Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) (6 page)

“We need to hire a better cleaning service. That floor should be black and white, not black and yellow.” I couldn’t help the color commentary.

Mitch was talking me through her tour of terror in the bowels of the station via a video call. I was packing for a morning workout at the gym, followed by a quick visit to Samantha, as we talked. Might as well do something useful with my forced hiatus. I’d be able to keep Mitch on the phone more or less alone until the morning shift change began in a few minutes.

The camera took in more yellowed tile as she walked down the hall and stood in front of the solid steel evidence room door. A round mirror was mounted above the door. Mitch’s slender figure reflected back at me as she held one hand up, pointing the phone into the mirror.

“And you need to gain a few pounds so I can hate you just a little less. There some new ordinance against body fat you’ve neglected to mention, or did you win another month’s worth of low-carb diet bars? You got no hips, woman. It’s unnatural.” I doubled my resolve to take full advantage of my time off. On any given day, it was even odds whether or not I could snap my gun belt around my waist, let alone let it ride down cool and low on my hips, like Mitch’s.

“You should get out more, Chief—lots of action on the other side of the desk. Great for fat burning. Not that you need it. But keep in mind, the camera adds ten pounds, so…” She was laughing now.

I loved her laughter. Hearing it again in the midst of the long, dark night of the soul that my life had suddenly become was like listening to a special concerto of Liszt and Elton John featuring dueling pianos. Minus the Vegas fanfare.

“Yeah, I get it. You’re even hotter in person. I know. I see you every day in polyester pants, remember?” I took in the familiar scene as she walked through the door. Her footsteps sounded gritty against the cement floor.

“Well, watch me walk over to the third shelving unit.” She held her phone up and narrated as she walked.

“We know the perp had at least two weapons—three if you count whatever drug they used.” Mitch’s steps slowed.

“
What?
” The new information kept piling up.

“Suspected use of some kind of drug. A definite needle mark was identified on both bodies a few hours ago by the M.E. The shoulder of one, and the palm of the hand on the other. We’re working on tox screens now, but whatever it was it gave the killer plenty of time to do his worst. Slow things down, give him a chance to enjoy the show.” Mitch’s shaking hands kept the camera bobbing up and down as she scanned the evidence boxes.

“At least our perp used a gun. A small mercy maybe?” Her voice betrayed her struggle to maintain her composure and finish this gruesome task.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a shooting.” Invisible fingers crushed the soft flesh under my chin. My brows shot up.

“No, I said it wasn’t a
fatal
shooting.”

Tiny beads of sweat dampened my forehead. I closed my eyes, fishing for anything to say to lighten the mood and pull my attention away from this horrible death at the hands of a mad man. Even Del didn’t deserve this.

“Don’t make me paint the scene for you, Mitch.” My jaw ached. I unclenched my teeth.

“Make up your mind. Are we breaking this down together or not? What about your ‘less is more’ axiom?” Mitch moved the camera along the shelf of tagged evidence boxes and bags.

“Oh, brother. I don’t know any more. This is a lot to take in. Did you get a sense from the M.E. of the length of time it took for them to go? Lie to me if you have to… please tell me their death wasn’t as horrific as the scene suggested.” I had to stop, cradle my head between my hands. My living room was spinning.

“It’s pretty nasty.” She stifled a gagging sound as she spun the camera back to the evidence bay. Focusing in on the shelf, she passed the bags and pulled a large evidence storage box to the floor. Setting the lid aside, she zeroed in on a see-through tube sporting a hypodermic needle.

“Is that the killer’s drug kit?” It couldn’t be anything else.

“Check.” Her voice had quieted to just above a whisper.

Asking the questions, sticking to the facts, helped ease the tension in my body.

She followed my lead, kept acting more like a cop, less like a person who’d just lost a former colleague.

“Where are the other two weapons? And why use three when two would do?”

“Better safe than sorry. This was a careful killer. He—or she—she wanted them dead, really dead.”

“But why the belt and suspenders? Why use a gun when you have a disabling drug?”

“Because he needed to buy himself some time? Maybe he wasn’t very strong? The surprise factor would only last a few seconds. He shot them in the legs first and then got close enough to drug them. He must’ve been pretty good at it. It would take a lot of finesse to get the drop on two people, especially if one of them was a cop. Even a crappy one.” Mitch paused and cleared her throat. Her voice sounded raw. Was she crying?

“I know.” I didn’t want to hear what had happened next. But I had to. I’d seen the way the bodies were positioned. I had an idea of how things had gone down. My hands were clammy, and the phone slipped a little in my hand as I strained to hear Mitch on the other end.

“He shot them both in the knees, and then he would’ve gone to Del first. He’d have been reeling and heading into shock. The killer would have had no problem drugging him into submission while keeping him awake to watch.”

I nodded. My face iced over and the walls undulated like late-morning coastal waves. “Must’ve taken a heckuva lotta force to bludgeon a man and a woman to death with a sledgehammer.”

The walls were shifting toward me. The roof of my mouth was sandpaper, tearing up my tongue.

“Or a heckuva lotta anger.” Mitch sniffled.

“Lotta angry men out there.” I threw it out as a shield.

“And a few angry women too.” Mitch held the phone back up to her face. She wore a concerned expression, but her voice was cold hard steel.

“Now all we gotta do is find the right one.”

I stomped through my bedroom, opening and closing drawers—pulling out jeans and a sweatshirt. I threw on the clothes and headed downstairs. In my mind, the fireplace glowed with a fury, and I couldn’t look at it. The specter of what I’d just seen via Mitch’s cell phone hung before me as I made myself a strong pot of French pressed coffee.

