Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,35
corner of her desk was Undersheriff Dorothy Sullivan, dressed in a deputy uniform instead of her expensive suit and spike heels. Her makeup had been pared back a little too.
Both McGaven and the undersheriff turned to Katie as she stood in the doorway.
McGaven raised his eyebrows at Katie, implying that he had no idea why the second highest officer at the sheriff’s department had paid an unannounced visit to their cold-case office.
“Detective Scott,” the undersheriff said. There was something in the way she pronounced “Scott” that made Katie cringe.
“Undersheriff Sullivan?” Katie replied.
“Oh no, Sullivan or Dottie is just fine,” she said and smiled broadly as she stood up, several inches taller than Katie, even without her heels.
Katie returned a smile as she dropped her briefcase and the large envelope from Shane on the desk. “Is there anything that we can do for you?”
“Oh no. I’m just making the rounds and talking with everyone—getting acquainted. I wanted to see how the cold-case unit operated. Very clever use of space here. It’s great, actually,” she said looking around and gazing at Katie’s whiteboard scribbled with notes and next leads. “I won’t keep you two. I can see that you’re busy.” She hesitated before exiting, as if on cue. “I appreciate your reports on the Harlan homicide. Keep up the great work.” She turned and then faced Katie directly. “How’s lunch sometime next week?”
“Uh, sure.” Katie tried to sound enthusiastic, but she wasn’t looking forward to being chatty with her boss or having a “girls’ lunch” either.
“Your uncle said how much you like burgers, so let’s meet for burgers then.”
“Of course. Text me the date and time,” said Katie.
Undersheriff Sullivan left.
“Well, that was exciting,” said McGaven, not looking up from the computer screen.
Katie put her index finger to her lips—giving the signal to remain quiet for a moment. She peered out the door and everything was clear. “She’s gone now.”
“Katie made a new friend,” said McGaven teasingly.
“Thanks. Why don’t you go instead?”
“C’mon, a burger power-lunch will do you good.”
“Yeah, no.”
“Here’s info and background on the girls,” he said and handed Katie a sheet of paper. “To add to your murder board.”
“Okay. Wow, not a lot of information.”
“I was a bit surprised too—but they were essentially thrown away, taken into foster care and thrown back out. I couldn’t find a residence for Tanis Jones, but there’s her last place of employment. It’s something.”
Katie began writing an overview of the young women who were the last to stay at Elm Hill Mansion. “Okay, Tanis Jones works at Sunshine Gifts & Antiques. We’ll have to pay her a visit. Heather Lawson moved out of state to Kansas and there are no records for her. Terry Slaughter – no information. She has quite a few aliases. And Karen Beck committed suicide in prison.”
Katie stood back and sighed.
“What’s up?” McGaven asked.
“Just looking at the short lives of these young women. How things could have been different if they had homes, families, someone who cared. It just makes me sad.”
“For all intents and purposes, we have to move forward assuming that Candace Harlan is alive,” he said slowly. “Heather Lawson and Terry Slaughter, too.” McGaven scrolled through pages of information. “I believe that Lawson and Slaughter most likely changed their names. It will be difficult to find them, but we can, if needed.”
“Unless one of them becomes our next victim,” Katie said sourly.
“Hey, you’re not getting all negative on me now,” he said.
“Never.” She studied the board. “We need to talk with Tanis Jones.”
McGaven looked up. “Let’s go.”
A buzz alerted Katie that there was a text. She glanced at her phone and saw that it was from Chad, but dismissed it, promising herself she would get back to him later.
“Have we received any emails from forensics or the medical examiner? We need to talk to him about Mary Rodriguez.” Katie hadn’t had a chance to open her messages and knew that McGaven was always cc’d on any reports.
“Nope.”
“What about that CPS officer? Has he called you back?”
“Wait a minute. Oh yes… Jerry Weaver, CAPSW.”
“That’s quite a title.”
“It means he’s a certified advanced practice social worker and CPA officer.”
“We need for him to get us all the information about the last six girls at the Elm Hill Mansion.”
“I’ve put in another call to him. We keep missing each other, so I gave him your number as well.”
“Good. Updates… okay, let’s see what kind of evidence picture we get here…” she said and began printing her newest information.