The Killer in Me Page 3

  The ME shook her head, stray wisps of her shiny black hair flaring out from the taut ponytail. “Sorry. With the damage done by the roll down the ravine, and traces of animal activity, I can’t tell a thing. It’s going to take a full autopsy to get any ideas.”

  “I didn’t notice any animal activity.”

  Olivia smiled. “That’s because you’re not trained to see it.” She pointed at the crows still hovering about. “I found places where they had clawed at the victim’s face.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.” Olivia tucked a flyaway behind her ear. “Your newest deputy was just telling me that she has a lot of experience in this area. Chicago homicide, you said?”

  “I did,” Dayne answered.

  “Interesting.”

  Elizabeth shifted around the two women, studying Deputy Lundquist as he methodically circled the trees behind the victim. “Are you releasing the body?”

  “I am,” Olivia said. “The basket to get her out of here should be coming down the ravine soon.”

  Elizabeth looked at the blond-tipped woman. “Deputy Dayne, that is Deputy Lundquist. He’s a good man to give you details if you need them.”

  With a nod, Dayne approached the scene, her steps slow and measured.

  Olivia came to stand shoulder to shoulder with Elizabeth. “She’s got a story, doesn’t she?”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Ellie, you always seem to attract the strays.”

  Didn’t she know it. One particular stray had an ego the size of Mount Olympus.

  “When do you plan to do the autopsy?”

  Removing the blue surgical gloves by rolling one inside the other, Olivia tucked the pair into a special evidence bag she withdrew from a velcroid breast pocket of her blue-gray plaid work shirt. “As soon as I can. My morning is booked with appointments, and I have rounds at the hospital this afternoon. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  “Mind if I send my new deputy in my stead?”

  Olivia frowned. “I don’t see why it would be a problem. But isn’t this your responsibility?”

  It was her responsibility. As part of her duties as sheriff, Elizabeth had to oversee all points of the investigation. But she had other duties as well that couldn’t be put off any longer.

  “I have a meeting later today that can’t be rescheduled. I’ve already done so the last two times, and the recipient is none too happy with the rainchecks. I was not expecting a homicide today. Deputy Dayne has the experience, and I’ve got to rely on her expertise.”

  “I understand that. Once I know when I plan to do the autopsy, I’ll pass the word along.”

  “Thank you. If I can make it, I’ll let you know then.”

  They stood in silence, observing the activities of the two deputies.

  “Ellie, I didn’t recognize the girl,” Olivia said softly.

  “I know. We’ll need to reach out to the public to see if there are any hits on her identity.”

  “Who are going to put in charge of fielding all those phone calls?”

  Elizabeth’s radio crackled an incoming message. “I have an idea.”

  *

  Lila crouched near the young woman’s body, taking in the scene a piece at a time, every sense alert, doing her damnedest to not flash back to the last homicide, her downfall.

  A prickle of awareness crawled up the back of her neck. The other deputy was looking at her.

  Rolling her shoulders, she dispelled the sensation. Focus.

  She pinched the edge of the flannel shirt with gloved fingers and lifted the corner. Lila hadn’t asked for the medical examiner’s opinion or her observations; she needed a clean slate to assess the body’s condition and the state of the scene. Conjecture had no place in this investigation, because conjecture only created problems.

  The black tank under the plaid shirt had tears and fabric missing, either from the roll down or prior to it. Through a few of the wider rips, Lila spotted cuts, the blood crusted and browned. A sick sensation roiled through her stomach. Had this poor woman been alive when she was thrown over the edge?

  “Who are you?”

  Jolting, Lila rotated on the balls of her feet and met the cold blue-green eyes. Like his counterpart above the ravine, Lundquist sported a neatly trimmed beard; unlike Fitzgerald, it looked better on him. But it was the piercing stare that set off Lila’s warning alarms. This man could see too far into the soul. She wouldn’t dare put her back to him again.

  “I’m the new deputy.”

  With a cock of his head, he sniffed. “The sheriff didn’t say anything about a new deputy.”

