Dead Ringer (15 page)

Two
women strangled. The press would be all over this case.
The
press.
Kendall. Damn.

Sunday, January 13, 10:00
A.M.

The
trek across town on I-64 took Jacob twenty minutes. He took Exit 195 and
continued east on Laburnum. Soon he spotted the blue lights of the squad cars
flashing next to a convenience store called Ned's. He parked behind the
county's white forensics van. From his trunk he grabbed rubber gloves.

Ned's
was a one-story building covered in vertical siding painted a muddy red. In a
large picture window hung signs for beer, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. The
parking lot was crushed gravel. The officers had closed the store and driven
off morning patrons.

Jacob
walked up to the young officer who stood by the yellow crime scene tape,
huddled in his jacket, his face pointed down away from the wind.
"Officer."

The
young guy stuck out his hand.
"Detective Warwick."

"Where's
the body?"

He
stamped his feet to stimulate the circulation in them.
"By
the Dumpster.
Hasn't been there long."

Jacob
frowned. "How do you know that?"

"Ned,
the owner of the store, said when he opened the store at five she wasn't there.
But when he went outside to dump stock boxes at nine-thirty she was."

"He
see
anything?"

"Said no.
But he was rattled.
Said he
needed a cigarette."

"I'll
talk to him later. Make sure he doesn't leave."

"Will do."

Jacob
rounded the corner and saw Tess. She was snapping pictures of the victim. "Can
I come closer?"

She
didn't stop shooting. "Sure. You know the drill."

He
ducked under the tape and moved toward the body as he put on rubber gloves. The
dead woman lay curled on her side, her knees drawn up by her chest. She wore
ragged hip-hugging jeans, black boots with heels, and a tight sweater that
accentuated her breasts. Her leather jacket hugged her midsection and looked
like it was designed for fashion, not warmth. Dark hair was cut short with
purple and red streaks tinting the strands.

This
woman was the polar opposite of Jackie White. "What about her neck and wrists?"

Tess
squatted. She lifted the cuff of the victim's jacket. Red marks marred the pale
skin of her wrist. Then Tess pushed back the woman's hair. Bruises indicating
strangulation appeared.

"Shit,"
he muttered.

"Yeah,"
Tess said.

"We
have ourselves a guy who likes to hold women and then strangle them."

She
straightened. "But I can tell you she hasn't been dead long. Liver temp was
ninety-one degrees."

"About
five hours?"

"That's
right." The first victim had died late Sunday.

"Turn
her face so I can see it."

Tess
gently turned the woman's head to reveal pale skin, high cheekbones, and full
lips. "She looks a lot like the first one."

Jacob
expelled a breath.
And Kendall Shaw.
"Yeah."

He
spotted a glint of gold around the victim's neck. It was a gold chain. "See the
chain?"

Tess
pushed back the leather jacket. Resting on the woman's chest above her breasts
was a charm like the one worn by the first victim. It read
Judith
.

Jacob's
gut tightened as he scribbled the name in his notebook.
"Any
ID on her?"

"No."

Her
ID was missing.
Dark hair.
A charm.
"Bet money her name isn't Judith."

Tess
shook her head. "I'm not taking that bet."

Bells
above Nicole's head jingled as she pushed through the front door of the coffee
shop. A blast of warm air greeted her and she was grateful to be out of the
wind.

The
coffee shop was small. One look and anyone could see it wasn't part of a chain.
Quirky furniture--round tables covered with shellacked postcards and chairs that
didn't match--and a collection of old Virginia license plates on the wall. The front
counter sported a cash register and a glistening display case filled with
cookies and tarts. The tables were full of patrons.

Behind the counter stood a teenaged girl with
blue hair and a nose ring.
Nicole had learned on her last trip here that the girl was an art
student at Virginia Commonwealth University.

"Hey,
Ceylon," Nicole said. "How goes it?"

Ceylon
smiled. "Excellent.
The usual?"

"I'll
take
a biscotti
today along with the tea."

"Living
dangerously, I see." She put a bag of green tea into a porcelain cup, poured
hot water over it, and with a napkin in hand grabbed
a
biscotti
.

Nicole
handed her a five. "I don't know what's up. I can't seem to stop eating this
week."

Ceylon
gave Nicole her change. "The kid is growing."

Nicole
dumped a dollar in the tip jar. "I suppose."

Ceylon
nodded as if she were the authority. "My mom has had eight kids. She ate
whatever wasn't nailed down."

"Did
she lose all her baby weight?"

Ceylon
rolled her eyes.
"Oh, no."

Being
saddled with extra weight didn't sit well with Nicole. She wanted her body
back.
Wanted her life back as soon as possible.

Still,
her stomach grumbled and she knew she'd eat every bite of her cookie. The place
hadn't cleared out a bit and no tables had opened up. Everyone seemed content
to stay hidden from the cold.
Looked like she'd be sitting in
her car.

"Nicole
Piper."

The
deep male voice had her turning. A man with blond hair rose from his chair. He
was a cop. She'd met him last summer but the name escaped her. That was another
thing she wanted back--the other half of her brain that had gone into
hibernation sometime during the second trimester.

She
smiled, digging through her memory for a name. "Hi."

His
smile was rich and warm, signaling he knew she couldn't recall his name. "David
Ayden."

Color
rose in her cheeks. "Sorry. My memory isn't so great these days."

