Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,63

today and then decided, well, I decided, we needed to check out the house after seeing the blueprints in the archives. And then on our way out, we checked out the one container that didn’t have a lock.”

“It was a trap?” the sheriff said, motioning to a couple of the deputies.

“I don’t know… maybe an opportunity?” she said.

“I want this property locked down—tight. Everything searched again. Fingerprints taken on the containers, construction equipment, and anything else. Call John and have him go over everything. There must be something that will give us some answers.” Sheriff Scott reluctantly left Katie’s side and surveyed the property, giving more orders.

“Go get checked out, okay?” she said to McGaven.

“I will.”

She slowly walked to Chad who had been patiently waiting for her with Cisco at his side. “Hi. Thank you for saving us.” She petted Cisco who had some bandages on his legs.

“Just my job,” he said, trying to force a smile, but it was clear that he was concerned and relieved all at once.

She bent down to examine the dog. “Is Cisco okay?”

“He’s fine, just some minor cuts trying to get out of the vehicle.”

Katie hugged the dog tight—she realized how close she could have been to losing her partner and dog.

“Looks like you were all lucky.”

“McGaven is going to get checked out at the hospital.”

“And you?” he said.

“I will go too.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Sheriff Scott had already made his rounds and came back to Katie and Chad. He said, “That crazy bastard is still out there. Chad, I want you to stay with Katie until all this is over. Understood?”

“Absolutely, sir. You have my word.”

“I’m not a little girl. I’m a police officer, remember? And I have Cisco too.”

“I would feel better. Is that too much to ask?”

“Of course not,” she said as all the heavy feelings of juggling everything alone came tumbling back.

Thirty-Three

Monday 0745 hours

Katie drove Chad’s extra Jeep to the sheriff’s department, her mind whirring with fresh ideas. Chad hadn’t let her lift a finger to do anything for the entire Sunday as he fussed around her doing all the cooking and cleaning, sternly instructing her to rest. Even her uncle checked in twice to make sure that she was following explicit orders—his and the doctor’s. So thinking was all she could do under the circumstances.

Katie had to admit that she did feel rested, even with a few more bruises than usual, but she felt recharged and ready to tackle all the evidence and leads on these cases. She had jotted down a few notes over the past day and wanted to get started immediately.

McGaven had called her Saturday evening and told her that he was fine—no serious damage to his lungs or organs—just bruising. He was supposed to rest for a few days and he didn’t say for sure if he would be in on Monday morning.

Katie parked and made her way to the office, running scenarios of the case through her mind as always. She had some follow-up questions for Tanis Jones and wanted to talk to her as soon as possible, and she also wanted to get someone tracking Keller’s movements.

Opening the door to the cold-case office, she was surprised to see McGaven sitting, as usual, at his laptop keying in search parameters.

“Hi,” she said, amazed that he had decided to come to work.

“Hey, partner,” he said not looking up from the computer.

“I thought you’d be taking a few days off.”

“For what?”

“To rest.”

“Nah, I’d just be sitting at home thinking about stuff here. So at least I’m sitting here at work being productive.”

“Okay, great.” She put her things down and retrieved her notebook. “Have we heard anything from forensics taken from the bulldozer and container?”

“No. But I don’t think they’ll be much—at least according to John. I ran into him this morning.”

“Oh,” said Katie disappointed. She had thought they would have found something—anything—fingerprints—anything of interest.

“I’ve been trying to find the other girls from the foster home and it’s been frustrating. Terry Slaughter has had so many aliases it’s next to impossible to track. And Heather Lawson moved to Kansas, but there’s no information found: death certificate, job, social security, owning anything. Nothing.”

“If she’s alive, it’s clear that she’s staying off the radar. Perhaps she’s homeless.”

“No arrest records either.”

“Hmm… she might have decided that she didn’t like Kansas and moved to another state.”

“I’m checking now. But it will take some time.”

“What do we know about her?” she asked.

“Not much.”

“I want to talk to Tanis Jones again—maybe she might have