so, morphing out of the frat-boy persona most people knew him by and into a hard-working officer.

  “But no bruises,” another officer said. “That seems to be a smoking gun.”

  “Or evidence that it was not suicide,” Avery argued. “If she jumped from any sort of height more than eight to ten feet, there would have been visible bruising on her body from the sheer impact.”

  “Forensics agrees with this,” Connelly said. “They’re going to be sending a more finalized report soon, but they feel pretty certain about this.” He then looked to Avery and gestured to the table with a sweeping of his hand. “What else do you have, Detective Black?”

  She took a moment to discuss the things she had pointed out to Connelly—details that were in the briefing. She mentioned the trimmed and polished nails, the lack of hair, and the absence of jewelry. “Another thing to point out,” she added, “is that a killer that would go to these lengths to make his victims presentable suggests either a skewed admiration for the victim or some sort of regret.”

  “R
egret?” Ramirez asked.

  “Yes. He dolled her up and made her as beautiful as possible because maybe he didn’t mean to kill her.”

  “Right down to shaving her…nether regions?” Finley asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And tell them why you think we’re dealing with a serial here, Black,” Connelly said.

  “Because even it if was a mistake, the fact that the killer did her nails and shaved her denotes patience. And when you add that to the fact that this woman was quite pretty and free of blemishes, it makes me think he’s drawn to beauty.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it,” someone else spoke up.

  “Which leads me back to the line of thought that maybe he didn’t mean to kill her.”

  “So you think it was like a date gone bad?” Finley asked.

  “We can’t be sure yet,” she said. “But my first reaction is no. If he was this deliberate and careful with the way she looked before dumping the body, I think he likely put that same kind of care into selecting her.”

  “Selecting her for what, Black?” Connelly asked.

  “I think that’s what we need to find out. Hopefully Forensics will have some answers to lead us down the right path.”

  “So what do we do until then?” Finley asked.

  “We bust our asses,” Avery said. “We dig as deep into Patty Dearborne’s life as we can, hoping to find some clue that will help us find this guy before he does it again.”

  When the meeting ended, Avery headed across the conference room to have a word with Ramirez. Someone needed to inform the parents of Patty Dearborne and she felt the need to do it. Speaking to grief-stricken parents, while incredibly difficult and emotionally draining, was usually one of the best places to find a lead right off the bat. She wanted Ramirez with her, wanting to keep working on the balance between their personal and professional lives. It was still tricky, but they were slowly getting the hang of it.

  Before she made it to him, though, O’Malley came into the room. He was speaking on the phone, clearly in a hurry. Whatever he was dealing with, it must have been pressing for him to have missed the meeting about the Patty Dearborne case. He stood by the door, waited until everyone except Avery, Ramirez, and Connelly were gone, and then closed the door. He ended his call with a quick and almost rude “Yeah, later,” and then took a deep breath.

  “Sorry I missed the meeting,” he said. “Anything big come up?”

  “No,” Connelly said. “We’ve got the woman ID’ed and now need to tell her family. We’re working on the assumption that whoever did this will do it again.”

  “Black, can you send me a quick report explaining the details?” O’Malley asked.

  “Yes sir,” she said. He never asked her for small things like that. She wondered if it was another of his not-so-subtle tests. She’d noticed him being more lenient with her over the last few weeks, more willing to give her more responsibility without interference. She was sure it all had to do with them asking her to take sergeant.

  “While both of you are here,” O’Malley said, looking at Avery and Ramirez, “I’d like to have a word. A few words, actually…and I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll make it quick. First…I’m totally fine with the two of you seeing one another outside of work. I thought long and hard about breaking you up here at the A1 but damn it…you work too well together. So as long as you two can tolerate the in-jokes and speculations, you’re going to remain partners. That good?”

  “Yes sir,” Ramirez said. Avery nodded in agreement.

  “The next thing…Black. The whole sergeant thing…I’m going to need a decision soon. As in, within forty-eight hours. I’ve tried to be patient, letting you work things out. But it’s been over two months now. I think that’s fair.”

  “It is fair,” she said. “I’ll let you know something by tomorrow.”

  Ramirez gave her a look of surprise. Truth be told, her response had surprised her, too. Deep down, though, she thought she knew what she wanted.

  “Now, on this lady-in-the-river case,” O’Malley said. “It’s officially yours, Black. Take Ramirez with you, but let’s keep it professional.”

  Avery was a bit embarrassed that she found herself blushing. Ah God, she thought. First a shopping spree and now blushing over a boy. What the hell has happened to me?

