Page 18 of Be Very Quiet

“Let me come with you.” Torres opened his mouth, but Luca cut him off. “I was one of you, damn it. I’ve been to Rader’s crime scenes before and might see something you don’t. An extra set of eyes never hurts. I won’t overstep my bounds or jeopardize the case.”

Torres clenched his jaw as he started the cruiser and activated the alarm. “I don’t have to remind you not to talk about anything you see.”

Luca didn’t even dignify that statement with a response.

#

Luca followed Torres into a house swarming with emergency personnel. A woman handed them disposable shoe covers and a pair of latex gloves. Torres signed them in, and then they entered the room.

Luca reverted to his police training and scanned the space with a detective’s eye. The plethora of spiderwebs and dust-covered surfaces indicated the place was currently unoccupied, as did the stench of mold. Much of the furniture had been covered with canvas tarps.

Halogen lights illuminated the room where the victim had been found. Technicians were combing the space, looking for clues.

Torres addressed a woman examining the corpse, who was wearing gloves and a face shield. “Do you have a timeframe for the murder, Dr. Clyburn?”

“Rough estimate is between eight to thirty-six hours. Lividity is fixed, and the body is cold and stiff.”

Meaning it was still in rigor. Luca knew several factors were used to determine the time of death: algor mortis, or the temperature of death; rigor mortis, the stiffness of death; and liver mortis, or the color of death. A body’s temperature would decrease by one point five degrees an hour until it attained the same conditions as the surrounding environment, but other factors could affect a reading.

“Do you know the time of death for the first victim?” Luca asked Torres.

“She’d been there only a few hours when she was found.”

Luca studied the woman. She had the look of someone who’d lived a hard life. Like the other victim, track marks on her arms signaled prior drug use, and she was almost painfully thin, though not as much so as the previous woman. Her dark hair was stringy and looked brittle. The garish face paint didn’t help.

Luca nudged Torres. “Was the makeup the same on the other victim?” He wasn’t about to admit that he’d already seen the previous crime scene photos, thanks to Tyler. His relationship with Torres was tenuous at the moment. He didn’t want to cut the string.

“Yeah.” He scrolled to a picture on his phone and held it for Luca to see.

“Another deviation from before. Rader had applied it professionally. This looks almost clownish.”

“Maybe that’s how he sees these women,” Torres suggested. “One officer recognized her from being arrested a couple of times, so she’s another prostitute.”

That bothered Luca. Why did Rader switch to using call girls? Before, he chose beautiful, successful women. Maybe he was unfamiliar with the area, and it was easier to pick someone off a street corner, as Torres had said.

Luca realized something. “There’s no lily.”

One of the technicians looked up from where he was snapping pictures. “Yes, there is. They were in her hand, but I removed them after documenting them and taking photos so Dr. Clyburn could work on the victim.”

“They, as in more than one?”

“Yes. There were two red flowers.”

Two kills, two flowers. Most likely not random.

Luca carefully navigated the evidence markers to see around the bed. Sure enough, two lilies were on the ground, blood red in color.

Suddenly, it was crucial that he get to Liliana as soon as possible. He pulled Torres aside. “I need to get back to my rented condo. I know you can’t leave, so I’ll call a car service.”

“No need. I’ll have a uniform drive you back.”

Luca shook his hand. “Keep me posted on the investigation.”

“Will do.”

Chapter Seven

Liliana regretted pushing Luca away. She’d done it before, and it had damn near killed her. She didn’t want to be that weepy, scared girl he’d once known. Through hard work, determination, and sheer grit, she’d toughened her mind and body. All it had taken was one look at Luca, and she’d wanted to beg him to hold her. If she gave up control, she’d crumble into a million tiny pieces. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick them up and put herself back together again.

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