In the Belly of Jonah (20 page)

As he rounded the corner from College Avenue onto Drake, his cell phone rang.

“Pierce, we have a problem.” Detective Doug Brandt’s voice was unsteady. “What’s your location?”

“I’m about four blocks from the house. Why?”

“Get here.” Brandt said, cutting off the line.

The Overland light was green, which allowed Streeter to pull into the cul-de-sac within less than two minutes. As he turned onto the street where he’d been staying, the two black-and-whites had their lights flashing, as did the ambulance in the driveway at Liv Bergen’s house.

Streeter’s stomach lurched.

His mind flashed to the moment Lisa Henry had told him about staying with a friend of hers in Fort Collins. He had reluctantly agreed—it would save him the sixty miles from Denver and another forty miles to Conifer round trip each day—because it was time better spent on the investigation. But all along he had not liked the idea of staying at Liv Bergen’s house for fear of endangering an innocent citizen. Now something had happened to her.

He parked behind Brandt’s Mercury and bounded across the drive and up the front steps onto the porch. Police were huddled in the entryway and nodded toward the back bedroom when he flashed his credentials at them. Streeter saw Brandt at the end of the hallway, holding his hands against his temples, staring into the spare bedroom.

“Brandt?” Streeter said. “What is it?”

He shook his head and stepped aside for Streeter to see for himself.

It wasn’t Liv. It was Agent Henry.

The medical personnel were trying to revive Lisa, who lay still on the bed. Her lips were dark blue and her skin had a gray hue. He saw patches of something smeared on her skin, something light and tan. It was makeup. Foundation. To cover fresh bruises on Lisa’s dead body, bruises that were not there when he had left her just a few hours ago.

Why?

She was naked, exposed to the strangers who worked the electric paddles on her chest. He resisted the urge to push them aside and wrap the comforter around her, protecting her from all the probing eyes and indecency. But at the same time, he knew it didn’t matter.

None of this was making any sense.

“Lisa?” Streeter called to her, taking a step toward the bed.

The medical team turned to him and shook their heads. They removed the paddles, lifted the oxygen mask away from her face, and packed their equipment before retreating from the room.

It gave him comfort that her eyes were closed, and he tried to imagine the last image she saw before she died. She had no bullet wound, no blood underneath her on the bed, no obvious signs of asphyxiation.

Hearing the thud behind him, Streeter looked back over his shoulder in time to see Brandt slump to a sitting position on the floor in the hall and hang his head in his hands, moaning.

“How? When?” Streeter asked.

Brandt said, “I got here twenty minutes ago. No one answered the doorbell. Lisa’s car was still outside. The door was unlocked so I let myself in, just like yesterday. Didn’t think much of it until I went to use the bathroom. I just . . . I found her like this. Called an ambulance. Called you. That’s all I know.”

Streeter’s breath caught. “And Liv Bergen?”

“Not home yet,” Brandt said. “She doesn’t know.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Streeter punched numbers into his cell phone. “Get the crime scene techs up here right away. It’s Lisa Henry. And tell Phil Kelleher to get up here as soon as he can with an overnight bag.”He gave the address and looked at his watch before closing his cell. “Brandt. Brandt?”

Brandt hadn’t moved. His eyes were glazed over, dazed. Streeter had seen that expression before. This was not the first time Brandt had witnessed a murder scene, but probably the first time he knew the victim, Streeter thought.

Streeter leaned down next to him in the hall and put a firm grip on his shoulder. “Brandt, we need to help Lisa. We’ve got to get all these people out of here and secure the crime scene. Use your people to cordon off the cul-de-sac and interview the neighbors. My techs will be here within forty minutes. I need you to watch for them. Show them where the crime scene is. Where Lisa is.”

Brandt blinked at him and roused himself a little. Streeter nodded at him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

Streeter helped Brandt to his feet. “And check on Liv Bergen. Make sure she’s still at work or wherever she’s been all day. Just make sure she’s still accounted for without alarming her. If she is still at work, come up with a reason to stall her from coming home. She doesn’t need to see this.”

“Neither did I,” Brandt croaked.

ZACK CALLED MICAH AT
six. “Are we still meeting at Washington’s tonight?”

“Yeah,” Micah said.

“Want to go with me?”

“Nah. I’m going with Alicia and Shelby to Tate’s for dinner. He’s having a house party for some of his frat buddies and invited us as their dates.”

Zack groaned. No wonder Jill and the other girls from the gang never paid any attention to him. The competition was stiff. Grad students trumped frat students only when grade tampering was involved. And most students didn’t need a TA’s help with an art grade.

“But we’re going to make it there by eight; no later than nine. So save us a seat?”

“For Tate and his buddies too?” Zack said, holding his breath.

“No, just the three of us. You okay, Zack?” Micah added.

Zack let out a breath, relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with the testosterone all night. At least not the
rich
testosterone. He’d still be in competition with the rest of the guys in their gang.

“Not really,” he answered. He hadn’t been right since Monday night when he saw Jill at the library. “I’m just missing Jill.”

