Cause to Kill

“No,” she insisted.

Once again, he tried to start a conversation.

“Saw you in the paper a couple of days ago.” He smiled. “And,” he emphasized, slightly embarrassed, “I saw you in a lot of papers a few years ago.”

His implication wasn’t clear until Avery glanced at him and realized: He’s flirting.

It was hard for her to do anything in front of a dead body except analyze what happened and try to piece together the puzzle. She wondered if that was some kind of mechanical flaw born from her past guilt and torment, but then she remembered she’d always been that way, even as an attorney: focused, relentless, and eager to find the connections that would lead to success. Now, the only difference was that those connections weren’t just ways to get her clients off – they were ways to stop murderers.

Ray sensed her discomfort and changed the subject.

“You think this is your guy?”

Avery cleared her throat.

“Absolutely,” she said. “This is his work.”

“Well then,” he sighed, “I’ll share whatever we have. We don’t get many crime scenes like this in Watertown. And, if you like, we can even have the body sent to your lab and you can take things over from there. You OK with that?”

“Of course,” she said, genuinely appreciative. “That would be great.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he added with a smile, “I’m not just a nice guy. Truth be told? I’m a little OCD when it comes to sharing. It makes my skin crawl trying to imagine two sets of paperwork on something this important, and timely.”

“Still,” she offered, “thank you.”

He held her look for as long as possible; Avery blushed and turned away, excited by the attention but eager to get back to work. Thankfully, another officer flagged him down.

“Lieutenant, we have a situation over here.”

“Be right back,” Ray said.

The cemetery was peaceful, calming, just like the area where Cindy Jenkins was placed in Lederman Park. Why? Avery wondered. What’s the significance of parks? Mentally, she checked off avenues to pursue: Was Tabitha a sorority girl like Cindy? She’s a junior, and half Asian. So the killer can’t be hunting down seniors, or specifically white girls. Cindy came from an established family. What about Tabitha? They were both abducted from Cambridge. Why? Is that where the killer lives? Where was Tabitha last seen? Who saw her alive? Can we get surveillance? The list seemed endless.

What do we know? she pushed.

Nothing, she mentally replied. We know absolutely nothing.

No, she rallied, we know something: the relative size and shape of the killer, his ethnicity, MO, and the specific drugs he used. Ramirez was compiling a list of hallucinogenic plant suppliers, as well as car dealerships and Internet sites that sold Chrysler blue minivans. We can pursue those leads. We can also share the killer’s sketch with Cambridge police. See if there’s a match. We can also try to track that minivan from Lederman.

I just need more people, she thought. And not Finley.

Police sirens blared.

Cops spun into action.

“We got a runner! We got a runner!”

Farther off, on another path visible from her position, a black car, maybe a Mustang, revved up and burned smoke out of the cemetery. Ray was below shouting orders. Two police officers and a photographer around the body perked up and started to head toward the action.

“No, no,” Avery called and pointed. “You stay here. Someone has to guard the body.”

Finley, she thought. Where is Finley?

Her walkie-talkie buzzed to life.

“Hey, Black,” came Finley’s voice, “we got him! I got him!”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“I’m in a Watertown police cruiser with – hey, what’s your name,” he said to someone. “Shut up, man!” came a different voice. “I’m trying to drive!” “I don’t know,” Finley added, “some cop. We’re the first ones out. Following a black Mustang. Heading northwest out of the cemetery. Hop in that pretty white pony of yours and back us up. We got him!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Avery jumped in her car and stuck a siren on the roof. The red light whirled. Her walkie-talkie, a new model as sleek and small as a cell phone, was thrown aside. Instead, she turned on the car transreceiver and clicked the frequency she’d been assigned to Finley.

The car started. A backup curve and she hit the pedal and peeled forward out onto Walnut Avenue. The paths in the cemetery were a maze-like jumble. Through distant trees, she caught the tail end of a police cruiser. She abandoned the road and jumped onto the grass. Shit, she thought, I’m going to get into trouble for this. Headstones were avoided. The car turned onto another paved road and she was behind a pack of police vehicles.

Avery followed the chase out of the cemetery and onto Mt. Auburn Street. She narrowly avoided two cars. A crash resounded behind her. The line of red and blue police lights shifted onto Belmont Street.

Avery picked up her transreceiver mouthpiece.

“Finley,” she called, “where are you?”

“Oh man,” Finley replied, “you guys are way behind. We’re ahead of everybody. This is great. We’re going to catch this son of a bitch.”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“On Belmont, just past Oxford. No wait. He’s turning onto Marlboro Street.”

Avery checked her speedometer. Sixty-five…seventy. Belmont went in two directions. Her side was a one-lane street with enough room to slip by any slow cars on the right. Thankfully, all the police cruisers had already diverted traffic. She caught up to the last car.

“Made a left on Unity Avenue now,” Finley called.

The line of police turned right on Marlboro and then made a quick left.

“We stopped. We stopped,” Finley cried. “I’m out of the car. Mustang on the lawn of a small brown house, left side. Heading into the house.”

“Don’t go into the house!” Avery shouted. “Do you hear me? Do not go in!”

The line went silent.

“Shit,” she said aloud.

All the police cars had converged on a single brown two-story house with a short lawn and no trees. The Mustang had nearly smashed into the front staircase. The police cruiser beside it, Avery assumed, had been the one with Finley inside.

Avery hopped out and pulled the Glock out from her shoulder strap. Other officers had their weapons drawn. No one seemed to know what was happening.

“Is this our guy?” Henley called out.