Page 8 of Tell Me Your Desires
Max shook his head. “They found her purse tossed in the alley. Money, credit cards, and ID were still in there.”
Jaime stood. “Checks with the others. Nothing of theirs was taken either.”
“Just their lives.”
Jaime winced. “Right.” The MO was checking out. A brutally violent death, an overly sexual pose, and nothing stolen. Except for their lives. But what did this young woman have in common with the others? “Where’s the purse?”
Max nodded at the crime scene investigators. “CSI has it. They won’t let?—”
Jaime didn’t stick around to hear what CSI would and wouldn’t let her do. She was going to look at the contents of that purse before anyone else put their hands on it. Jaime thought about the other cases as she made her way over to the investigators. They were all weighing on her conscience.
The first was a forty-eight-year-old woman with light skin, brown eyes, and brown hair. Well-groomed, affluent… educated. In fact, their investigation showed the woman, Mary McCall, was a well-known chef in Vegas. Mary resided in Vegas, but her body was found in Reno. Jaime’s domain.
Victim number two, Julie Brewer, was a thirty-five-year-old Reno resident. She had dark skin, grey hair, and brown eyes. They checked. There was no evidence that Julie had ever met Mary or gone to Mary’s restaurant in Vegas. They didn’t run in the same circles. They weren’t even in the same tax bracket. Yet, they both had their lives cut short by the same person. Jaime was sure of that.
The third victim, Brenda Barrera, was a fifty-six-year-old retired personal trainer. She had olive skin, black hair, and hazel eyes. While Brenda lived comfortably, nothing in the investigation showed she knew any of the other victims. Not professionallyorpersonally. Still, she was killed in the same fashion as the others.
Victim number four, Veronica Paul, was forty-five. She had blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She worked as a real estate agent in Reno and the surrounding area. Jaime’s investigation showed no contact with any of the other victims. They weren’t clients or friends. Veronica’s family said that despite Veronica’s occupation, she was an introvert, preferring to spend time at home by herself rather than out with friends or a companion.
“Hey! I need to see those contents!” Jaime yelled, running toward a technician withCSIprinted on the back of his jacket.
“We’re taking them in to be processed.”
“Yeah, I get that. But I need to look at them first.”
“Sorry, they’ve already been bagged. We can’t break the chain of custody.”
The young tech walked away, and Jaime grabbed him by the arm.
“Listen, you can stand there and watch me look at this stuff. I don’t give a fuck. But Iamgoing to look at it. This is the fifth murder like this, and if there’s something in there that can help me solve this….”
“We’ll find it if there is,” the tech said with an attitude.
Jaime was done with this. Women were dying. She didn’t give a shit what this glorified lackey wanted to do. She just wanted tolookat the contents. “Give me the fucking bag, you little prick. Or I’ll make sure this is the last crime scene you’re ever on.”
“Y-you can’t do that.”
Not so fucking pompous now, are you, you fucking unfrosted pop tart.“I can. And Iwill. How long have you been on the job, kid?”
“Six months.”
Jaime snorted with laughter. “And you’re already this self-important? It usually takes CSI at least nine months.” She took a menacing step toward him. This probably would have been easier if she had been nice about it. But this was the fifth murder from some maniac that’d had the ability to remain at large. She held her hand out and wiggled her fingers. “I’m not going to mess with your precious baggies, okay? I just need a quick look at the contents, then you can be on your merry little way.”
The tech sighed. “Fine, but you have to hurry.” He looked over his shoulder before handing Jaime the evidence.
Jaime shook the baggy to situate everything so she could see them. There were three credit cards, a driver’s license, and a set of car keys. Of course, there were all the other essentials women carried with them. Makeup, lipstick, chewing gum.
“Maisie Freeman.” Jaime shook her head. What was this young woman doing at a place like this? “Did you find her clothes?”
“Not yet. They’re checking the dumpsters in the area. Could you hurry, please? My supervisor is going to give me shit for this.”
“Is it Mundy?” The tech nodded. “Don’t worry about it. He owes me.” Jaime flipped the bag again, and a pop of red jumped out at her. She maneuvered the bag to get a better look. It was abusiness card. No phone number or contact info. Only a name. “Lady A,” she muttered. “Hey, Max!”
Jaime beckoned Max over with a wave of the arm. Something about this card tickled her senses, but she wasn’t sure why. She glanced at the building again. Did this “Lady A” work here? Was the card Maisie’s, or was it simply something she had just picked up off the ground?
“What’s up? Find something?”
“Not sure.” Jaime turned the card toward Max. “Does this look familiar to you?”
