Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(11)

“No, but I doubt they were as deep.” Frank shook his head. “Are you thinking someone did this to her before?”

“I don’t know what to think. What else can you tell me?”

“She didn’t die at the scene. Estimated time of death is Saturday between four p.m. and midnight. There’s no sign of sexual assault. She presents as an overdose, and the syringe found at the scene contained traces of heroin, but I’ll need the toxicology report to confirm cause of death. I’ll let you know when that comes in. Even without the results, I’m calling this a homicide based on the use of restraints, the torture, and the fact that she was dumped at the scene. This was clearly not an accidental death or a suicide.”

“Thanks.” Stella bolted from the ME’s office and into the fresh air of the parking lot. As she walked to the crime scene investigators’ offices in the same complex, she dug a mint from her purse and chewed it to obliterate the smell of death from her nostrils. She stopped at the forensic lab in the same complex and signed Missy’s now-charged cell phone out on the evidence log. There were only a few recent calls and no texts. Missy likely kept the phone for emergency use only. Stella had already requested the call detail records from Missy’s cell service provider.

Neither of Missy’s employers had been surprised to hear of her death. The fact that she hadn’t shown up for work Friday or Saturday had been enough to worry them. She’d been a hard-working, exemplary employee. Stella hadn’t found so much as a single disgruntled coworker. Missy paid her bills on time and managed to save a small portion of her pay each week. Her background check was equally unremarkable. No arrests either here or in California.

A call from Brody interrupted her thoughts. “We have a possible break-in and missing woman. Can you pick me up at the station?”

Brody was waiting outside when she pulled up. He slid into the passenger seat and gave her the address.

As she drove, she updated him with Missy’s autopsy results. “She was tortured and killed. Either we have a sadistic killer roaming Scarlet Falls or Missy made someone very angry.”

“So our simple overdose is a murder investigation.” Brody’s voice rang with surprise. “This is a good reminder not to make assumptions about a case.”

A few minutes later, Stella parked at the curb in front of a white bungalow on a quiet street on the outskirts of town. The houses on both sides sat close, but mature trees and a line of tall hedges created privacy. A potential intruder would be shielded from any neighbor’s sight.

They climbed out of the car and headed toward the front porch. In addition to the patrol car at the curb, two vehicles occupied the driveway: a powder-blue Prius and a red Infiniti sedan. The front door stood open. Stella went up the three steps onto the stoop. Cool air chilled her skin as she stepped over the threshold.

Patrol Officer Lance Kruger met them in the foyer. This was Lance’s first week back on the job after taking a bullet in the November shoot-out. Stella would never forget the sound of the bullet hitting his flesh or the sight of him pale, shaking, and bleeding out on the grass. She shuddered and blocked the memory to give him a quick once-over. He was a little leaner and buffer. She saw no sign of a limp as he crossed the foyer and gestured toward the stairs. Lots of physical therapy, he’d said.

“The mess is in the master bath. The missing woman’s name is Dena Miller, age thirty-two.” Lance lowered his voice as he offered them the crime scene log. “The husband called it in. Says he came home from the golf course and found the master bathroom trashed and his wife missing.”

Stella took the clipboard. The call had come into the 911 dispatcher at two fifty-six p.m. She checked her watch. It was now three forty-five.

“Where is the husband?” Stella signed the log and handed the clipboard to Brody.

“Adam Miller is in the kitchen.” Lance showed her a snapshot of a painfully thin woman with a head of short, dark curls. “Dena Miller. Five-six. Brown hair and eyes.”

In the photo, she was sitting behind a birthday cake, candles ablaze. The smile on her face was robotic, as if her birthday hadn’t been a happy one.

“Do you want to talk to him or check out the scene first?” Lance asked.

“We’ll have a look upstairs.” She pulled gloves from her pocket and headed for the stairway. She wanted to see the scene before any conversation with the husband affected her initial impressions. Brody followed her up the steps.

A floorboard creaked underfoot as they stepped onto the second-floor landing. The master bedroom was mid-sized, with off-white carpeting and a queen-size bed. A jewelry box occupied the center of a dark wood dresser. With a gloved fingertip, Brody lifted the lid. Metal and stones sparkled against navy-blue velvet.

“There’s an iPad on the nightstand, too.” Stella peered over his shoulder. “I’m no jeweler, but it looks like she has a few nice pieces. Those studs look like diamonds.”

“Definitely not a robbery.” Brody eased the lid closed.

Stella crossed the carpet to the entrance of the master bath. Blood spattered the tiles and walls. Gold-colored glass shards littered the tile floor, and the room reeked of perfume. The glass door to the shower was open. The hamper was overturned, and the bathmat shoved against the wall. But Stella’s gaze lingered on the crimson trail on the white tile.

“The blood drops are dry, but they look fresh.” The drops would darken as they aged due to oxidation of iron in the blood. “It couldn’t have happened too long before the husband called it in. Maybe she was showering when someone surprised her.” Stella let her gaze sweep the room. She suppressed a shudder as she imagined standing in the shower, naked, vulnerable. The shower door opening. Terror washing over her as she saw the stranger in her bathroom. She envisioned her wet feet slipping on the tile, perhaps gaining her footing for a few seconds and reaching for the vanity. A man grabbing her, dragging her toward the door.