Love You More: A Novel (49 page)

Holder tries to help, making more of a mess.

Hold picks up the box, she takes it.

He moves to the other side of the desk. Starts unpacking his own box.

Beat. She continues to clean up, not interested in engaging.

Holder shoots a ball into a hoop/trash can. Sarah smiles grudgingly.

He’s glancing at one of Sarah’s files. CLOSE ON gruesome crime scene PHOTO of an ADDICT — white, trashy, fatty (think Courtney Love) — cut ear to ear. Beneath, a SKETCH: a lonely grove of trees on the sand. Beautiful.

Sarah takes the sketch. Puts it away. Holder waits for more. None coming. Fort Knox this woman.

LT. OAKES — 50s, soft touch for Sarah — enters.

Oakes hands her a PAPER.

Reluctantly, Sarah grabs her coat and a box—

As Sarah and Holder exit, boxes in tow, Holder shuts the door with his foot.

EXT. DOWNTOWN SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT - DAY

Transition.

INT/EXT. SARAH’S CAR - DAY

Sarah drives, Holder yaks. Wipers flipping across the rain-soaked windshield. Squat factories — abandoned, graffii-marred — slide past their windows.

Holder shoots her an amused look.

Holder looks at her, waiting for more. No luck. They stop at a light.

On the sidewalk, a TEEN RUNAWAY — 16, male, filthy dreads, kindly face — slouches numbly against a monstrous duffel bag. Rain drizzling down.

Holder presses two fingers against the glass: “Peace”. The Teen Runaway lazily sticks up his middle finger: “Fuck you”.

Holder grins, gives him the finger back. As they pull away—

She doesn’t even look at him. Off which—

EXT. SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT FROM A DISTANCE - DAY

Transition.

EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - FIELD - DAY

Sarah drives down the fire road, pulling up to the scene. A scattering of UNIFORMS in a desolate field, woods in the near distance, lonely fire road. Rain abated for now.

Exiting their car, Sarah and Holder make there way to the scene and are approached by a young, UNIFORM in charge—

He hands a clear Evidence BAG to Sarah — inside a shimmery pink SWEATER. Torn, blood-smeared.

He holds out a baggie: inside, a bank CARD. Imprinted on the front: “STANLEY LARSEN”. Holder takes it—

ON Sarah as she steps away from Holder and the Uni, surveys the field — taking it in.

She heads to the car. Holder, surprised, follows—

Sarah, impatient, checks her watch.

Holder grins, walks ahead.

Sarah clocks something on the back of his neck, peeking above his collar: a TATTOO. The top of an ornate CRUCIFIX. Sarah, curious, follows.

With all due respect to Detective D. D. Warren, my favorite part of embarking on a new novel isn’t spending time with old characters, but rather, researching new and inventive ways to commit murder and mayhem. Oh, and, um, also spending quality time with law enforcement professionals who remind me why a life of crime really isn’t a good idea, and thus I should continue to hope the whole writing gig pans out.

For
Love You More
, I got to fulfill one of my lifelong dreams of conducting research at the University of Tennessee Anthropology Research Facility, aka the Body Farm. I am deeply indebted to Dr. Lee Jantz, who is one of the smartest people I know, working one of the coolest jobs on the planet. She can look at a pile of cremated bones and tell you within thirty seconds pretty much everything about the person, including gender, age, chronic health issues, and what kind of dental floss he/she used. I had many moments with Dr. Jantz I would’ve liked to have put in the novel, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me.

Readers interested in morbid things like decomp, identifying
skeletal remains, and post-mortem insect activity should absolutely check out
Death’s Acre
, by Dr. Bill Bass, creator of the Body Farm, and coauthor Jon Jefferson. You can also visit my Facebook page for photos from my very informative research trip.

Oh, this is the part where I add anthropologists are trained professionals, whereas I just type for a living, meaning all mistakes in the novel are mine and mine alone. Plus, just as an FYI, I would never accuse Dr. Jantz, who has a T-shirt reading
Don’t piss me off—I’m running out of places to hide the bodies
, of having made a mistake.

I am also deeply indebted to Cassondra Murray, Southern/Western Kentucky Canine Rescue & Recovery Task Force, for her insights into training cadaver dogs and life as a volunteer dog handler. I had no idea that most canine SAR teams are volunteer organizations. These groups and their dogs do amazing work, and we are indebted to them for their hard work, dedication, and sacrifice.

Again, all mistakes are mine, so don’t even think about it!

Next up: Officer Penny Frechette, as well as several other female police officers who preferred to remain off the record. I appreciate the time and candor shared by these women, and enjoyed my first ride-along in a police cruiser. I was nervous! She was not. For those of you into police procedure, my character Tessa Leoni’s experiences are an amalgamation of different jurisdictions, and not necessarily representative of the life of a Massachusetts State Trooper. The Massachusetts State Police is a fine, upstanding organization and I appreciate their patience with suspense authors who exercise plenty of fictional license.

Under other nerve-wracking and noteworthy experiences, I must thank Superintendent Gerard Horgan, Esquire, and Assistant Deputy Superintendent Brian Dacey, both of the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department for a fun-filled day at the Suffolk County Jail. It’s not every day I drive all the way to Boston just to be incarcerated, but boy did I learn a lot (basically, stick to writing fictional crimes, because let me tell you, I wouldn’t last a day behind bars). They showed me a first-class operation. I, of course, used the facility for yet more murder and mayhem, because hey, that’s what I do best.