The Green-Eyed Doll (7 page)

He’d look around somewhere other than Curry tonight. His heart pounded as he laid out his next moves. The new doll would fulfill his every desire. Maybe this one would cooperate. Maybe she wouldn’t make him mad. Maybe he needed to find a new doll. Soon.

Chapter Five

Tuesday, August 1st, 7:15 a.m.

The smell of coffee pulled Matt out of a sound sleep. Still dressed and in his easy chair, he roused himself to investigate. His nose led him to the kitchen, where he found a beautiful redhead cooking eggs.

“Good morning. Did I die and go to heaven?” Her smile wiped away some of his exhaustion.

“You may wish for death before this is over. The local TV ran a story about the murdered woman. I figured you had a rough night and could use a helping of kindness this morning.” She handed him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.” He held the mug under his nose and breathed deeply. “If I make it to heaven, I hope all angels look like you.”

“You probably don’t have time to die, but you might work in a shower before breakfast’s ready.”

“I’m gone.” He hurried through his daily ritual and made it back seconds before Catherine set his loaded plate on the table. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lightly. A simple thank you for being understanding. God, her soft lips were warm, and he struggled against the desire to crush her against his body. He’d forgotten the gentle feel and sweet taste of a woman’s lips. He slid his hand around the back of her neck, cupping her head. Her back stiffened, and her hands pressed against his chest. He quickly moved away.

Her cheeks flushed red, then she smacked her lips. “Minty.”

“It’s not okay to kiss?” Matt found nothing humorous in her attempt to joke. Any hint of intimacy made her uncomfortable. He scared the crap out of her and wanted to know why. “We should talk about this.”

“You need to eat.” She sidestepped him, pointing to his plate. “Sit down. Besides, the real reason I came over this morning is to thank you for the flowers. I’m embarrassed to admit I forgot to tell you sooner.”

“What flowers?” He slid into his chair and stuffed a bite of bacon in his mouth.

“Didn’t you leave me a pot of African Violets the first weekend I was at Emma’s?”

“You’re not taking away my breakfast if I say no, are you? I’ll bet they came from your landlady.”

“There’s not much left to take.” She sat across from him and slid a slice of her bacon onto his plate. “They weren’t from Emma or Marty.”

Matt stopped chewing. “No card?” His curiosity about her fear of intimacy went to the back burner.

“No. I opened my door, and there they sat. Emma, being a romantic at heart. said I had a secret admirer.” She shifted her gaze away. “I thought maybe you’d left them.”

His freshly eaten breakfast backed up on him. “Did you find a florist tag?”

“No. Why?”

“It’s the cop in me coming out. You’d only met...what, a couple of people that first weekend?” Julia Drummond’s blank green eyes flashed through his mind. The need to protect swelled in his chest.

“Let me think...three.” The color slid from Catherine’s face. “You’re scaring me.”

“That’s okay. I’m scaring me too. You need to be extra careful, be aware of your surroundings, and call me if you get any more gifts.”

“I will.”

“Promise me.” Matt’s mind raced with questions. No one mentioned Julia having a secret admirer. Was Catherine the original target? Did the killer go into Julia’s shop to buy flowers for Catherine, then take Julia instead?

“I promise.”

“I’m sorry you had to call Marty last night. I couldn’t leave the Drummond family. When they opened the door...they knew.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t stayed.” She paused and studied his face. “I was right. You do have a John Wayne soul.”

“Not even close. Besides, that’s too heavy a burden to put on a guy. What happens when I disappoint you?” Allowing her to build unreachable fantasies around him would be a mistake.

“What makes you sure you will?”

“John Wayne always played a hero. That’s not me.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Just don’t expect me to be something I’ll never be.” He fidgeted. The chair shrunk. The room shrunk. The air thinned.

“That brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about last night.” Her gaze was steady and unflinching.

“I feel a brush-off coming.” He’d spooked her more than he realized.

She wagged a finger at him as if he were a child. “Not at all. I want to be honest with you. I’m not looking for a forever relationship. However, I think you’ll need a friend if the news story was close to how bad this is.”

