Deadly Row, A - By Casey Mayes Page 0,11
soon have you around, instead of being two hours away.”
He nodded. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be able to get anything done here; I’d be worrying about you the entire time.” He turned to Davis. “Let’s see the rest of those photographs. Maybe something I see will make some sense of this mess.”
“It’s all upstairs,” he said. “We were just getting ready to form a task force, so I had my men take everything up there.”
“Who all is on this task force of yours?” Zach asked.
Davis grinned slightly. “Well, so far, there’s you.”
“Don’t forget my assistant,” he said.
“I’m not sure I’m all that thrilled with that title,” I said.
“But you’ll take it, right?”
“You bet. I don’t care what you call me, as long as you let me in on what’s going on.”
Davis led us upstairs, and we came to a large, empty conference room with five white boxes perched on a long, folding table. The walls were blank, and there wasn’t a window in the place. Against one wall were six folding chairs and a few more tables, but there wasn’t another thing in the room.
“We can do better than this,” Davis said.
“It’s fine,” Zach said. “I can use the wall space to pin everything up, or you can bring in some foil-backed foam insulation board if you don’t want to ruin your walls.” The construction foam board was a favorite of my husband’s. It came in four by eight foot sheets, and it took pushpins beautifully.
“I’ll have them here within an hour, and I’ll also have a copier moved in,” Davis said. “Do you need anything else at the moment?”
“No, we’re good,” Zach said, barely even acknowledging the man’s presence. I knew my husband too well. He was already deep in thought about how to catch this killer, and I was going to do everything in my power to help him.
“It might help if you gave me a little information about what’s been happening,” I said.
Zach looked at me, clearly distracted by my question, but if I was going to be of any assistance, I had to have some information.
“So far, there have been two murders that are connected o the threat on Grady. A high-society businessman with a lot of different companies, Hank Tristan, was discovered in his bed stabbed in the heart after a charity ball. The second victim, Cindy Glass, was a little less prominent, a personal assistant to a very important man in Charlotte, but the notes sent afterward along with the souvenirs were from the same person, so we know they’re linked somehow.”
I knew what the distraction was costing my husband, and though I wanted more details, I understood I had to be satisfied with the information I had. We set up the other tables and chairs, and Zach started digging through the boxes.
“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” I asked. “Maybe I can help you.”
“This looks like everything was just dumped into a box without any rhyme or reason. I need to make sense of it, but before I can do that, I have to get it organized.”
“That’s something I can help with. My whole job as a puzzle maker is to find order in chaos.”
He whistled under his breath, a sure sign that he wanted to say something to me that he didn’t think I was going to like.
“Zach, don’t think of me as your wife right now. Treat me like an assistant and tell me what you’d like me to do.”
“Some of these photos are kind of graphic,” he said. “I’m not crazy about having you look at them.”
“I can handle it,” I said, though if I were being honest about it, the prospect of looking at dead bodies was pretty mortifying to me.
“Tell you what. You handle the official police documents, and I’ll deal with the rest.”
I started to protest when he added, “It’s the way I want it done, and I expect my assistant to do as she’s asked.”
“Just as long as you don’t expect your wife to follow orders,” I said.
“Do I look that crazy to you?”
“Where do you want me to start?”
“Find the case files for the two murders,” Zach said. “If you see any pictures or letters, anything that doesn’t look like an official police document, put it in a pile over by the door. Stack your files on the table. Let’s get started.”
As I searched through the boxes, I did my best to ignore the content of the photographs I found