Page 92 of Water's Edge

Except for Leann Truitt. Born to a wealthy family. She is three for three on the profile-o-meter. Matches the description, worked in a bar, had a baby that she’d given up. The only differences are that Margie was still pregnant, so she hadn’t given up the child. Yet. And Leann had family that can be contacted.

I don’t need Marley’s report to know that Boyd’s DNA won’t match any of the victims. My killer is still out there.

I fall into bed hoping that I’ll get a solid three hours of sleep. Such hope evaporates as my mind refuses to push away the anxiety that the emails have caused. I think about the people I’ve hurt in my life, either intentionally as part of some greater cause, or by being unable to show the kind of love that I know is inside of me. Someone out there knows my weaknesses. He knows my story. He knows that I’m a fighter.

And when I meet him, I intend to prove that I have never had time for, or trust in, the word sorry.

Forty-Five

Sheriff Gray is standing by my desk the next morning, talking to his second cousin, Larry, who is slouched in my chair.

I’ll need Clorox wipes.

Larry stands and gives a theatrical bow. He’s added an extra squirt of oil on his hair and I’m all but certain he’s flammable.

“There’s the little lady now,” he says.

“I was going to call you last night.”

“Don’t you worry your little head about it. Tony’s been filling me in. You’ve been busy, Missy.”

Missy?

Sheriff Gray steps in before I can say anything. “I guess she’s got this thing about cleared up. Reserve Deputy Marsh is going by the crime lab to get the DNA results from the Skunk Island deaths.”

Larry sits on the edge of my desk and slaps a big hand down on a big thigh. “All wrapped up in a neat little package. Boyd’s the guy. I guess his roommate out at the college found him out and Boyd killed him too.”

“Yeah,” I say. If that helps Larry sleep at night I won’t argue. “Detective Gray, I need to ask you something.”

“You can call me Larry,” he says, quickly adding, “In fact, I insist. You just cleared my biggest case.”

“Thank you, Larry,” I say.

And you have no idea what’s going on.

“I want to tie up any loose ends,” I say, “you know, just to cover our tail ends.”

His face grows serious and he huffs out a breath.

“I know all about that, kiddo,” he tells me. “I been through that wringer. Some attorney wants to make a name for herself and drags a cop through the mud.”

Just then I guess that some lawyer had the unfortunate luck of being a woman and took exception to one of his poor investigations.

“I’m going to go ask some questions about Margie if you don’t mind. You know. Talk to her last employer, see if I can find friends, that kind of stuff.”

I say all of that with very little enthusiasm, as if it’s a bottom-of-the-barrel endeavor but someone has to do it.

“I’ll escort you myself,” he says. “Bring that little gal partner of yours along and I’ll treat you to a breakfast that’s to die for.”

“That’s not necessary, Larry. Just covering some bases.”

“All righty. But you call any old time and the offer’s still on the table,” he says with a wink.

My skin crawls.

“Thank you, Larry,” I say. “I will.”

I will never.

---