Count to Ten (7 page)

They did, but she’d die before letting him know about it. “I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”

“I suppose you have,” he murmured and stopped at the glass window to the identification room. “Barrington’s busy. We’ll have to wait.”

Mia’s stomach tightened and it had nothing to do with the body on the metal table covered with a sheet. Aidan Reagan stood next to the ME looking at X-rays. He’d see her, there was no escaping it. Abe’s brother would likely be as angry as his wife had been. Aidan turned from the X-rays and immediately frowned, his eyes meeting hers through the glass. He was nodding at something ME Barrington was saying, but he never broke eye contact with her. He came through the door and stopped.

Solliday moved toward the door, but paused when he realized something was brewing. Interested, Solliday looked from Aidan to Mia, those damn dark brows of his lifted. He looked like Satan, for God’s sake. Solliday, not Aidan. Aidan just looked upset.

“Can you give us a minute, Solliday?”

He nodded, obviously still curious. “I’ll wait for you inside.”

She turned to Aidan Reagan. “Kristen already chewed my ass this morning,” she said before he could say a word, “but I’m going to the hospital to see Abe tonight, so if you want to meet me there and take what’s left, be my guest.”

Aidan quietly assessed her face, just as Kristen had done. “Okay. I will.”

His voice was heavy with disappointment. She hated when people were disappointed. And she hated that she hated it. “I have to go.”

“Mia, wait.” He held out his hand, then let it drop to his side. “We were worried.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, Aidan, I fucked up. Somehow I’ll make it up to Abe.” She moved toward the door, but Aidan caught her arm and she sucked in a painful breath.

Instantly he released her. “You still hurt.”

“I’ll live,” she said curtly. “I’m in far better shape than Abe.” Solliday was already talking to the ME. “I really have to go, Aidan.”

Aidan followed her gaze through the window. “Who is that guy?”

“Solliday. He’s with OFI and my new best pal until Abe comes back or we solve his homicide, whichever comes first. Solliday’s fire turned up a body with a bullet.”

Aidan grimaced. “Yeah, I got a glimpse of it. Better you than me, Mia.”

“Gee, thanks.” She pushed past him into the morgue, trying to ignore the odor that always hovered there. It was much worse today. Chemicals combined with the stench of cooked flesh to make her stomach churn. ME Barrington was sliding X-rays onto the light board and Mia forced her mind to switch out of self-pity into detective mode.

The X-rays showed a neat round hole at the base of a skull.

“There’s no exit wound,” Barrington was saying. “The bullet’s still in there, but I can’t guarantee what shape it will be in. Detective Mitchell. Good to see you back.”

“Thanks.” She stared at the X-ray, focusing her thoughts. “Bullet came from a .22?”

“That would be my guess.” Barrington pulled the X-ray down. “No carbon monoxide in her lungs. She died before the fire started.”

“He shot her execution style,” Solliday noted and Bar-ring-ton nodded.

“I found three breaks in one of the leg bones. Two are current. One is healed, the bone set properly, a few years ago at least, so you know she had access to good health care at one time.”

“Her dad’s a cop,” Mia said.

He didn’t blink. Not a damn flicker of emotion. “Well, find out who her dentist was. I’ll get her records and make a formal ID. Until then, she’s a Jane Doe.” The ME walked to a table and carefully pulled back the sheet. Mia took in the sight for a split second. It was all she could manage without losing what little breakfast she’d consumed. It was bad. Worse than she’d expected. Maybe worse than she’d seen before.

Her eyes flashed to Solliday and watched his body go rigid, his skin just a little paler. He’d seen this body before, probably many others just as bad. But it wasn’t revulsion she saw on his face. Just pain.
He has a daughter,
she thought. Young enough to still ground for bad behavior. Thinking that somewhere in the neat suit beat a heart helped her get over her own nausea at the sight of the blackened corpse. She forced herself to look at what remained of a nineteen-year-old girl. She had a job to do.

