Page 157 of Another Girl Lost

The DNA on Sandra’s body was too degraded to be viable. It was a dead end, and there was no physical proof of Della or Lynn handling the body. Lynn had admitted she’d seen a girl at Tanner’s, but that wasn’t proof of Della’s existence. If not for the 9-1-1 call, Sandra might never have been found and Lynn’s truth never discovered. Cops were already theorizing Tiffany had made the call.

“Scarlett.” Luke’s voice pulled me out of my trance. “You okay?”

I shut off the water. He pushed back the curtain and wrapped the towel around me. “I’m okay.”

He’d remained at my side as evidence collectors poked, prodded, and photographed me. The cops hadn’t appeared angry as they’d gathered forensic data, though I saw distrust in several gazes. I supposed there’d always be people who doubted me.

I’d watched Margo talk to the other cops at the crime scene. She moved with the confidence of a master conductor. If there was physical proof that she was Della, she knew it was long gone. She’d won. And for now, we had a truce.

He cupped my face. “You don’t have to be.”

I looked up at him. “I have to be or I’ll fall to pieces. Can’t let the ghosts win.”

“If you do see a few ghosts and fall apart, I’ll help put you back together.” Luke wrapped his arms around me, trapping in the shower’s heat. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

I nestled close to him, savoring the strength of his arms. When I finally pulled back, I studied his sharp eyes. “The DNA. You used your contacts to expedite the testing, didn’t you?”

He pushed a wet strand from my face. “I twisted an arm or two.”

“That was a risk. Were you worried I could’ve been guilty?”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“No?” I arched a brow. Any attorney worth his salt would have been suspicious of me. But I wanted to believe him. “I would’ve worried about me.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. I have a radar for the unsaid. I know innocent when I see it.”

I leaned forward and kissed him. I wasn’t sure I totally believed him, but it was nice to hear. “What am I not saying now?”

He chuckled. “I’d rather you show me.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

DAWSON

Thursday, August 1, 2024

12:00 noon

Dawson had no trouble getting the search warrant for Lynn Yeats’s town house. He and two other detectives were quickly given the green light to search every crevice of the space. However, he’d not notified Margo because she was still on leave, and frankly, he wanted to see this place without her clouding his insights.

The search team broke into two groups and began to methodically comb through what amounted to a very ordinary town house. Beige walls and carpet, living room furniture that appeared to have been purchased years ago as a matched set, printed posters of the Chesapeake Bay hanging on the walls, and framed pictures of Lynn and her family. Mother, father, sister. There’d even been pictures of a few cats, though there was no sign of any living creature in the house.

He’d learned an hour ago that the text from Lynn to Scarlett had been sent from a disposable phone, and it had also been purchased from the same convenience store where the Sandra Taylor 9-1-1 caller had bought their burner.

After he climbed the stairs to the second floor, he flexed gloved hands as he entered her bedroom. The bed was neatly made. There were two books and a pair of reading glasses on the bedside table. A half-drunk glass of water. The bathroom was clean, the mirror sparkling. Nothing stronger than aspirin in the medicine chest.

In Lynn’s walk-in closet, her clothes had been arranged by color and hung on matching hangers. A dozen pairs of shoes lined up like soldiers. He scanned the brown, blue, and white blouses and skirts. There was a stack of neatly folded scrubs on a back shelf, and he saw several pairs of white running shoes. He glanced up toward clear storage boxes stuffed with purses, scarves, and hats. Behind one container, his fingers skimmed over a twelve-by-twelve square metal box. Pulling it down, he discovered a small lock securing the latch.

A half smile quirked his lips as he wrapped his hand around the lock and twisted hard. The lock didn’t give, but the latch separated from the box. He opened the lid and realized it was a collection of mementos.

The first was a sketch of a young girl whom he recognized immediately as Scarlett. When she’d first encountered Della on that side street, she’d been trying to sell her art. She’d called her self-portraitGirl Ready to Escape. He carefully dropped the paper in an evidence bag, knowing there could be fingerprints.

Next, he found a silver necklace that matched the bracelet found on Sandra’s body.SCwas carved into the single medallion. There were other trinkets that didn’t appear to relate to Della, Sandra, or Scarlett, and he feared this could be evidence of more victims.

At the bottom of the box was a white envelope, and in it, three Polaroid pictures. The first was Sandra. She was clearly distressed and scared. The second picture was of Scarlett. Like Sandra, her eyes were red and her face bruised. Dawson rubbed his chin, doing his best to tamp down rage.

The last Polaroid featured a young girl with dark curly hair. Unlike the other two, she stared defiantly into the camera just as she did in the portrait Scarlett had painted. Della.

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