Page 22 of Missing Justice
The sisters, as they were known, a forensic psychologist turned private eye and a sculptor, liked to dabble in cold cases in their down time. They’d become an unofficial resource for law enforcement officials with stalled cases. Whether they didn’t have the manpower, the expertise, or the budget, for whatever reason, these cases sat unsolved. At least until the sisters got involved.
With this particular case, the sheriff had a skull and seventy percent of the victim’s bones, which he turned over to the sisters. Meg went to work on the skull and bones while Charlie studied the case file.
Matt gestured to the skull. “Do I need to do anything with this case yet?”
Meg shook her head. “Not yet. Once I finish here, we’ll send out bulletins. See if anyone recognizes her. Poor thing.”
“Any hits from NaMus?”
NaMus, the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System was a database developed by the Justice Department to improve the information available on missing persons and human remains.
“Nothing,” Meg said. “Whoever she is, her family hasn’t reported her missing.”
And that, Matt knew, was a deal-breaker for Meg. Having an intensely close relationship with her family, Meg couldn’t stand the idea of someone not being loved enough to be declared missing.
Matt? His years growing up around cops, listening to the war stories, and then his time as a homicide detective had hardened him to this sort of thing. The shitty truth was there were people that no one gave a damn about.
He’d learned early on if he got emotionally invested, the torment would destroy him.
Meg hadn’t learned that lesson yet. Maybe she never would. Who knew?
Matt boosted off the credenza. “Let me know what you need from me.”
Charlie appeared in the doorway. She wore black slacks and a gray blouse that blended with the wall color. The overhead light glinted across her dark red hair and, unlike her sister, her blue eyes were sharp, the makeup around them perfectly applied.
The sisters. Such a puzzle.
“Hey,” Matt said.
“Hi.” She propped one shoulder against the doorframe. “How are things with the senator?”
“I suggested he get his lawyer involved. Now that they have a body—or at least bones—the feds are gonna look hard at him.”
Meg stopped messing with her sculpture and waved the carving tool she’d picked up. “Charlie, have we heard from your guy at the ME’s office?”
“Not yet. What about your FBI contact?”
Having consulted on missing persons cases for the feds, Meg had earned a few favors from inside the Hoover building. Favors she never minded calling in.
“He confirmed the remains are Felicity.”
This information wasn’t a shock. Not with what he’d learned while at the senator’s with Taylor. Whom he owed a text. Or better yet, a call because, case or no case, he’d spent a good portion of the night wide awake, imagining all the places he’d like to have sex with her. Imagining that mouth against his ear, once again telling him all the ways she wanted him to fuck her. Ooh-eee, the woman was wicked.
Thoughts of Taylor and her filthy mouth and amazing legs stirred him up, and God help him if he got a hard-on in front of the sisters.
He brought his focus back to the senator and his dead wife. “Not surprised. They found her rings with the bones. What about the baby?”
“Nothing on him.”
Damn. Matt ran a hand over his face and reminded himself not to get caught up. But kids—babies, for fuck’s sake—did him in. Children couldn’t defend themselves and any crime, anything against a child, froze his blood.
At the time of her disappearance, Felicity had been eight months pregnant and about to give her husband a child.
“Which means,” Matt said, “the feds are probably at the site searching for him. Do we know how shallow the grave was? If whoever buried her didn’t go deep enough—”
Meg put her hand up. She didn’t want to hear about animals getting to the remains. He couldn’t blame her.
“They’re out there now. Everyone available is on it. Hopefully, they’ll find him. There’s something else.”
