He frowned.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, just trying to be empathetic. How are you feeling? I assume this must have been very difficult for you. The way I understand it, you and Cindy were in a long-term relationship. Two years, isn’t that right?”
“Great detective work,” he said sarcastically. “Cindy and I were over. Not officially, but in the past few months, it became painfully obvious that we were not meant to be together. We were moving in different directions. I was going to break up with her. So no, I wasn’t that broken up. It’s a terrible tragedy. I was upset when I heard what happened, but if you’re looking for tears, you came to the wrong place.”
“Wow,” Avery said. “It’s only been three days.”
“I’m sorry,” Winston snapped, “is there something I’m missing here? You come to my house, make me feel like I’m a suspect, question my relationship, and then try to make me feel guilty about my emotions? You might want to be careful with your words, Detective, or I’ll call my lawyer and make sure you’re put on a tighter leash.”
“Shut your fuckin’ mouth!” Finley yelled with a pointed finger.
Avery flashed him a look that said “you are not helping.”
Her phone rang.
“Black,” she said.
O’Malley was on the line.
“Stop whatever you’re doing,” he said in an urgent, soft-spoken tone. “Turn the car around and head over to Violet Path in the Mount Auburn Cemetery over in Watertown. Plug it into your phone and get there now. Ask for a detective named Ray Henley. He’s in charge. The cabin can wait.”
“What is it?” she asked.
There came a three-second pause.
“They just found another body.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mount Auburn Cemetery was a luxurious property of winding roads, lakes, and lush forests with gravestones strewn throughout.
A number of Watertown police cruisers, along with unmarked cars, an ambulance, and a forensics van, made it impossible to drive very far into Violet Path. Trees obscured most of the overhead sunlight. Multiple groups of onlookers and bikers craned their necks to see something just outside of Avery’s view. She parked at the bottom of a grassy knoll, just at the intersection of Walnut Avenue and Violet.
“Hey you,” a plainclothes cop shouted when she exited her car, “you can’t park there. Move that car. This is a crime scene.”
Avery flashed her badge.
“Avery Black,” she said, “Homicide. Boston PD.”
“You’re out of your jurisdiction, Boston. We don’t need you here. Go home.”
Avery smiled: reasonable and pleasant.
“I was told to contact Ray Henley?”
“Lieutenant Henley?” Suspicious, the officer grumbled, “Wait here.”
“What’s up his ass?” Finley interjected.
He stood right behind Avery, practically against her shoulder.
“Am I being punished?” she asked. “Is that why you’re here?”
“This is my big break, Black. You’re going to help me reach detective.”
“God have mercy on my soul.”
A lean, attractive man in slacks and a red plaid shirt came over the hill. He looked more like an outdoorsman than a detective; only the badge around his neck and the gun on his hip gave it away. He had a sunburned face and wavy brown hair. An aura of wellness and patience exuded from his being, and he smiled at Avery as if they knew each other.
“Detective Black.” He waved. “Thanks for coming.”
A strong hand gripped hers, and when he peered into her eyes, a calm feeling came over Avery, like she could sink into his arms and instantly be forgiven for all her sins.
An awkward pause followed.
“I’m Ray Henley?” he said.
“Right,” Avery replied, flustered, “sorry. I was told you found another body, similar to the one we discovered over in Lederman Park?”
Her immediate discussion of the case turned him off slightly, and he breathed a wistful sigh and rubbed his cheeks.
“Yeah,” he said, “come up and see for yourself.”
He updated her on the way.
“A runner found her this morning around six. For a second, she thought the girl was some kind of Satan worshiper from the way she was positioned. We believe her name is Tabitha Mitchell, an MIT junior that never showed up at her dorm last night. Her roommate called the police around two, and then again eight. Cambridge police would have normally waited forty-eight hours to post a picture but since she’s a connected college student, we caught a break.”
“What’s she doing out here?”
“I thought you could help us with that.”
The body was at the top of the knoll. Small gray tombstones marked the area. She was draped over a larger stone that resembled a chess piece pawn. He had once again done incredibly lifelike work. She was squatted and hugging the monument. Her cheek rested on the top. Eyes were open and there was a lasciviousness about her appearance. Red blush painted her cheeks. Some kind of glue had been sprayed on her forehead and hair tips to imitate sweat, and her mouth was puckered in a sense of breathlessness.
“She’s not wearing any undergarments,” Ray said.
Cindy Jenkins wore undergarments: panties and a bra. What does that mean? Avery wondered. Is the killer becoming bolder? Did she just leave the house that way?
Tabitha’s eyes were open and focused on something in the distance.
Avery tracked the line of sight to a bunch of white, short tombstones on an opposite, grassy decline.
“Finley,” she said, and inwardly bristled at his name, “write down whatever you see on those graves over there. Mark them down so I know which one’s first, second, third, got it? Then take a walk around the area. Serial killers usually return to the scene of the crime to get a cheap thrill. Maybe ours is still here.”
“A serial killer?” He beamed. “Oh wow. You got it, Black,” and he flashed her a can-do attitude and pointed a finger in her face to express seriousness.
“Is that your partner?” Ray asked.