He liked her, enjoyed her company, and respected her honesty. She didn’t want things to get serious. Neither did he, so using his best Colgate smile, he said, “I understand and accept your offer of friendship.” He hoped she’d change her mind and want more.

“My independence is important to me. I went straight from my parent’s house to my husband’s.” She paused again, appearing to be deep in thought. “Making the decision to throw caution to the wind and hit the road wasn’t easy. But it was the right one. After eleven months, I’ve discovered if I put my mind to it, I can do anything.”

“Which is why instead of feeling stranded last night, you managed to get home on your own.”

“Right. I’ll figure out a way to pay Marty back.”

“I’m proud of you.” He rose and put his plate in the sink, hating to end their conversation.

“You are?”

“I am. And I never lie.” Her eyes widened and then quickly dropped to a skeptical frown. He believed somebody had lied to her more than once. “Leave the dishes, I’ll wash up later.”

“I should get to work.”

“You can always come back and wash them tonight.” He was serious, but she laughed. He extended his hand. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I cooked. You clean,” she said pointedly.

Matt could’ve told her then and there, he’d never lock the door again if it meant she might be waiting for him. He put out fresh water for the ungrateful, unnamed dog lying under the mesquite tree, and headed to the county morgue while analyzing the tingle in his fingers. Damned if it didn’t happen every time he touched her.

****

Tuesday, Aug 1st, 8:30 a.m.

Matt radioed Sue before he reached the morgue in San Antonio. The long stretch of interstate surrounded by dry, parched land numbed his brain. “I’ll be out of pocket until after the autopsy.”

“Let me know when you’re back on call.”

“You got it.” Matt always checked in with Sue, yet she never failed to remind him to call.

“Is there anything I can do from this end?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Drummond insisted on making a visual identification this morning. Doc’s going to try and close her eyes.” Matt’s chest ached for Julia. “After they get back to Curry, you might check on them. See if they need anything.”

“Hmmph.” Sue huffed out a sound of disbelief. “A sheriff with a heart. That’s a new concept in this county. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Can you call the florist shops in Curry and Butte Crest. Get me the name and address of anyone who bought African Violets in the past two weeks. Jake needs to find out if Julia Drummond mentioned having a secret admirer to anyone.”

“Have you learned something?”

“Too soon to say. I need to know if Julia had a stalker.”

“I’m on it. Stay in touch.”

“You got it.”

Though he wasn’t required to attend, the autopsy was important to Matt. He wasn’t taking any chances with this case. Each individual scrap of evidence would be vital for the prosecution of Julia’s killer.

Matt signed in and was escorted further back into the building where Mr. and Mrs. Drummond waited with an ME’s assistant. Julia’s mother collapsed into her husband’s arms when the curtain slid back and revealed her daughter’s face. Matt swallowed a couple of times to control the ache in his chest. Dr. Reinhardt had worked a miracle, because through the glass, Julia’s eyes appeared to be closed.

After helping the Drummonds to their car, Matt followed the assistant to the back of the building where the ME and his team would perform the autopsy. Matt’s shirt clung to him, damp from the heat and humidity. Cold air and a musty, dank smell slammed into him when he entered.

“Sheriff. Have a seat on the stool and we’ll get started.” Dr. Reinhardt's receding hairline, short legs and perpetual scowl reminded Matt of the detective who'd trained him. One he'd liked and respected. The ME passed him a smock and latex gloves. Even though he wouldn’t touch the body, there were strict protocols to follow.

The doc’s back had a permanent stoop. Matt wondered if years of bending over the autopsy table had caused it.

Today was about the business of death. There’d be no small talk, no chitchat. The ME turned on the recorder before he read the deceased’s identification and case ID number out loud. Thus, the forensic investigation into what lead up to and ended Julia Drummond’s life began.

Matt blocked out his anger and focused on the sound of Reinhardt’s voice. The killer had washed the body, making the ME’s search for biological evidence such as hair, saliva, and semen difficult. A Y-STR analysis would target male DNA, in case some small clue remained.

Finally, Reinhardt backed away from the table and directed his assistants to complete the last few details. They stripped off their gear and walked in silence to the ME’s office.