  “You’ll have to bring that up with her. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue my work.”

  “And what work would that be?”

  Giving him a canine-baring grin, she lifted a shoulder. “What every homicide investigator does: assess, process, and proceed.”

  His features hardened, but he kept his peace and resumed his work.

  Assured he would not hinder her duties, Lila returned her attention to the victim. Mentally processing what she could, Lila pushed off her knees to her full height. Blowing the bleached, wavy strands from her face, she rotated to look downhill. The body’s descent had been stopped by the squat juniper perched on a level area of the ravine. Had it not, by her guess, the momentum of the rolling the body would have gained going down the side of the cliff. It would have gone right over the flat ground, and on down the hill. To what?

  Leaving her post, Lila carefully inched forward to the rounded curve of dirt and grass, planting a booted foot on a fat boulder protruding from the earth. Below was another steep hill of rocks and nearly bare ground that ended in a swollen and fast-moving stream. Had the victim fallen farther, she would have landed in the water, possibly carried away by the current. Most certainly left for the scavenging animals to pick her bones clean, stringing parts of her all over the timbered area for no one to see.

  She was not meant to be found.

  “Deputy Dayne?”

  Lila buried her fists deep into the jacket pockets as the sheriff joined her.

  “Your thoughts?”

  “Merely impressions at this point. I’d rather gather more details before I say anything.”

  Sheriff Benoit made a noise of satisfaction low in her throat.

  “Might I ask one thing?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Do you know the victim?”

  The faded sounds of men talking above and the arrival of yet another vehicle merged with the whisper of wind through the boughs around them. Sheriff Benoit stared down the hill, tense lines deepening her crow’s feet.

  “We do not,” she said after a moment, her darkened eyes turning to Lila. “I’m afraid this case might be far from cut and dried.”

  Lila’s pulse thundered, adrenaline surging through her veins. That old quickening fluttered in her chest, the feeling she missed about being an investigator. The hunt. The thrill of the chase. Finding a killer who wanted to remain in the shadows, free from the law’s long arm. All these sensations had been stripped from her in the weeks following the end of her career in Chicago.

  “That’s fine,” she heard herself say. “I like it when they play hard to get.”

  Chapter Four

  Once their Jane Doe had been properly handled and sent to the morgue, and the deputies had finished processing the scene, Elizabeth drove Dayne back to the courthouse. After delegating duties, Elizabeth finished off her cooled morning coffee, and, with Bentley at her side, was about to head out once more. Mrs. McKinnley awaited.

  “Sheriff.” Deputy Dayne’s voice echoed in the hallowed courthouse halls.

  Pausing next to the exit, Elizabeth faced her newest addition. “Formality is a bit of a dinosaur here in Juniper. You can call me Elizabeth.”

  “Not all of your deputies seem to hold to that idea.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “One day that will change. What can I help you with?”

&nbs
p; “I’d like to come with you.”

  Blinking, she cocked her head and regarded Lila Dayne. The shortened hair was pushed back from her heart-shaped face, and then left to fall in place.

  “I know you want me to stay and familiarize myself with the department and how it runs, but I’d get a better feel of things if I just rode with you.” She dipped her chin, peering at Elizabeth with her light brown eyes. “The residents of Eckardt County would be more comfortable with me if I am seen with you.”

  “That’s true.” Elizabeth took in the quiet street littered with fallen leaves from the three maples dotting the dormant Kentucky bluegrass yard. A blue sedan crawled along the street. “We are a wary lot to outsiders and immigrants.”

  “And what constitutes as an outsider?”

  Elizabeth pointed at Lila. “You. Don’t be surprised if the residents around here start off disregarding you in favor of a son or daughter of Eckardt. And I warn you, do not take offense to it.”

  Opening the door for Bentley to snake-pipe through, Elizabeth gestured for Dayne to follow and exited.

  All three settled in Elizabeth’s Ford. She backed out of the parking lot, pointed the fat nose of the SUV in the right direction, and drove out of town. Deputy Dayne spent a considerable amount of time studying the streets.

