Page 32 of Marked

I glance down at my forearm. The gash healed enough so that it only needed a Band-Aid to cover it. “Good. My feet still have some scratches and scabs, but they’re tolerable.” I eye the folder in his hand and gesture at the seat Taylor vacated. “What do you have for me?”

“Looks like we have a DNA match to our vic,” he explains as he takes a seat and opens the file on my desk. “The FBI database came back with a Samuel G. North. It’s a strong match for paternity.”

I pick up the mug shot of the older male. “Why was his DNA in the database?”

“He was once a suspect in a murder case, believe it or not.” Jack pulls out another paper from the file and hands it to me. “Better yet, I did some searching and found out his biological daughter is Janelle N. North.”

Taking the paper from him, I study the image of the young woman. “Let me guess, she’s been missing?”

“For almost three months,” he agrees. “I wanted to wait until you were in to start making phone calls.”

I nod and look at the image again. The girl is stunning. Her dark skin is smooth, eyes soft and full of life. Her black hair falls in braids around her slim but strong shoulders. Such a waste of a beautiful life. I set the paper down on my desk and lightly run my finger over the printed image. “What’s the first call?”

Jack reaches across my desk and hesitates briefly before putting his hand over mine. “We’ll get justice for her,” he states like he can read my mind. When I nod once again, he squeezes my hand. “See? You’re good.”

My brows furrow as I look at him again. “What?”

“You care,” Jack explains simply then removes his hand so he can rifle through the papers again. “Looks like she was officially marked as missing from Hastings, Nebraska on June 12th. She was last seen at her place of employment, The Platform Strip Club.”

“Nebraska?” Moving to my computer I go to the browser and pull up a quick map of the states. “That’s three states over! So now the question is if she was murdered in her state or not.”

He pursues his lips together as he thinks. “You’d think someone would have seen a dead body being transported across all the state lines.”

“Not if it’s stashed away in a trunk.” Shaking my head, I reach for my desk phone. “Well, I guess we need to actually confirm that our victim is her first. We can go from there.”

Jack slides the paper over to me, pointing at the sheriff’s number for the Hastings police department. I dial out the number and put it on speaker so Jack can contribute to the conversation.

“This is Wallace Anderson.”

“Hello, Sheriff Anderson, I’m Detective Val Dalton from the Las Vegas Preternatural Crime Unit. Do you have a moment to talk about one of your cases?”

There’s a brief beat of silence before he speaks again. “Pardon, did you say Preternatural Crime Unit?”

“I did,” I agree. “I believe my partner and I may have found one of your missing persons. Do you have a minute?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, give me one second to get my computer going.” We glance at each other as the sound of shuffling papers comes through the speaker followed by a series of keyboard clicks. “You all have your own department for monsters?”

I blink at the disbelief in his tone. “Yes,” I begin. “We’re one of the many police departments taking part in the new division.”

“A lot of the larger populated cities are creating the unit,” Jack adds. “I know Los Angeles is in talks with the city council about it.”

“Oh,” Anderson says with a small tinge of disgust. “I guess that makes sense.”

I shoot Jack an eye roll. “Yes, so, the case.”

“Right,” he grumbles into the phone as he taps on his keyboard some more. “Okay, what do you have for me?”

“Well, we have a Jane Doe in our morgue, and I think she might be one of your missing persons. Her prints aren’t in the system, so we had to run some of her DNA through the FBI database. We had a familial match and traced her back to your town. Does the name Janelle North ring a bell?”

“You found Janelle?” He’s just as surprised as we are. “In Las Vegas?”

“We believe so, but we can’t be certain without more information from you.” Jack cuts in. “We found her missing person’s flier online, but we can’t actually match our Jane Doe to the pictures.”

“I-is she beat up that bad?” Anderson whispers.

I shake my head, even though I know he can’t see it. “No, Sheriff. Her head is missing entirely.” The line goes silent, and I frown at Jack. “Sheriff?”

“What do you mean her head is missing?”

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