A macabre blackened face stared up from the gleaming silver of the table. Charred skin stretched tight over her facial bones. A few tufts of hair remained. Blond, like the driver’s license photo Solliday had shown her. She’d been such a pretty girl. So young. She’d been smiling for the DMV’s camera. Now her nose was gone and her mouth was open grotesquely, as if on a final, eternal scream.
What did he do to you, Caitlin?

“Was the victim sexually assaulted?” she asked, her voice steady.

“I can’t tell. If she was, we may never know, but I think there’s a chance she might have been. I found nylon fibers from her clothing melted onto her upper torso, but none below her waist or on her legs. She might have been wearing cotton, but...” He let the thought trail. “I’ll test further, but I’d guess she was only wearing a shirt.”

“Wonderful,” Solliday muttered. “One more thing to tell her parents.”

On this they could agree. “We need to see them,” Mia murmured. “As soon as possible.” She turned away from the charred corpse and closed her eyes for the space of a deep breath. “First the parents, then the crime scene.”

Monday, November 27, 11:00 A.M.

The Burnettes lived in a tidy little house, the kind you’d expect on a cop’s salary. Pretty curtains hung from the windows and a picture of a turkey still covered the door.

Solliday parked his SUV on the street. They’d been silent the better part of the trip as Mia reviewed the notes he’d made of the Dougherty fire scene, but now Solliday’s heavy sigh cut through the silence between them. “You want to lead this?” he asked.

“Sure.” This was the kind of visit she hated most, the kind that made her feel most inept.
I miss Abe.
Her partner always seemed to know what to say to grieving parents. “This could have been a grudge kill or a random stalking. But -Caitlin could have been involved in something. We’ll need to explore possibilities no parent wants to consider.”

“I know,” he said grimly. He wasn’t looking forward to this any more than she was. Mentally she’d reevaluated Reed Solliday. Having made his point, he hadn’t belabored it, instead giving her quiet on the drive over. It allowed her to settle her mind and consider the morning from his point of view. He’d been polite, compassionate. Generous, even. Had circumstances been reversed, she might not have been as nice.

The notes she’d reviewed were concise, his handwriting square and neat. She glanced at his crisply knotted tie and the clean lines of the thin goatee that framed his mouth. His shoes were buffed to a shine. Square and neat. That about summed him up.

But something inside her balked at dismissing him so easily. There was more to this man than met the eye, although what met the eye was really quite nice. He’d given her his umbrella when he thought she was in need. It was... sweet. Unsettled, she focused on his notes. “Three points of origin?”

“Kitchen, bedroom, and living room,” he confirmed. “He meant that house to burn.”

“And for Caitlin’s body to be destroyed.” She slid from the SUV. “I hate these visits.”

“Me, too.”

Fire marshals had to pay these kinds of visits, too. She’d never given it that much thought before. Then again, who knew which was worse—telling a parent their child had been murdered or that they’d died in a fire so severe that their body was no longer recognizable? Either way, it was the part of the job that sucked the very most.

Mia rapped on the door. The blue curtains parted and a pair of eyes peeked out at them, widening when Mia showed her shield. In a few seconds the door opened and a woman in her late forties stood before them, her face already showing signs of panic.

She was small, like the body on the table. “Are you Mrs. Ellen Burnette?”

“Yes.” She turned. “Roger! Roger, come here. Please.”

A burly man appeared in his bare feet, his eyes flickering in fear. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m Detective Mitchell and this is Lieutenant Solliday. May we come in?”

Wordlessly Mrs. Burnette led them into the living room and lowered herself to the sofa. Her husband stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

Mia sat down on the edge of a chair. “We’re here about Caitlin.”

Ellen Burnette flinched as if she’d been slapped. “Oh God.”

Roger Burnette’s hands clenched. “Was there an accident?”

“When was the last time you talked with her?” Mia asked gently.

Burnette glared at Mia, his throat working viciously. She knew he knew the drill. Avoidance meant the very worst. “Friday night.”

“We argued,” Mrs. Burnette murmured. “She went back to the sorority, and we left for my mother’s for the weekend. I tried calling her yesterday, but she wasn’t there.”

