Page 62 of Remember Her Name

“Nothing. Everything is a dead end right now.” It was a waiting game. Processing evidence took time, and with three murders in a week, their in-house ERT was already overwhelmed. The state lab was perpetually backed up. They’d receive their expedited requests for DNA results sooner than normal but not soon enough.

Noah left them to confer with the tow truck driver.

“Come on, Quinn,” Turner goaded. “You’re the superstar around here. What’s next?”

She shrugged. Her body begged for coffee. “Release the stills we have of the suspect from the parking lot at Stella Townsend’s apartment complex and Griffin Hall to the press. You can’t see his face well, but someone might recognize him.”

Turner smiled. “I’ll man the tip line.”

“So you can stay in the air conditioning? I don’t think so.”

Josie heard him chuckle as he gathered his jacket and phone. “Fine. Let’s get back to the stationhouse and see what kind of list Palmer’s got for us now.”

FORTY-SIX

Josie’s body practically sang with relief when she finally sagged into her desk chair. Even the overtaxed air conditioning felt divine. Noah had stopped to get them all takeout and coffee. They ate in silence while Gretchen worked on the new list of old cases. Caffeine and nourishment gave them their second wind. No one talked about going home just yet. With two blonde lattes making her restless, Josie got up and walked over to the corkboard.

Behind her, she heard the telltale pop of the tab from one of Turner’s energy drinks. A moment later, he was standing beside her, arm brushing hers as he tipped his head back and gulped down the entire can. When he finished, yellow drops clung to his beard. How had Trinity tolerated this guy over multiple lunches?

“I see your wheels turning over here, Quinn,” he said.

Josie elbowed him. “You’re standing too close.”

With a heavy sigh, he dropped his gaze to her. “Listen, sweetheart…Ah, fuck.”

Josie glanced over her shoulder in time to see Gretchen’s grin. Turner produced a dollar. Josie shook her head. “I’m telling you that you stand too close to me—a lot. I don’t like it.We don’t know each other that well. If you think you’re able to simply listen to me and stop doing it, you can keep that dollar.”

Noah appeared behind them and plucked it out of Turner’s hand. “No, he can’t. He still called you sweetheart. This is going in the jar. But Josie’s right.”

Turner took an exaggerated step away from her, scowling. “All right, fine. I’m just trying to do this whole team thing. Listen to your opinion and shit.”

Josie didn’t know if that was progress or not. She traced a finger from one crime scene photo to another. “If you were going to kill people because you wanted revenge on some cops or an ADA who did you dirty, why would you target these women?”

Turner followed the path of her finger. “Why kill them when their dad or grandfathers are still alive?”

“Exactly.”

Noah folded his arms across his chest. “Lampson’s in prison. Pretty hard to get to him.”

“LT, if you know the right people, you could make something fatal happen to a guy in prison,” said Turner. “Stage it to look like a prison fight.”

“But what would make them suffer more?” Josie said. “Killing them or killing the people they love?”

“I don’t think Lampson loved anyone but himself,” Noah said. “But I agree. This killer is getting revenge by killing family members.”

“Then why didn’t he kill the baby or the kid?” Turner asked. “Or is he one of these guys who thinks he’s all noble and shit because he won’t kill kids?”

It was possible that the killer had some reason for leaving Gracie Tate and Jared Rowe alive. After all, he’d lured Jared to the church and not killed him. Unless he thought the pulpit had killed him or would before the police arrived.

Josie said, “He’s trying to recreate something. This isn’t about some convict who just got out of prison and wants revenge on the people who put him away. This killer is recreating a crime scene. A specific crime scene.”

The printer in the corner of the room belched to life. “Hang on,” said Gretchen. “I’ve got the new list.”

She brought it over to them. It was significantly shorter but still, Josie didn’t immediately recognize any names. “We need to pull up the crime scene photos,” she said. “That’s how we’ll know which case we’re looking for.”

Turner crumpled his can and threw it away. His phone appeared in his hand, thumb swiping rhythmically as he sauntered back to his desk. Clearly, he’d grown bored with their current topic. Josie sat at her desk while Noah and Gretchen crowded behind her. She started with the first case on the list, pulling up the crime scene photos from each one. After an hour, her shoulders ached and her eyes felt gritty and dry. Noah went to get another round of coffees. When he returned, he pushed his chair next to Josie’s so he could view the slideshow of death from each file she reviewed. Gretchen went back to her own computer and started at the end of the list, searching from the last case and working toward the middle. Turner snoozed in his chair, his head tipped back, mouth open like a toddler. One of his hands still gripped his phone. Even in sleep he couldn’t let it go.

Every time Josie thought about taking a break or calling it a night, she remembered Jared Rowe’s deadened expression and it gave her the jolt she needed to continue. Then, she opened a new file, pulled up one of the crime scene photos and knew she’d found what they were looking for. A burst of energy surged through her body. Her senses sharpened. The fatigue she’d been fighting for the last hour evaporated.

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