  “Why did you decide to run for sheriff?” she asked ten minutes into the trip.

  Flicking on her blinker, Elizabeth slowed the Ford to a full stop at the intersection she wanted, waiting for a tractor hauling two grain wagons loaded with soybeans to pass. She waved at the farmer and was rewarded with the obligatory Iowa one-hand lift. Once the second wagon cleared, she turned.

  “The crime rate isn’t as high as say Chicago’s, but in the last twenty years or more there has been an alarming uptick in activity. I spent a lot of time researching this during my campaign.”

  “Any reason for this?”

  “I have my suspicions but no concrete proof. As of late, it hasn’t been my focus. Cleaning up the department budget and squaring off against some egomaniacs who seem to think money can be better spent elsewhere have taken my full attention.”

  Dayne fell silent.

  As she tooled along, Elizabeth met three semis, two coming back from the grain storage facilities and one on its way there. The start to the crop year hadn’t gone well for the farmers. Between the late planting due to winter’s long grip and the weeklong rains that had drowned the freshly sprouted seedlings, and then replanting when the fields dried out, the farmers were scrambling. They were already into the first of December, and so many of the fields had yet to be harvested. Luckily, the Farmers’ Almanac was calling for a delayed winter. As long as that held true, things would work out.

  “Where is it you’re headed?” Dayne asked as they passed by huge grain storage bins.

  “Three Points, the only other town big enough to have an actual mayor.”

  “And what is your reason for coming out here?”

  Elizabeth had certainly chosen the right woman for this position. “A disturbance call.”

  “This land goes on forever,” Dayne muttered after a brief bout of reticence.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but in my many travels, I seem to remember a lot of crop ground in Illinois.”

  Dayne frowned, staring at the flat, fertile fields, some bare, some with still-standing, dried yellow stalks. “Yeah, but it’s nothing like this.”

  “No, I guess it isn’t, since Iowa is the second leading state in crop production.”

  The new deputy frowned at her. “And I need to know that why?”

  “Because, Deputy Dayne, you are now in the agricultural heartbeat of America and the world, but I digress. If you want to learn and get to know the people who live here, you need to speak their language. Eckardt County is a farming community. Main topics of conversation okay to discuss.” Elizabeth held up her hand and counted off. “Weather, how the grands are doing, and what new recipe you discovered. Topics off-limits: politics, religion, and what new ailment your doctor told you about.”

  At that precise moment they passed a large swine confinement facility that sat about two hundred yards off the main road and was surrounded by a thick stand of fast-growing poplar trees.

  “And that right there is the reason Iowa leads the nation in pork.”

  Dayne sighed. “I think I’ll stick to solving murders.”

  Biting back the humor twitching at her lips, Elizabeth lifted her chin at the large wooden sign painted blue, green, and gold that announced: Welcome to Three Points, Home of the Fighting Militia.

  “Here we are.”

  She bypassed the town’s main street and skirted the perimeter to meet with a narrow road that was more seal-coated gravel than pavement. Elizabeth kept the SUV to a slow crawl. A meticulous lawn bordered by a white-painted fence came into view, meeting at the drive with two wrought-iron gates topped with old-fashioned gas lamps. The gates were swung back to allow entry. Off in the distance, through a stand of trees and a tangle of brush dividing the property lines, visitors could make out the outline of what was once a stately Queen Anne home. The ruins were a constant complaint of the resident in the home at the end of the lane Elizabeth drove along.

  “Wow,” Dayne whispered.

  Indeed. The elongated, single-story, brick ranch could be considered a showy house, but the woman living among the bright red walls and white trim was completely the opposite. Mrs. Neva McKinnley, English and British literature teacher-extraordinaire, had never been accused of being flashy or showy. She epitomized her generation as the prim and proper schoolmarm who, after retirement, took up gardening and caring for her ailing husband. Clark McKinnley had passed away eight years ago after a long battle with Parkinson’s. Deep in the heart of Germany, Elizabeth had mailed a condolence card to her once-favorite teacher.

