Killer Love - Ella Goode Page 0,18

statement. “This is Val Cooper. She was the mom of the kid that was found chained in the basement. She claimed that her kid was possessed by the devil and she was forced to keep the kid there for the safety of others. She pled insanity and got sentenced to six months in a mental institution but got out after only three.”

“And the autopsy report says that she died of asphyxiation.” I peer up at the detectives. “These files appear to pertain to deceased individuals. Are you doing an audit of another coroner’s office?”

“No. Today Mr. Washington’s body washed up on shore, just north of the inlet where Old Man Dodd lives.”

So soon. Perhaps I should have weighted his body down, but, no, that would have defeated the purpose. Dead bodies are meant to be found and examined. The cases without bodies linger in people’s minds, encourage discovery missions such as the one that Lee and Sanchez are currently engaged in.

“And he is related to one of these two cases or”—I eye the folders—“or all of these cases?”

“Possibly. There’s one thing that connects all these cases,” Lee says. There’s a gleam in his eye that is making me uneasy.

“Bad coroner work?” I quip.

“All of these cases are unsolved and they all involve a person who was accused of a disgusting crime and either got a light sentence or no sentence at all,” Sanchez supplies. She dumps her files on top of Lee’s and starts going through them, listing off case after case—a pedophile here, an abuser there, a rapist two counties over.

I point that out. “Some of these files aren’t from us.”

“I know. I’ve—we’ve been working on this all week. Washington’s body is the nail in the coffin.”

“What are you suggesting?” pipes in the intern.

Lee whirls around to face the young woman. “We have a serial killer. Someone is killing all these people.”

“None of the killings are the same,” I say, flipping through the files. “This one was by blunt trauma. This one was from blood loss. This one says they died of a heart attack.” I was particularly proud of that one. It takes skill to induce heart trauma in an otherwise healthy person.

“It’s the randomness that is the common thread,” Lee declares.

Both my intern and I look at the detectives in slightly disdainful disbelief. “The fact that there is nothing similar about these deaths is what you’re using to connect them all?”

“Not just that,” SanchezSanchez says, her cheeks a bit pink. “It’s that they’re all—“

“Scum,” sniffs the intern. “It sounds like it’s good riddance.”

“It’s not our place to make that judgment,” I say.

The intern dips her head and pretends to busy herself with the report we just finished but not before I catch her rolling her eyes. “Some people need killing,” she mutters under her breath.

I pretend not to hear her. “What would you like me to do with these files, Detective?”

There’s a stretch of silence before SanchezSanchez says, slightly abashed, “We want you to review the cases to see if you can find any similarities, any tells. Did the killer use a drug to incapacitate them? Was there one primary method of death such as a blow to the head?”

“This head looks perfectly intact,” I point to the file in front of me.

“I know it looks that way, but maybe we can start to draw some commonalities and draw up an MO for this guy. There are four other jurisdictions that are ready to cooperate, but everyone knows we have the best coroner so that’s why we’re bringing the files to you.”

“Four?” Usually these departments from other counties can’t agree on which donuts to serve at a state convention but they’re all cooperating on these case files, some of which are—I flip to a yellowed folder—ten years old.

“Yeah and maybe more. We’ve sent out feelers to other counties.”

“This is a lot of work.” I cast an eye toward the coolers where I have three bodies waiting.

“We know. What can we do to help?” SanchezSanchez pulls up a chair and plops down. “We’re ready to go through these with you.”

“Flora, can you stay?” I ask the intern.

She nods reluctantly. “I’m getting overtime for this, though, right?”

I arch an eyebrow. SanchezSanchez sighs. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll put in a request. Now can we get started?”

Chapter Fourteen

Angel

I stare down at the phone feeling disappointed by Lucas’ text. I thought last night was wonderful. He seemed to enjoy himself also, but suddenly worry fills me. I can still feel the small ache