“Me too,” Micah said. “But the gang will all be together again tonight, and we’ll lift our glasses high to her, okay?”

Zack didn’t answer.

“She’d want us to, Zack.”

“I know,” he said.

But he wasn’t so sure. There was something a bit perverse in toasting a dead friend two short days after her mutilated body had been found. What would people think? Would it draw attention to them? To him? Shouldn’t they all be in mourning? Didn’t they respect the significance and gravity of this event? The fact that one of their own was dead? The fact that de Milo had struck again? The fact that it could have just as easily been one of them?

“See you there,” Micah said, and hung up the phone.

He resisted the urge to throw his cell phone against the wall. They weren’t taking this seriously. They weren’t taking
him
seriously. They had turned this into a celebration, a party. Was it just Micah, or all of the girls? They should be afraid.

Zack dialed another number. “Jackson, what’s up?”

“Nothing, dude. What’s up with you?”Jackson sounded like he’d started happy hour early. Zack frowned. Hoping Jackson was drinking to drown his sorrows rather than to party again, Zack wondered if he, too, should be seeking the answer for all this at the bottom of a bottle of Jim Beam.

“Want to grab a pizza?” Zack didn’t want to be alone. He was itchy. Very itchy. The harrowing emotional roller coaster he’d been riding this week hadn’t set well with him. He needed normalcy.

“I already ate, man. I’m just sitting here with my roomie listening to some Bob Marley tunes. Want to join us?”

“Yeah, I do,” Zack answered, desperate to find company. Company that wasn’t partying or yucking it up. Who were mourning the loss of Jill’s beauty as he was. “Let me grab a pie and I’ll be over in a few.”

He walked across the street from his dorm and splurged on a large sausage-and-black-olive pizza to go from Sporty’s. Zack waited on a tall stool, watching the second hand tick through the minutes, imagining the pie baking, the cheese melting, the crust crisping. He recalled the last time he had eaten pizza with Jill; he could picture the blue shirt she had worn with her faded jeans. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and had worn a Broncos cap. She had picked off the olives and sausage from the piece he’d offered her and eaten the slice plain, just sauce and cheese.

She had smiled at him Monday night when he’d walked up to her at the library. Smiled because she’d been
happy
to see him.

“Zack?” a familiar voice called.

He turned on his stool, nearly toppling from the sudden movement.

“Dr. Jay. What’s up?”

“Just grabbing a bite. What are you up to, bud?”

“Same thing.” Zack said. He pointed to the empty stool next to him. “Want to join me?”

“Happy to. Not feeling much like being alone, you know?”

Measured across the chest, Dr. Jay was almost twice Zack’s size; otherwise, they were very similar in stature. They were also nearly the same age, Dr. Jay not much older than Zack. That and an appreciation for art were the only similarities they shared. The differences between them were far more numerous. Dr. Jay possessed an agility and Cuban smoothness that Zack admired, even coveted. A babe magnet. He certainly didn’t need Zack to keep him company. He could have any woman on campus.

Zack answered, “Yeah, me too.”

Dr. Jay sat down on the stool. “Order already?”

“Yeah,” Zack said. “A large. Want some?”

“I ordered a large, too,” Dr. Jay said, ignoring the coeds in tight exposed-midriff T-shirts and short shorts seated at the nearby table who were snickering and pointing at him and Zack.

Anyone he wants
, Zack thought once more.
What a life
.

“I guess I was hoping to find company by ordering a large, hoping to attract a broke and hungry friend, right? You know, ‘Build it and they will come.’” Dr. Jay smiled, his pearly teeth perfectly offsetting his tanned skin and dark eyes. The pencil-thin mustache didn’t seem so outdated as it did when Zack had first met him.

“Yeah, right.” Zack agreed. “I was headed over to Jackson’s dorm with mine. Want to come?”

Dr. Jay nodded. “Sure.”

The girls at the table rose, making sure to command Dr. Jay’s attention by working what they had on their way out the door, then turning to wave and giggle. Zack was surprised to find Dr. Jay’s attention was on him instead of the vamping coeds.

“How are you doing, Zack?”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, you haven’t been to class this week.”

Zack tensed. “Considering the circumstances, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I do mind, Zack,” the professor said, sipping his soda, pinching the straw as if it were the molding clay he used in the sculpting class. He raised an eyebrow and added, “I understand, but I mind.”

Zack stared, dumbfounded. Why would he care whether Zack missed a couple of classes this week? Was he insane? Jill was dead. Murdered. What could be more important than that?

“I mind because the students look up to you,” Dr. Jay explained, his dark eyes sparkling with intensity. “You and I need to be their rock during their journey across an ocean of grief. Do you follow me?”

Zack’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t been aware of all the tension he’d been carrying in his back, his neck, his shoulders.

“Don’t you think I’d prefer to skip class?”Dr. Jay continued when Zack didn’t answer. He patted his TA on the shoulder. “Missing Thursday, okay. But again yesterday? That was too much. We can’t miss any more classes, got it?”