  Parking her SUV in front of the garage, Elizabeth exited with Bentley hot on her heels. Dayne closed the passenger door with a clap.

  “This place looks like it belongs in Better Homes and Gardens.”

  Lifting a shoulder, Elizabeth grinned. “I think a neighbor tried to get her to submit pictures to the magazine, but Mrs. McKinnley isn’t in to putting on airs, so she claims.” She paused at the bottom of the steps. “Two things. One”—she held up a finger—“she likes to entertain, so do not turn down her hospitality. And two”—second finger went up—“for a retired English teacher, she can put the best lawyer to shame when she cross-examines, so be on alert.”

  “Got it.”

  Bentley waited next to the door, her gaze zeroed in on the handle. Elizabeth pressed the doorbell. Their wait was short. A gauzy curtain fluttered to the left, and then the door swung open.

  “Sheriff, so good of you to come. And you brought your sweet pup.” Neva McKinnley bowed, her hands cupped Bentley’s face, and she lavished the collie with love, then produced the expected treat. Lapping up her reward, Bentley licked the age-spotted hand and then squeezed between Elizabeth’s and Dayne’s legs to have run of the yard.

  Sharp hazel eyes pierced the two women through a pair of spectacles. “Shall we?” She stepped aside.

  Elizabeth leading the way, the two entered the McKinnley home, greeted by the aroma of yeast and cinnamon. Dayne closed her eyes, and her chest rose and fell. With a smile, Elizabeth followed the retired teacher down the hall to her kitchen.

  “Mrs. McKinnley, I’d like you to meet my newest deputy, Lila Dayne.”

  Neva McKinnley stopped, turned, and examined the woman at Elizabeth’s side. A purse of her lips preceded a nod of approval before Neva continued into the heartbeat of her home.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee and a sticky roll?”

  “Love to,” Dayne interjected before Elizabeth could answer.

  Another nod of approval, the elder McKinnley headed for the coffeepot.

  Dayne leaned closer to Elizabeth. “What’s a sticky roll?”

  “Heaven with pecans.” She pointed at the kitchen tab
le. “Have a seat, Deputy. Let me help you with those, Mrs. McKinnley.”

  Two fat rolls slathered in gooey goodness were plated on the guest china, and two delicate cups of steaming coffee placed on the table. Neva sat along with Elizabeth at the table. The teacher watched the deputy fork in a bite of the roll and smiled that all-knowing smile behind her cup as Dayne’s face melted into sheer pleasure.

  “Now, Mrs. McKinnley, I received your complaint regarding the noise you heard at the old Barrett place. Can you describe what it was you heard?”

  “I can tell you down to the fine details. As you know, it was unusually still last night, and the sounds carried perfectly through the trees.”

  “How far is your home from this Barrett place?” Dayne asked.

  Frowning, Neva glared at the younger woman.

  Dayne’s gaze flicked to Elizabeth. Giving her new deputy a shake of her head, she gathered Mrs. McKinnley’s attention once more.

  “Go on.”

  “For your information, it’s a good four hundred yards from here to there. I had my bedroom window open since the weather was so glorious yesterday. The noises I heard coming from that place made my skin crawl. It sounded like someone was trying to scream and laugh at the same time. I also heard sounds like wood splintering. I got up to close my window to stop the awful racket, and the last thing I heard was a low grumble like one of those all-terrain vehicles.” She set her cup down and stared right into Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’m telling you, those wicked teenagers in town are using that abandoned place for their illicit affairs, and probably destroying that monstrosity in the interim. Mark my words, someone will end up dead in there soon enough.”

  “Have you heard anything like that before last night?” Dayne interjected.

  Elizabeth bit her lip before the smile popped up. The elder McKinnley, however, didn’t look so favorable upon the deputy.

  “You’re new around here.”

  In an apparent bid to save herself from the scrutinizing stare of a drill instructor teacher, Dayne shoveled another forkful of sticky bun in her mouth.

  “Yes, my deputy is new.”

  “She’s got that Chicago nasal going on. Is that where you are from? Chicago?”