possibility of linking Shay to the other crimes. Sara had overseen exhumations before. Embalming was only meant to last a few weeks. The body rapidly decayed once it was in the ground. In some of the cases involving sealed internment, the body had looked as pristine as the day it had gone into the ground. Once, the only evidence that time had passed was a growth of mold on the upper lip.
Sara thought about Jeffrey again. There was no question that he had been brutally murdered. She had watched it happen with her own eyes. How would she feel if his cause of death had been undetermined?
She picked up her phone and texted Amanda—
I want to speak to the Van Dornes and give them as much information as possible, then let them decide how we proceed.
Amanda quickly texted back—
K.
Will schedule meeting ASAP.
Still need files from Brock.
What about Humphrey?
Sara put down her phone. She sat back in her chair. Procrastination was generally reserved for household chores, not work-related tasks. You couldn’t get through medical school by putting off all of the unpleasant things you had to do.
So why was Sara resorting to it now?
She opened the browser on her laptop and typed in Thomasina Tommi Jane Humphrey.
The girl was not on Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat or Instagram. She was not in the GBI database or White Pages or on the Grant Tech message board. A general search returned several Scottish and a few Welsh Humphreys, but nothing in Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee or South Carolina.
Considering what had happened to Tommi, it made sense that she would keep a low profile.
Sara ran through the same searches with Delilah Humphrey and Adam Humphrey.
The Grant Observer returned one relevant item: Four years ago, Adam Humphrey had been crushed to death when the car he was working on slipped from the jack. He was listed as survived by his wife and daughter. His viewing had been scheduled at the Brock Family Funeral Home. Donations to Planned Parenthood were encouraged in lieu of flowers.
Sara studied the photograph of a round-faced, smiling man. She had met Adam Humphrey twice. The first time, the father was bundling his broken child into the back of his van to drive her to Atlanta. The last time was that awful day in the Humphreys’ back yard. Adam had threatened a police officer with violence in order to protect his daughter.
Sara closed the browser. She considered her options. She could honestly tell Amanda that she had made a good-faith effort, but they would both know that wasn’t technically the truth.
There was a better resource than the internet for Grant County connections. Sara’s mother had gone to church with the Humphreys. If Cathy didn’t know where they were, she would know someone who knew someone. But her mother would ask Sara how she was doing. Sara could lie, but Cathy would hear that something was wrong in her voice. Then there would be a discussion, possibly an argument, because Cathy was not a fan of Will’s and Sara was in such a mood right now that she would scratch out the eyes of anyone who dared say anything against him.
Marla Simms from the police station would be a good fallback, but Sara was loath to do anything else that put her in close proximity to memories of Jeffrey. It was hard to move forward when you kept looking back over your shoulder.
Sara ended up with her elbows on her desk and her head in her hands.
Last night came back to her like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. She still felt punch-drunk from lack of sleep. No amount of make-up could hide the swelling in her eyes. Will had smiled at her as he’d left the briefing room, but Sara knew what a real smile looked like on his handsome face and the one he had given her was not that smile. She hated this feeling of distance between them. Her body ached like she was coming down with the flu.
Her phone beeped. Sara scrambled to see if Will had texted. He had not. Amanda sent another series of quick-fire missives:
Lab lost Truong lab results.
Nick can’t locate copies.
Get originals from Brock ASAP.
Call ASAP when you speak to Humphrey.
Amanda was a fan of the ASAPs.
Instead of texting back, Sara opened the Find My app, because it wasn’t stalking if you truly loved the person.
Will’s last location was still showing him at Lena’s address.
Sara dropped the phone back on her desk.
Last night, she had been annoyed