“It’s not that funny,” she muttered. But inside she was pleased. She rarely came up with witty jokes, and this one was not only witty but shitty as well. She even groaned at her own rhyme. But she hopped to her feet, grabbed her jacket, opened her desk drawer, and gathered her things. Picking up her keys, she said, “Let’s go.”
Still chuckling, Rodney finished his coffee. “You know what? You are starting to fit in around here.”
“Why? Because I can add shitty jokes to the conversation?” she asked.
That set him off again, and she rolled her eyes and headed for the door. As they almost left the bullpen area, their sergeant walked in, looked at them in surprise, and asked, “Where are you two heading?”
“You know our victim found in the dumpster? We’re headed to her place of work, as well as that of her ex-boyfriend, who works in the same building,” Kate informed him, “to have a face-to-face talk.”
“Good enough.” Colby nodded. “I understand Dr. Smidge had something extra to add to this one.” His gaze went from one detective to the other.
Kate turned and looked at Rodney. “Did you really say something to the sergeant?”
He shrugged. “Hey, all is fair in love and war, and we live in the war zone more often than not.”
She turned back to the sergeant. “Dr. Smidge noted that he remembered a case—from about fifteen years ago—where the victim also died in a similar manner. The woman’s brother was convicted as a juvenile, held in juvie from before and after trial, and he was released about five years ago now, after serving ten years.” She shook her head as she tried to do the math. “He successfully completed all requirements of his probation and is currently on target with no problems. The parole officer believes his assertion that he was innocent.”
“Interesting, but it’s not like we haven’t heard that one million times before.”
“I know, and I do have the address for the family. I wanted to take a walk through the old house, which was the crime scene.”
“He killed her in the family home?”
“Well, that’s another part that doesn’t quite fit. Anyway, the building is currently slated for demolition, and I’ve got a call into the development board, asking for permission to do a walk-through.”
“That would be good,” Colby agreed, “although I don’t know what a crime scene from fifteen years ago would tell you.”
“What it might tell me is whether it was even doable. Both these women were tortured, sir. Wrists broken, ankles broken, one breast removed, vocal cords slashed to keep them quiet, and finally a knitting needle through the ribs into the heart after the breast was removed.”
He stared at her, shook his head, and frowned. “What a world full of sick people we live in.”
“Well, there are sick people in this world,” she agreed, “but I don’t know that the world is full of them though.”
“That’s hardly making me feel any better.” Colby waved them toward the elevator. “Go. Go get this one solved and out of my head. The last thing I want is to have a serial killer who’s done two of these murders on the loose.”
“Dr. Smidge did acknowledge that it’s possible there could have been others in the meantime.”
“In which case, the boy wouldn’t have committed the crimes, right?” He turned and looked at her.
“Possibly a copycat killing in another area to keep it low-key, so the kid didn’t get released.”
“That would be lovely,” he moaned. “What if the woman was killed to make it look like the kid did it?”
“That would be sick, sir.”
“Well, I’m going right back around to what I said to begin with. It is a sick world.” And, with that, he stormed down the hallway to his office.
Kate punched the button to the elevator, shoved her hands into her pockets, and rocked back on her heels.
“He’s got a point,” Rodney said.
“He might have a point,” she muttered, “but we need more than points. We need forensic evidence. We also need a motive. That was the one thing Dr. Smidge said was missing before.” She sighed. “That is a lot for a brother to do to a sister,” Kate noted. “I don’t care how much you think you hate her. When you think about it, you’ve spent a lot of time with her, shared meals, playtime, TV, holidays, vacations. You hear one getting berated by a parent. You hear the other getting smacked around. You hear about troubles at school. They’re all connections. So, even though you may hate somebody, it takes a deeper level of absolute madness to turn that hate into something so dark that you’re actually willing to torture somebody for hours and days before you finally kill them.”
She continued. “And that’s the problem with this case. I get that cutting the vocal cords provides a means to do this in any space. I mean, an apartment, a tiny room, or even a closet would probably be enough if you made it into a murder room. And that makes the location of the murder all that much more interesting.”
“Interesting?” Rodney asked, his voice rising.
She shrugged. “The kid’s bedroom? The kid sister’s bedroom? Like the victim’s room was maybe in the basement? Maybe the parents were in Europe for six weeks. I don’t know what to say, but that’s why I want to go see the house.”