Damaged Goods (Don't Call Me Hero Book 2) (29 page)

“Usually we work on multiple files at a time so we don’t exhaust the division’s resources on a case that could turn into another dead end. Most of the time it’s a new tip or clue that leads us back to an old case, like someone coming forward offering new evidence.”

“What are you working on right now?”

Stanley Harris gestured to the long wooden table in the center of the room. Glossy photographs, file folders, and open archival boxes were spread across its surface. “Unsolved homicide. Body of a Jane Doe was dumped at an area hospital—no ID, no identifiable markings.”

“No prints or dental records in the system?” I asked.

“Nope. And she doesn’t match any missing persons reports either.”

“May I?” I asked, gesturing to one of the black and white photographs.

Stanley nodded. “Go ahead.”

I picked up an image of a close-up of the dead woman’s face. Her eyes were closed. Her skin was pale, almost blue in tint. In life she had probably been stunning. High, carved cheekbones, fair skin, and dark hair.

“Cause of death?” I asked.

“The coroner’s report indicates a lethal amount of botulinum toxin in her system.”

“Poison?” I guessed. I had no background in forensics, but the word ‘toxin’ had given me a clue.

Stanley Harris nodded. “It’s most commonly used in cosmetic procedures—Botox,” he explained, “but if ingested, it can be lethal.”

“Not the kind of thing you accidentally eat, I’m guessing.”

“Nope.”

“Jane Doe,” I murmured aloud in thought. “So no one’s come forward to claim the body?”

Stanley shook his head. “Kind of the ultimate insult, huh? You get killed and no one even notices. No one reports that you’re gone.”

I set the graphic photograph back on the table. That old adage—a photograph is worth a thousand words—had always bugged me. Photographs were inadequate. They left out the stench of decomposition and the hysterical cries of loved ones who’d found the body. They left out the sound of a coroner breaking down the body—cracking any bones in full
rigor mortis
to get the body into a normal position.

“Are most cases like this?” I asked.

“Not really. Usually we’ve got someone chirping in our ear to solve the case—family, friends. It’s not typical that a body goes unclaimed for this long.”

“So why spend so much time on this case?” I posed.

“I dunno. If I were murdered I’d want someone to notice, wouldn’t you?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his creased khakis and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Sometimes I feel like we’re the only ones fighting for the John and the Jane Doe’s of the world. Someone’s got to care. Someone’s got to be in their corner when no one else steps up.”

“That’s quite the pretty speech,” I noted wryly.

“I may have said it a few times,” Stanley shrugged.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

As city prosecutor, Julia’s old office in Embarrass had been located on the second floor of City Hall, the most prominent building in town. As a public defender, her new office building better resembled a dentist’s office in a strip mall. I had driven by the cream brick building many times on my way to and from work, but I’d never been inside. It hadn’t passed my notice that Julia herself had never offered a tour of the place either.

The front plate glass window was professionally painted with the name of the public defenders’ group. The glow from the empty waiting room spilled out onto the concrete sidewalk in front of the building. It was after formal office hours, but Julia’s black Mercedes was still parked in the adjacent lot. It was out of place in the transitioning neighborhood, but that was much like Julia herself. I’d always seen her as above the company she kept, myself included.

I was met by a young woman at the front door who appeared to be locking up for the night.

“Excuse me,” I called out to garner her attention.

I unintentionally startled her, and she dropped her keys on the concrete. I bent and retrieved them from the ground before she could and returned them to her hands.

“Thank you,” she said. She was a few inches shorter than me with light makeup and pink lips. She wore her brunette hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her ballet flats, skirt, and blouse were less expensive-looking than the clothes Julia typically wore to work, but still formal. She was cute, probably in her early twenties, recently out of college if I had to guess.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I was just wondering if Julia was still in there.”

“Ms. Desjardin is meeting with a client,” I was informed.

Of course
Julia would make her co-workers refer to her with such formality.

“Do you have an appointment?” The young woman regarded me with clear curiosity.

“No, I’m not a client,” I clarified. “I’m her …” I stopped myself. I couldn’t finish my sentence for two reasons. I had no idea if Julia was Out at work, and we’d never explicitly had a conversation about defining or labeling our relationship.

“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed. “Are you Cassidy?”

“I—uh—yeah. I am.” Her question stunned me. “How did you know?”

“She said you were a cop.” She pointed to my police-issued duffle bag—the one that contained my wet clothes from the gym. I had locks on my motorcycle’s saddlebags, but I never liked to leave my things on my bike, just in case.

“I’m Alice,” she introduced herself.

We shook hands in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Alice,” I said. “Are you a public defender, too?” She looked a little young, but I had no idea how old lawyers typically were.

“Me? God, no. I’m just the receptionist. Did you want to go in and say hi?”

I held up my hands. “Not if she’s with a client. I don’t want to interrupt.

“It’ll be okay,” Alice insisted. She unlocked the main office door and pulled it open. “I’m sure she’d love to see you. Her office is the last door on the right.”