What were the rest of the guys saying about me this morning? Aware of its morbid power, I’d never given gossip any air to breathe. Who were they drawing into the pit of disbelief as every lie was cast about?

I poured my coffee, black, and sat down at the counter. My cell phone buzzed, confirming an appointment with Kira Stoklavich, the department’s therapist, at 8:00 this morning. Maybe she could help me sort fact from fiction.

You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.

Whoa!
Where had
that
come from? And how the heck was I gonna find the truth? How big a life of its own had the idea of me being a murderer taken on? I sipped the hot brew. My Magnificent Being and I could handle it. His glorious peace wrapped around me like a prayer shawl. It freed my mind to wander. I finished my coffee, picked up my gym bag, and paused to grab my barn coat. Just touching it brought back pleasant memories.

Gray legs, replete with sculpted muscles, pounding down the rail… poetry in motion as his graceful silhouette floated down the arena fence. A great big, beautiful, 17.2 hand quarter horse gelding named Scooter waited for me across town.
I gotta go see a woman about a horse
.

A quick barn visit would be just the elixir I’d need after my meeting with Kira. With any luck at all, I’d still be able to keep my coveted Friday visit with Samantha. Until my innocence was firmly established at the station, I had to tread carefully where Samantha was concerned.

During the past several weeks, I’d been hard at work gathering references, arranging home visits and interviews, and working through the legions of paperwork for the process of formally adopting my little girl. I was grateful beyond belief to have the afternoon with her to look forward to, but in light of the murder investigation, was it wise? As much as I wanted to see her, I didn’t want to bring any more disruption into her life.

Maybe a better woman would wait until things calmed down. But I
needed
to see her. I prayed her little-girl warmth would envelope me like a cocoon and help me forget about the horror of the past thirty-six hours.

Other than Scooter, Samantha, and my mother, no one was really dying to see me. Funny what being the prime suspect in a gruesome double-murder case does to your calendar. Heat rushed to my face as the image of Cliff and Georgi, two of my dearest friends, passed quickly through my mind.
I’ll call them next
.

I tossed my gym bag in the back seat and settled into my squad car. It felt good to be at the wheel again. Before backing down the driveway, I voice-dialed my mother’s number and left a message telling her I’d be stopping by soon. My phone chirped, and I turned it over. The screen lit up with Donna’s face, and I smiled into the cold plastic. “Hey.”

“That’s not the most articulate greeting you’ve ever offered me. But far from the worst. Do you want me to call Georgi for you, or have you already talked to her?”

I sighed. “Yes. Please.” How I ever got so lucky to have such amazing friends was beyond me.
Thank you God
.

“You know she can stay with me.”

Donna had probably already invited her.

I lifted my eyes to the sky. “I’m so grateful for you both. Yes. Call her. Have her bring all the cheese and chocolate she can carry. We’re in for a few long days. And I need you both by my side. I’m off to see Dr. Stoklavich.

“By yourself?” She raised her voice.

“Yes.” I swallowed.

“Are you really okay going to this appointment alone, sweetie?” Her voice carried me into a safety zone. She and her husband Jim had been my saviors many a night. That they lived next door was one of the Seven Wonders of the World to me. In fact, their house disappeared from my rear-view mirror as I headed out of the subdivision.

“I’m not comfortable with your professional obligations with Kira. I still haven’t forgiven her for how she treated you during your last visit. And I just don’t like the woman.” Donna’s nerves had not been soothed when I explained the reason for my visit. Kira had never been my staunchest supporter. Water under the bridge.

“Thank you. But c’mon, it’s not going to be that bad. Sure, Kira’s an odd and elegant duck. She’ll be decked out in some designer’s fantasy, staring at me with that bemused look on her face while I serve my time on her leather sofa.” I attempted a giggle and failed.

“And tell me again why you have to see that hateful woman.” Donna’s tone underscored her distaste.

“It’s simple. Caring for my mental health makes me look even better as a prospective parent, especially in my line of work. And getting back to my normal activities might help everyone around me relax a little and stop focusing on the double murder. The sooner people start seeing
me
again instead of the all the chaos around me, the sooner I get to continue the adoption process in earnest.”

“And finally become Samantha’s forever family.” Warmth radiated from her voice.

“Yes. At least I
think
that’s my heart’s desire.” My lip quivered.

Did I just say those words out loud? Samantha’s little body pressed up tight against mine in one of her welcome bear hugs swept through my mind, and a small smile erupted from my heart. But then a wave of fear slammed against me. I managed to keep talking. Letting the secret out had broken the dam of self-doubt.

“What if I’m no good at it? What if she gets sick? What if, four days into this, she hates me, and I’m a failure as a mother? Then where will she go? What if I fail at being a wife
and
a mom?” I was wandering through the city streets, palms pounding the wheel to emphasize my fears. “What if I can’t keep her safe?”

“You’ve got to calm down. I wish you could see yourself the way Jim and I see you. You’re strong, resilient, kind, and supremely capable. You’ll make a wonderful mother. You two belong together. I just know it.”

“Can I borrow some of that confidence?” I balanced my cell phone between my neck and my ear as I drove. “And thank you for listening to me and not judging me. It’s like an eighteen-wheeler’s been lifted off my chest.”

“You’re not much of an actress, you know. Live next door to someone for ten years, and you pick up on a few things. I could smell your fear from my house. You got this one, Jo. You really do. You’re going to be an amazing mom. Now suck it up and go see that frightful woman. Ciao.”

She hung up before I could thank her again. The silence in the wake of my confession stirred up more troubling questions. My anxious thoughts kept me grounded all the way to Kira’s office.