"Would
you like to join me?" He had a relaxed smile. "Tables are at a premium."

Her
knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Her late husband's brutality had done that to
her. "I don't want to intrude."

"The
tables are full and I'm killing time waiting for my son." He moved around the
table and pulled out the chair. "Sit. Please."

If
she refused she'd look silly or ungrateful. And after all, the guy wasn't
asking her to marry him. He was just offering her a seat. "Sure. Thanks."

She
set her tea and cookie down on the table across from his black coffee and
neatly folded newspaper. He held the back of her seat. She cupped her belly and
eased into the seat. His attention made her feel oddly pampered. It had been a
long time since anyone had held her chair for her.

Ayden
was dressed in a dark turtleneck and faded jeans. She guessed his age to be
about forty but he was fitter than most men half his age. A well-worn wedding
band winked on his left ring finger. Her memory was coming back in bits and
pieces. Ayden was a widower.
Had a couple of kids.
Boys, if she remembered.

"So
what brings you down here?" he asked.

"I
come in here at least once a week."

Sipping
his coffee, he sat back in his chair, his body relaxed. He was comfortable in
his own skin.

Nicole
dunked her tea bag, amazed that she felt at a loss for words. That wasn't like
her. She could carry on a conversation with anyone. Making people relax and
feel comfortable was part of being a good photographer. "Do you come here
often?"

"First time.
My son is taking a one-day S.A.T. prep course
at the university. He should be finishing up in the next twenty minutes or so."

"S.A.T.
So he's looking at colleges?"

Pride
shone in his eyes. "We plan to start driving around the state this spring and
looking at a few colleges."

"That
must be exciting."

"For him.
Frankly, it makes me feel old. I remember when
his mother was pregnant with him."

She
shifted. There was no escaping this pregnancy. "Time flies."

He
frowned, sensing her unease.
"Everything all right?"

She
traced the rim of her cup with her finger. "I just get a little weird when
people mention my pregnancy." She glanced down at her belly. "But when your
stomach is the size of a barn, it's kind of hard for people not to talk about
it."

"Everything all right with the baby?"

"Oh,
yes. She's fine," she rushed to say. A sudden weight bore down on her chest.
And suddenly, the words tumbled out. "I'm thinking about giving her up for
adoption. I'm not sure if I can be the kind of mother she deserves."

There
was no judgment in Ayden's gray eyes, just a hint of sadness. "Have you chosen
a family?"

"No,"
she said. "And I know I need to make a decision soon." Emotion threatened to
overwhelm her and she sipped her tea, hoping it would calm her. "Sorry. I
didn't mean for this to turn into a therapy session."

A
warm smile curved the edges of his lips. "You're fine. Were you working today?"

God
bless him for changing the subject. "Yes. I was taking head shots for a client.
In fact, I stayed late so I could get the retouches done and get the project
off the desk."

"Rush
job."

"Not
really. My client gives me the creeps and I just wanted the work off my desk."
She voiced her fears out loud so he could tell her she was being silly.

"Who's
the client?"

She
broke off a piece of her cookie, not sure why she'd even brought up the topic.
"I'm probably being silly, but it's Dana Miller. I'm being silly, right?"

He
shrugged. "I've crossed her path a couple of times."

This
was the part where he was supposed to tell her not to worry. "And she was fine,
right?"

"I
wasn't impressed."

"Oh."

He
leaned forward. "You're finished with her, right?"

"Right."

"Then
don't sweat it. Just say no to any other jobs."

"You're
right. I'm just overreacting." She needed to hear the words.

"I
didn't say that. I'm just saying I wouldn't work for her again."

She
sighed. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For just letting me babble.
I work alone so
much,
I don't get the chance to talk to people very often."

Creases
formed around his eyes when he smiled. "You are doing me the favor. I've got
two teenaged sons who only talk about bodily functions and cheerleaders."

She
laughed out loud.

Ayden
sat back, savoring the sound of Nicole's laughter. When he'd first seen her
last summer she'd worn her hair shorter and she'd dyed it blond. In the last
seven months the bleached strands had grown out and been cut away. Now
ink-black hair framed her round face. He preferred the dark to the light. It
made her blue eyes all the more expressive and alluring.

Pregnancy
agreed with Nicole. The extra roundness of her face was preferable to last
summer's gauntness. And despite her protruding belly she still possessed an air
of grace.

"What
are your boys' names?" she asked.

He
sensed genuine interest.
"Caleb and Zane.
Sixteen and fifteen, respectively."

"They
keep you busy, I'll bet."

"You've
no idea." He thought about the fiasco this morning. "At six this morning, Caleb
remembered he was supposed to be here for the S.A.T. session at eight. He woke
me up oblivious to the fact that I've worked a lot of late hours this week on a
case."

She
rested her chin on her hand. "I could be a little spacey when I was a teenager.
I drove my mom nuts. She was always a sport, though."

"Caleb's
mom, my late wife, was the calm one. I wish she'd been there this morning to
smooth the explosion."

Since
his wife's passing two years ago, Ayden had never been able to talk to another
woman without first thinking about Julie. Guiltily, he realized he'd not
thought about her at all since Nicole sat down. "Julie was always good at
getting the boys where they needed to go. I never had to worry."

Nicole's
face softened. "I remember Zack saying you're a widower. How'd she die?"