A Killer's Mind (Zoe Bentley Mystery #1)(48)
The man hesitated for another second, and Mikey began to wonder if he had a reason to hesitate. Was this the man they were looking for? His flashlight turned toward the man, the beam of light illuminating his clothes. His shirt was stained with barbecue sauce or something. Mikey moved the light upward to the man’s face . . .
“Okay, Officer, it’s open. I’m really sorry for the mess.”
Mikey went over to the back, keeping an eye on the driver, who sat, both hands on the wheel, like he should. Mikey pulled the door open and cast the flashlight’s beam on the cargo area. It wasn’t that messy. Just a couple of plastic containers. One of them was on its side, and it seemed to have spilled on the cargo area’s bottom, leaving a large dark stain. Mikey shut the door and went over to the man.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Say, what’s this all about?”
“Just routine, sir.”
“Routine? You have the entire neighborhood blocked off. My girlfriend lives back there. Should I be concerned?”
Mikey sighed. The car behind this one honked. He felt very wet. “I’d tell her to stay inside tonight, sir. There’s a dangerous person on the loose. Now, please drive—you’re holding up traffic.”
The car drove off, and Mikey shook his head at the honking car behind them. That one looked angry and agitated. He would get the “light on face” treatment for sure.
CHAPTER 36
Just before midnight, Martinez answered a phone call. As he spoke, mostly in monosyllables, Zoe perceived his shoulder slumping, the hand holding the phone loosening, the color slowly draining from his face. Finally, he turned around, the phone still held in his hand, not bothering to return it to its cradle.
“The body of Lily Ramos was just found in an alley south of Chicago Avenue,” he said listlessly. “The ME is on the scene, and he hasn’t said anything definite yet, but her throat was slashed, and the body is drenched in blood, so I’d say that sounds like a cause of death.”
There was a long silence as the task force digested the information. The rest of the detectives had been summoned back and were all in the room.
“Are we sure it’s Lily?” Scott asked.
Zoe noticed how he asked if it was Lily. Not Lily Ramos. Not Ramos. In the past few hours, as they all did their best to find her and save her, the investigators in the task force and Lily had become close.
“She fits the description we have. Specifically, she has a tattoo of a black cat on her lower back just like Lily did.”
A tattoo. But hidden from sight. It still matched her assumptions. Zoe felt no sense of victory, only emptiness.
“Is she embalmed?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Martinez said shortly. “I’m going to the crime scene right now. Mel, I want you to come with me. Agent Gray, Dr. Bentley, if you want, you can ride with us too. Scott, I want you here talking to dispatch. I’ll get approval from the captain to keep the roadblocks and the helicopter up for half an hour more, so I want you to be our man in the situation room. I want the rest of you following in separate vehicles. This murder is fresh, meaning that the leads are fresh. We will probably split after reviewing the crime scene and start working those new leads.”
New leads. Fresh scene. On paper, the case had just received a considerable windfall. They’d have additional data to analyze. They knew the exact street where the killer had held . . . and probably killed the victim. The killer would be spooked, would be prone to make mistakes.
But just hours ago they had the victim alive, on the phone. Had been closing in on her location. If they had been faster, smarter, better, she would have survived. Perhaps they would have even had the killer behind bars.
They were one step closer to catching the killer. But the cost was too terrible.
The mood in the car was grim. Martinez and Mel sat in front, Tatum and Zoe in the backseat. Zoe thought about Lily. She had heard what were probably Lily’s last sounds. Trying desperately to save herself. Zoe knew very well how it felt to fear for your own life, to have a predator in the next room.
To know that help might be on its way . . . but probably not.
Zoe, open the door. Can’t stay in there forever, Zoe.
She shivered.
“Are you okay?” Tatum asked. There was something soft in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Or maybe she was just looking for something she needed.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just some unpleasant memories.”
CHAPTER 37
Maynard, Massachusetts, Monday, December 15, 1997
The sound of her alarm clock buzzing made Zoe jump in her bed. Her heart beat wildly, and she looked around her in confusion, getting her bearings. She had given up on falling asleep altogether the night before, but apparently, just before dawn, sleep had finally caught up with her.
Andrea was already gone, which was strange. Andrea usually didn’t get out of bed on school mornings before their mother physically pulled her out. But mom hadn’t woken Zoe up. Why?
She got up and waited for a moment as a spell of dizziness hit her. She had slept no more than an hour the night before. Once she felt steady enough, she plodded to the kitchen, where Andrea was prattling, an untouched cereal bowl in front of her. Their mother was at the counter, staring at two slices of dry toast that had popped out of the toaster.