The scent of burned coffee and lingering cigarette smoke greeted my nostrils when I entered through the main door. I heard a lock latch as Alice locked the door from the outside again.

The waiting room surprised me, not that I’d ever really thought about what it might look like. Hard, plastic chairs lined the perimeter of the room. Outdated popular magazines were piled on end tables positioned between every third chair. The tan carpeting was thread-barren with small loops that stuck up where it had been snagged over the years. The walls had once been white but were now yellowed.  There was a corner dedicated to entertaining small children—an even smaller set of table and chairs with coloring books and broken crayons.

It was utterly depressing. I couldn’t imagine how Julia managed to come to work every day.

I went down a short hallway as Alice had instructed. At the end of the hall was a door that was slightly ajar. I waited for a moment out in the hallway, just listening, but I heard no noises. I lightly rapped my knuckles on the door. It was hollow, plywood, cheap construction like everything else I’d seen in the office.

“Yes, Alice?” I heard Julia’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Guess again,” I announced, pushing the door fully open.

Julia stood in the center of her office, overlooking a stack of documents laid across her desk. In addition to the wooden desk, her office was furnished with an office chair, metal filing cabinets, and two of the plastic chairs from the waiting room as extra seating.

She looked out of place in the dilapidated, secondhand surroundings. Her makeup was crisp, not a hair out of place. The black blouse tucked into a grey pencil skirt was understated, but still nicer than anything in the room.

“Cassidy. This is a surprise.”

“A nice surprise, I hope?”

“Naturally.”

Perched on her hip was a small child, no older than two years old. He shared the same olive skin tone as Julia with round cheeks, dark ringlets, and dark, serious eyes. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought they were mother and child.

“Who’s the kid?” I asked.

Julia looked to the small boy whose arms hung loose around her neck. “This is Antonio. His mother is in the bathroom,” she explained. “He gets fussy if he’s not being held.”

“I understand your pain, buddy.”

Julia craned her neck in the direction of the open office door. “What happened to Alice?”

“She was locking up for the night when I got here.”

“And you somehow managed to charm your way inside,” Julia said drolly.

“She saw my police bag and knew who I was. It appears you’ve told people about me. What exactly you’ve told them is unclear though.”

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” she mused.

“Are you, um, are we dating?” I asked in an embarrassed rush.

Julia’s features revealed her surprise at my question. “Even though we haven’t yet had an official second date, I’m pretty sure we can call what we’ve been doing lately ‘dating,’ yes.”

“Like, girlfriends though?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re an idiot, Cassidy Miller.”

“Hey!” I protested. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. You’re hard to read sometimes.”

“Very much so,” she smirked. “Are there any other pressing questions I can clear up for you?”

“No, I think that’s it for the moment.”

“What a relief.”

“Are you gonna be done here soon? I thought I’d surprise you and take you out to dinner,” I proposed. “Maybe we could finally have that second date.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet, dear, and I wish I could, but I’m meeting with more clients tonight. I have two more meetings after I’m done with Antonio’s mom.”

“Did you fall behind schedule or something?”

“No. Most of my clients don’t have the luxury of taking time off of work to meet with their lawyer, so I’m holding extended office hours once a week for those who can’t make it during our regular hours.”

“Wow. That’s really nice of you.”

“It’s more of a necessity than nice,” she shrugged. “I could communicate with them over e-mail or on the phone, but I find it far more effective to be able to sit down in my office with them and go over their case with minimum distractions.” She shifted the toddler on her hip. “Present company excluded, Antonio.”

“Still, you don’t have to do it.”

“I realize that,” she concurred. “But these people need someone to fight for them. It’s probably the first and only time in their life anyone has done that for them, especially a stranger.”

I thought about the picture of the dead woman, Jane Doe. She didn’t have anyone fighting for her anymore besides the people working for the cold case division.

“Should I stick around and walk you to your car when you’re done for the night? This doesn’t look like that bad of a neighborhood, but you can never be too careful.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be, honestly. I can’t ask you to hang out here until I’m done just to walk me to my car.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, we could do more than walk,” I offered with a waggle of my eyebrows.

“Miss Miller,” she said my name sternly. “There’s a child in the room.”

“Sorry, Tony, but can you blame me?” I apologized to the oblivious toddler. “Will you at least call me when you’re in your car and on your way home?”

Home.
Pensacola, Claire, and their newborn were occupying Julia’s apartment for only a few more days. Pense’s clinical trial was reaching its completion and then it would be time for them to bring Miller back to friends and family in Michigan. I could pretty much predict already that I wasn’t going to like it when Julia returned to her own space. I’d gotten used to seeing two toothbrushes in the souvenir cup in the bathroom.

Julia rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged on her lips. “If you insist.”

“I
do
insist,” I said with a cheeky grin. “I wanna make sure my girlfriend is safe.”

“Lord, don’t make me regret giving you permission to call me that.”

I leaned forward and she met me halfway for a soft kiss. I kissed her quickly, not wanting to traumatize the kid in her arms.

“You smell like a pool,” she observed, slightly wrinkling her nose.