“I was right in my initial assumption.” Dr. Reinhardt closed the door and sat behind his desk. “TOD was last Sunday between ten and midnight. The young woman died...”

“Julia. She had a name. It was Julia Drummond.” Anger heated, boiled, and scorched his insides. Matt wanted, needed to punch something.

Dr. Reinhardt paused. “Sit down, Matt. I know her name. You have your method of coping, and I have mine.”

Matt rubbed his hand across his eyes and sat with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Doc. Go ahead.”

“COD was asphyxiation by choking, her hyoid bone was crushed. From the purple bruises on her throat, which were evident when we removed the two-inch wide ribbon from her neck, I’d say your killer has strong hands. As you know, choking is not an easy way to kill a person, contrary to the way TV portrays it. Based on the different stages of healing, she was beaten across her back, buttocks, and legs at different intervals. The welts indicate a long thin object. I’ll let you know if we identify what made the marks.”

“Any idea what caused the abrasions on her wrists and ankles?”

“My guess is a form of tape. I took scrapings to send to the lab.”

“I’ll tell her family she was treated with dignity and respect by you and your team.”

The ME pinched the bridge of his nose. “One last thing, and it’s most disturbing.”

“Are you saying she was raped? I assumed as much.”

The doc waved his hand in the air, dismissing the observation. “Based on the bruising on her inner thighs and vaginal tearing, I’d say numerous times. No semen. What troubles me the most—” Dr. Reinhardt hesitated. “The layers of makeup had been applied both pre and post-mortem. Her eyelids were glued open after death.”

Dr. Reinhardt might as well been speaking in a foreign tongue. A tornado must’ve sucked Matt into its vortex and spit him out into an alien world.

“Matt?”

Lost in a void, it took him a second to respond. He repeated Reinhardt’s words. “Julia Drummond was kidnapped, had her face made up, was beaten, and sexually assaulted a number of times. The bastard strangled her to death, which by itself was no easy feat. Then he washed her body, glued her eyes open, and applied more makeup?”

The ME nodded. “Correct. This behavior is deeply disturbing. My office will be at your disposal, for anything...anytime. You’ll get toxicology and DNA reports. With the backlog at the county lab,” he shrugged, “these tests take time.”

The air left Matt’s lungs. For a few seconds, he didn’t seem to be able to refill them. “The sick son-of-a-bitch.”

“I would say so.”

Matt leveled his gaze on the ME. “I’d like to keep the information about the postmortem glue and makeup from the public.”

“I’ll brief my staff.” Reinhardt escorted Matt to the exit and shook his hand. “And I’ll personally track each piece of forensic evidence. Nothing will be compromised.”

Outside, Matt sat in his cruiser lost in thought. The sweltering August heat, the kind that filled his lungs with hot air, soaking his body in sweat, went completely ignored.

A press conference could make things worse if the killer wanted recognition. But how could he not warn the public, especially women? He radioed Sue to let her know he’d headed back. He wanted to meet with his deputies before he spoke with the local news people. If he handled it right, he could use the media’s eyes and ears to his advantage.

****

Tuesday, August 1st, 5:15 p.m.

Catherine had rehashed the morning a dozen times by the end of the day. Matt’s early morning kiss warned her. He wanted her. That was surprise enough, but the fire he ignited in her belly scared the crap out of her. She wanted him. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She felt something way past want. Her body needed him. Needed with a passion that was painful. Needed his hands to touch her. Needed his body joined with hers. That knowledge was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

She’d grown to dread having sex with Andy. A word, a bad day, cold mashed potatoes—it didn’t take much to make him angry. The first two years of their marriage, his abuse had been verbal. Everything changed after he joined his father’s law firm. He’d become physical. Violent. Afterwards, he’d explain to her how the whole thing was her fault. Without fail, he’d demanded make-up sex. Like that made everything all right. Her hand slipped behind her and rubbed her right kidney, Andy’s favorite place to hit her. A queasy sensation rolled into a knot in her belly.
Stop it.
He can’t hurt you anymore.

Matt’s hands were tender. His touch was gentle. He’d lit a fire she thought burned out long ago. Her inner voice pulled her back to reality.
He’s a cop.
By nature a curious breed.
What if he started poking around in her background?