something could be done to stop it from spilling over onto this quiet, tree-lined street, but he wasn’t optimistic.
He pulled up to the curb and got out of his vehicle, walking up the concrete path to the front door of the address Jennifer Pagett had written down for him. He heard some shuffling on the other side of the door and waited a minute before the door was pulled open, and a man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties stood before him in a white T-shirt and track pants, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy as if he’d just been woken from a long sleep. Reed had assumed the man would be Hispanic considering his last name, but Milo Ortiz appeared to be half black. “Yeah?”
Reed unclipped his badge and flashed it at the man. “Milo Ortiz?”
His eyes shot to the badge. “Uh-huh,” he said haltingly.
“Detective Reed Davies. You called in finding a body on your shift several days ago?”
Milo’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “Yeah. That’s right.” He scrubbed at his face. “I thought I was being pranked for a minute, you know? It didn’t look real. But I walked right up to it and it was real, all right. I went back to my truck and used my cell to call it in.”
Reed nodded. “Can we chat inside for a minute?”
“Oh, yeah sure.” Milo stepped back allowing Reed entrance and he walked into the ranch style house, turning as Milo closed the door behind him. “That way,” he said, gesturing his hand down a short hall that looked to open up into a living room.
As they walked past the open doorway of a kitchen, Reed glanced in, spotting a couple of marijuana plants growing on the windowsill.
“Shit,” he heard Milo say softly from his right.
“I’m not here for that,” Reed assured him.
Milo let out a nervous laugh. “Cool. Thanks, man. Uh, Detective. In here,” he said. Reed followed him into the living room that featured army-green shag carpeting, a couple of plaid couches, and an easy chair with large patches of leather rubbed off the arms and headrest. Despite the furniture that clearly belonged to another decade and had seen its share of use, the room was neat and tidy.
A cat was sleeping at the end of the couch and Reed sat down next to it, careful not to jostle the animal. It opened one eye, took him in, and, apparently unimpressed, went back to sleep.
“Any suspects yet?” Milo asked, sitting down in the easy chair. “I’ve been following The Hollow-Eyed Killer case on the news.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe I found one of his victims.”
“No, no suspects yet, unfortunately. I know you gave a statement to the officers who first arrived on the scene of the crime. I’m one of the detectives working the case, and I wanted to talk to you in person, make sure there was nothing you might have forgotten, or considered later that you didn’t think about at the time.”
Milo shook his head. “No. What I told you at the door, and what I first told the officers, is pretty much exactly like it happened. I would have stuck around, but I was working a shift.”
“I understand. You told the officers you didn’t recognize the victim, but being that it was almost dark and his face was . . . mutilated, would you mind looking at a photograph to confirm you’ve never seen him before?”
Milo looked dubious. “It’s of the guy alive, right? I don’t have to look at another picture of his dead corpse?”
“No. The victim is alive in this photo.” It was, in fact, his license photo from the BMV. Reed reached in the file folder he’d set down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him and handed it to Milo. Milo took a moment to study it, squinting before he shook his head, handing it back. “No. I don’t think so.”
I don’t think so. Reed slipped it back in the folder and removed the ones beneath it. “Okay, thank you, Mr. Ortiz. Do you mind looking at the photos of the other victims as well? We haven’t released all the names to the news yet, and I’d like to rule out any possibility that you recognize these people.”
“Is there any reason I would?”
“Not unless you’re mistaken about not knowing the victim you found in that alley. We believe the other victims are connected in some way, and maybe seeing