Scene of the Crime Deadman's Bluff - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,8

sheriff asked.

Once again her heart began to bang a sickening rhythm. Where would she go? What would happen to her now? At least here in the hospital she knew where she was, she knew she was safe. But safe from what? Safe from who? Who would try to kill her by burying her? Why would anyone want to do that to her? She shoved the horrifying questions to the back of her mind and instead focused her attention on the conversation between the sheriff and Seth.

“We’re a small town. We don’t have the resources to put her up someplace until we can get some information from her,” the sheriff said.

“She’ll come to my house,” Linda replied smoothly. “Seth is there, she’ll be safe there and I’ll be able to look after her whenever I’m home.”

“Are you sure about this?” Seth asked.

“Positive. You can bunk on the sofa and I’ll give her the guest room.” Linda smiled at her. “Would you be okay with that? Staying at my place and giving yourself a little more time?”

She nodded. She had no reason not to trust the kind nurse and the man who had rescued her. And she was terrified by any other alternative.

“If you could just tell us your name then we could find out where you live, maybe call some relatives to let them know you’re here.” The sheriff took another step closer, his frustration wafting off him. “Just your name. Can you just tell me your name?”

She’d love to do that, but the problem was she didn’t know her name. She didn’t know who she was or where she lived. It was as if the sand where Seth had found her had given birth to her. She had absolutely no memories before that time and it was that particular horror that kept her from speaking.

She had nothing to say that could help them and she’d rather they thought her mute from trauma than admit that she had no idea who she was or where she belonged.

* * *

IT WAS JUST AFTER TWO in the afternoon when Seth went back to the hospital to pick up Jane Doe and take her home to Linda’s place. Since their early-morning visit with her, Sheriff Atkins had taken her fingerprints to see if anything would pop up in the system to identify her.

His deputies had searched the area for a car, scoured the dunes in hopes of finding a purse or a wallet that might let them know her name. But at the moment she remained Jane Doe.

Seth only hoped that with a little more time she’d trust them all enough to tell them who she was and exactly what had happened to her.

He’d spent most of the night before poring over the files of the two crimes that had occurred in the past two months. Deputy Raymond Michaels had dropped them off about seven the night before.

Seth could understand how the sheriff might have convinced himself that the first young woman, nineteen-year-old Rebecca Cook, had been the victim of some kind of a freak accident.

There had been a party on the dunes, and according to eyewitness reports, things had gotten pretty wild. Rebecca had attended the party but it had been the next day when a couple of riders had come out to enjoy the dunes that they’d discovered her body buried in the sand with only the tips of her toes showing.

The second victim, Vicki Smith, had been a relative newcomer to town. She was thirty years old at the time of her death and had been found almost exactly a month later, buried in a different area of the dunes. There was no way to write off her death as anything but what it had been...murder.

And here they were almost a month to the day after the last murder with a victim who had lived through sheer luck alone. Three months...three women, and Seth was aware that if the killer stayed on the same pattern that meant the clock had already begun ticking down for the next victim.

Time. It could be the biggest hindrance in solving a crime. The more time that passed the more opportunity a killer gained to cover his tracks or to manufacture an alibi. And the more time that passed, the closer they would get to the time when the killer would feel the need for a new victim.

Hopefully Sheriff Atkins would get a hit from the fingerprints they’d taken from the woman in the hospital and