Mia steeled her spine. “We have an unidentified body. We believe it’s Caitlin.”

Mrs. Burnette slumped forward, covering her face with her hands. “No.”

Burnette’s hands clutched at empty air, then gripped the sofa. “What happened?”

“Lieutenant Solliday is with the fire marshal’s office. The home of Joe and Donna Dougherty burned to the ground this weekend. We believe Caitlin was in the house.”

Mrs. Burnette was weeping. “Roger.” Numbly, Burnette sat next to his wife.

“She was just supposed to get the mail. Feed the cat. Why couldn’t she get out?”

Mia glanced at Solliday. His face was hard, but his eyes were pained. And he was silent, letting her lead. “She didn’t die as a result of the fire, sir,” she said and watched Mrs. Burnette’s head jerk up. “She was shot. We’re ruling her death a homicide.”

Mrs. Burnette turned into her husband’s arms. “No.”

Burnette’s eyes never left Mia’s as he rocked his wife. “Do you have any leads?”

Mia shook her head. “None yet. I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you some questions. You said Caitlin lived at a sorority. Which one?”

“TriEpsilon,” Burnette said. “They’re good girls.”

That would remain to be seen. “Can you give us the names of her friends?”

“Judy Walters,” he said through his teeth. “Her roommate.”

“Did she have any boyfriends?”

“She did, but they broke up. Joel Rebinowitz.” Burnette’s jaw was tight.

Mia noted it in her notebook. “You didn’t like him, sir?”

“He played around, partied too much. Caitlin had a future.”

Mia tilted her head forward. “You argued on Friday. What about?”

“Her grades,” Burnette said flatly. “She was failing two classes.”

Solliday cleared his throat. “What classes was she failing?”

Burnette looked furiously bewildered. “Statistics, maybe? Hell, I don’t know.”

Mia steadied herself. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Did your daughter have any issues with drugs or alcohol?”

Burnette’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Caitlin didn’t do drugs and she didn’t drink.”

It was what she had expected. “Thank you.” She stood up and beside her Solliday stood as well. She’d saved the worst for last. “We’re going to have to identify the body.”

Burnette lifted his chin. “I’ll go,” he said.

Mia glanced at Solliday, whose face was still stoically expressionless, but his eyes flickered with pity. Mia sighed quietly. “No, sir. We’ll need to use dental records.”

Mrs. Burnette lurched to her feet. She ran to the bathroom and Mia winced at the sound of the poor woman retching. Mr. Burnette came to his feet unsteadily, his face a deathly gray. “I’ll get the name of our dentist.” He made his way to the kitchen stiffly.

Mia followed him. “Sergeant. You’re limping.”

He looked up from a little black phonebook, his face haggard. “I pulled a muscle.”

“On the job?” Solliday asked quietly from behind her.

“Yeah. I was chasing...” His voice drifted away. “Oh my God. This was because of me.” He sank onto a barstool at the counter. “Somebody getting back at me.”

“We don’t know that, Sergeant,” Mia murmured. “We have to ask the questions. You know that. I’ll need names of anyone who’s threatened you or your family.”

His laugh was harsh. “You’ll need more pages than you’ve got in your little book, Detective. My God. This is going to kill my wife.”

Mia hesitated, then gave in and laid her hand on his forearm. “It may have been random. Let us investigate. Now if you’ll get me the name of the dentist, we’ll go.”

“Dr. Bloom. He’s local.” Burnette met Mia’s eyes directly. “Tell me,” he said in a low voice. “Did he...”

Mia hesitated. “We don’t know.”

He looked away, cocking his jaw. “I understand,” he bit out.

Mia leaned forward, snagging his attention again. “No, Sergeant. I mean we really don’t know. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Thank you.” She’d started to move away when he caught her arm hard and it was all she could do not to flinch in pain. But she didn’t, shaken when his eyes filled with tears. “Find the bastard who did this to my baby girl,” he whispered, then let her go.