Page 25 of Never Stay Gone
“No, we didn’t. She’d been with her fiancé for years. Did you find any evidence of drugs in anyone’s system?”
“Tox hasn’t come back yet. It will be difficult to find anything that might be onboard in Serrano or Doe five. Oh, and—” Dr. Trevino took another long drag on her ever-present cigarette. “Jessica Klein was pregnant. About twenty-six weeks.”
Dakota’s jaw dropped. He thought back to Odessa, to the night she went missing. Rewound his memories and played them again. Jessica, deputy chief of staff for the Odessa office. In charge of West Texas operations for Amanda’s nascent presidential campaign. He wasn’t involved in politics, but he’d been there in his Ranger capacity, contact point for security and LEO operations for the announcement event. He’d talked to Jessica a dozen times in the lead-up to the rally. He’d never noticed a baby bump. “I don’t remember seeing—”
“She carried the baby high, and she carried pregnancy weight well. It was her first and she was young. Plus, decomposition hid a lot. She’d… shrunk by the time you pulled her out of the grave. Even with her nude, I didn’t notice the bump. Not until I got the X-rays back. Imagine my surprise.” Dr. Trevino hesitated. “Why didn’t you know, Ranger? I assume you’ve spoken to the family. A pregnancy of this length would be difficult to conceal from her fiancé.”
“That’s a good question, Doc. I’m goin’ to have to call that man of hers in for another chat.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll call you as soon as I have anything more. Give me twenty-four hours for the tox report, and if we’re lucky, I’ll have more identifications for you by then.”
“Thanks, Doc. Appreciate it. I’ll buy you dinner the next time I’m in El Paso.”
“Just doing my job, Ranger Jennings. But I’m always up for good company and fajitas.”
He hung up after thanking Dr. Trevino again and then sat in Shane’s driver’s seat for a long moment. He stared out the windshield, following the bend of the road as it curved through the sunbaked desert. Gramma grass grew in golden tufts between the meandering creosote. A rawboned honey mesquite broke up the rambling vista.
A whole lot of nowhere for someone to hide six bodies.
He closed out of the photos and shut Shane’s laptop. He could still see the tips of Shane’s boots in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t moved.
Dakota slid out of the truck and walked slowly back to Shane. He made sure his boots crunched on the gravel, giving Shane time to collect himself.
Shane looked at him as he came around the tailgate. Dakota tried to smile. Shane still looked like shit. Exhausted and wan. Dakota lowered himself to the ground, and they sat in the wind, the sun over their shoulders casting twin shadows from their boots and their hats.
If Dakota moved his hand, his shadow would caress the shadow of Shane’s cheek. He rubbed his hands down his jeans and looked away.
“This is my first murder investigation,” Shane finally croaked. “The bodies we usually recover… they’re the unlucky ones coming up from the border. The ones who didn’t make it. The last murder we had in Big Bend…” He huffed out a breath. “It was before my time.”
Dakota nodded. “I was assigned to cold case homicide right off when I joined the Rangers. Those ones are usually…” He shrugged. “Well, they’re not pretty.”
Shane pushed on the half-empty bottle of water. Plastic crinkled as it dented. “I didn’t think this would be my life,” Shane breathed.
Dakota went so still, so fast, it felt like an arctic wave had blown through the desert. His jaw clenched, and he glared at an ocotillo wavering on the wind.Whose fault is that, he wanted to snap.If you had—
He pushed to his feet, anger making him jerky, making his hands shake. He turned his back on Shane and brushed off his jeans. “I gotta find Amber Serrano’s associates,” he said over his shoulder. He couldn’t look at Shane. Not after he said that. “And I gotta talk to Jessica’s fiancé again.”
“I spoke to him yesterday to give him the death notification. He said he’d drive in if we needed anything.”
“Call him,” Dakota snapped. “I need to talk to him face-to-face. Today. Get him down here.”
He heard Shane climb to his feet, moving slowly, both hands on the truck as he pulled himself up. That goddamn knee. Dakota bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard enough he tasted blood.
“Would you fill me in on what I missed?” Shane asked. “After I…”
Was he seriously… Thirteen years, and now Shane wanted to know—
No, that’s not what he was asking. Dakota clamped down on his runaway imagination. Of course Shane wasn’t asking about Dakota. He never had. He never would.
Dakota nodded to the truck’s cab, and he and Shane walked there, lingering outside the open driver’s door. The wind made the door shiver, made the bolts squeal and whine. Dakota ran Shane through a summary of Dr. Trevino’s findings: six bodies, with maybe or maybe not a pattern of one murder every thirty days. Two killed at the same time. Chronologically, they were the second and third of the recent kills, with Amber Serrano being the first. Fourth, Libby Lynn. Then Jessica Klein.
Where did the decade-old bones dumped in the bottom of the grave, with grave dirt from the other side of Texas deep in their crevices and cracks, fit in? What was that about? Why would someone dig up a buried body and rebury it in a desert grave with five other women?
Why the ten years between those remains and Amber, Libby, Jessica, and the two other Jane Does?
Why was one Jane Doe mutilated? To rip out every tooth, cut off every finger and toe, set fire to the body… Someone didn’t want that woman identified. Why? Who was she? What did she mean to the killer?
Shane was pale again when Dakota finished. He leaned against the truck and stared at the ground. “What do we do now?” he asked.