  To keep things rolling and not get thrown off of her game, Avery turned things directly back to the case. “I’d like to be the one to notify the family.”

  “We can delegate that to someone else,” Connelly suggested.

  “I know. But as terrible as it sounds, parents receiving such terrible news are usually the best resources for information. Everything is raw and open.”

  “My God, that’s pretty heartless,” Connelly said.

  “But effective,” O’Malley said. “Good deal, Black. It’s four fifty right now. With any luck, you’ll catch them getting off of work. I’ll make sure someone texts you the address within the next ten minutes. Now get to it. Dismissed.”

  Avery and Ramirez took their leave. Out in the hall, the nine-to-fivers were starting wrap up their day. But for Avery, the day was far from over. In fact, with the task of breaking the news of a young woman’s death to her parents on the horizon, Avery thought it was going to turn out to be one hell of a long night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Dearbornes lived in a quaint little house in Somerville. Avery read over the information that had been texted and emailed to her while Ramirez drove. Patty Dearborne had been a great student, in her senior year at BU with intentions of becoming a counselor for a behavioral health firm. Her mother, Wendy, was a trauma nurse who rotated through two different area hospitals. Patty’s father, Richard, was a business development manager for a large telecommunications company. They were a well-to-do family with not a single speck of dirt on their record.

  And Avery was about to tell them that their daughter was dead. Not only dead, but that she had been dumped into a frigid river completely nude.

  “So,” Ramirez said as he wound through the rustic little streets of the Somerville neighborhoods. “Are you going to take the sergeant gig?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said.

  “Any inkling?”

  She pondered this for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. It seems small in comparison to what we’re about to do.”

  “Hey, you volunteered for this,” he pointed out.

  “I know,” she said, still not certain why. Yes, her thoughts about getting a good lead were true, but she felt like there was something else. Patty Dearborne had only been three years older than Rose. It was far too easy to see Rose’s face on that frozen body. For some bizarre reason, it made Avery feel that she needed to break the news to the family. Maybe it was a maternal-based urge, but she felt that she owed it to the parents in some strange way.

  “So let me ask you this,” he said. “What makes you so sure this isn’t just a one-time thing? Maybe an ex-boyfriend just lost his shit. Maybe this is a one and done.”

  She grinned briefly because she knew he wasn’t arguing with her. Not really. She had noticed that he liked to get glimpses into how her mind worked. His rebuttal of her theories was simply a way to get her primed up.

  “Because based on what we know about the body, this guy was careful and meticulous. An enraged ex-boyfriend would not be so careful about not leaving bruises. The finger- and toenails are the clincher for me. Someone took their time with them. I’m hoping the parents will be able to provide more insight into the sort of woman Patty was. If we know more about her, we’ll know exactly how much of the primping was done by whoever dumped the body.”

  “Speaking of which,” Ramirez said, pointing ahead. “Here we are. You ready for this?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath. She loved her job but this was the one part she absolutely dreaded. “Yeah, let’s go,” she said.

  Before Ramirez had time to say another word, Avery o
pened the door and stepped out.

  She braced herself.

  ***

  Avery knew that no two people responded to grief in the exact same way. That’s why she was not all that surprised when, fifteen minutes later, Wendy Dearborne was nearly in a state of shock while Richard Dearborne was a loud and frantic mess. At one point, she feared he would become violent when he slapped at a vase on the kitchen table and sent it crashing to the floor.

  The weight of the news hung heavy in the room. Avery and Ramirez had remained quiet, speaking only when asked a question. In the silence, Avery saw two pictures of Patty in the living room; one was on the mantel above the fireplace and another was a canvas hanging on the far living room wall. Avery’s suspicion had been right. The girl had been absolutely stunning.

  Wendy and Richard were both sitting on the couch in the living room now. Wendy had gotten slight control of herself, letting out the occasional gut-wrenching sob as she lay against Richard’s shoulder.

  With tears streaming down his face, Richard looked at Avery. “Can we see her? When can we see her?”

  “Right now, Forensics is still trying to determine what might have happened to her. As you might imagine, the cold water and frigid temperatures make it harder to find clues or evidence. In the meantime, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you that may help us find answers.”

  Both of them wore looks of confusion and absolute horror on their faces but it was clear that Wendy would be no help. She was stunned into silence, taking the occasional look around the living room as if checking to make sure she knew where she was.

  “Of course, whatever questions you have,” Richard said. Avery thought the man was tough deep inside—perhaps trying to figure out some answers on his own.

  “I know it’s going to seem like a strange question,” Avery said. “But was Patty the sort of girl to get really intricate with grooming and fingernails? Things like that?”