Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(4)

She turned in a circle. “The back of the dugout shielded her from view of the street or parking lot.”

Frank came around the dugout and stood next to Stella. He put on gloves as he scanned the scene. “What do we know?”

“Little League coach found her about an hour ago.” Stella gave him a summary while the forensic photographer snapped long-range, medium, and close-up shots from varying angles. When the photographs were complete, Frank moved closer. He lifted the victim’s hair. Bruises trailed down the left side of her face. “Insects have been busy, and it looks like someone used her as a punching bag.”

Stella’s legs weakened as she studied the women’s face.

It couldn’t be.

Brody touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Even with the bruising and insect activity, the woman looked familiar. Too familiar.

Stella’s stomach did a slow tumble. “I think I know her.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

Hoping she was wrong, Stella moved toward the woman’s purse. With unsteady, gloved hands, she drew the zipper, pulled out a wallet, and opened it to view the woman’s driver’s license. Shock slid over her in a clammy wave. “Her name is Missy Green. We graduated high school together.”

“She was a friend?” Brody asked.

“Yes, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Stella noted her address was not the house where her parents had lived, but then, not many people still lived at home at thirty. Except Stella. “There’s thirty dollars cash in here, so she wasn’t robbed.”

“Is there a cell phone in her purse?” Brody asked.

Stella looked past the usual tissues, tampons, and lipstick and found a cheap cell. “Yes. Battery’s dead.”

“No obvious cause of death on initial inspection.” Frank lifted the woman’s arm. The limb moved with no resistance. “Rigor’s come and gone.” His gaze moved over the dugout. “The heat and moisture would have accelerated decomposition.” He frowned at the body. “She’s been dead at least thirty-six hours.” Frank tapped his assistant on the arm. “I doubt she’s been dead longer than three days, but I want live and dead maggots just in case.”

Stella breathed. The bugs always got to her.

Brody leaned close to her ear. “You can step away if you need to.”

She shook her head. “This is a small town. It isn’t the first time I’ve encountered someone I know.” Sadness clogged her throat as she corrected herself. “Knew.”

“Considering the hypodermic, overdose is a definite possibility,” Frank said.

“Did you look for track marks?” Stella asked.

“Her sleeves are snug. I don’t want to disturb her hands until after I’ve scraped under her nails.” Frank stepped back. “Not sure when I’ll get to her autopsy. We’re tied up with multiple victims from that residential house fire. I’ll call you.” Frank stood and signaled to his assistant.

“What do you think?” Brody asked, stepping back as the morgue assistant wheeled a gurney to the dugout. Arranging a white evidence sheet inside the black body bag, he and Frank transferred the body. Stella flinched as the bag closed over Missy’s face with a final zip.

Poor Missy.

“The needle indicates drugs, but someone beat her.” Stella turned back toward her car.

Brody fell into step beside her. “Drugs and violence often go hand-in-hand.”

“They do.”

Reporters swarmed her as she ducked under the crime scene tape. She raised a hand to block the microphone shoved in her face.

“Detective Dane, are you handling this case?”

She breathed through her first instinct, which was to tell the reporter to go away. Police Chief Horner was adamant about polite press-police relations. As long as Stella worked for the Scarlet Falls PD, she had to give the press her attention and company manners. “I’ll be working on this case, along with the rest of the Scarlet Falls Police Department.”

“What can you tell us about the victim?” Another reporter waved his mic at her. “How did she die?”

Stella leaned closer to a mic. “Cause of death will be determined by the medical examiner.”

“Can you identify the body?”

“The deceased’s identity will be publicized after next of kin are notified,” Stella said.

The shouts continued. “What can you tell us about the death? Was it murder?”

Stella held up her hand. “We’re just beginning our investigation. It’s too early for any assumptions. We’ll issue updates as information becomes available. Now you’ll have to excuse me.” Stella threaded her way through the throng to her vehicle. But the reporters’ questions hit home. She knew nothing about Missy’s adult life.

Stella and Brody got into the car, and she drove to the address listed on Missy’s driver’s license. Parking at the curb, she surveyed the one-story, gray house. “A 2004 blue Toyota Corolla is registered to Missy Green. I don’t see it here.”

“It wasn’t at the baseball field either.” Brody climbed out of the car.

“So how did she get there?” Stella followed him to the sidewalk.

Missy had lived in an apartment behind the house. Painted to match the house in front, the small unit appeared to be a converted workshop or storage building. A single cement step led to a tiny stoop and front door. They climbed the step, and Stella knocked. No one answered. Covering her eyes, she peered through the glass panes in the door.