She Can Kill (She Can Series) (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Mike parked in front of his house in town, angling his SUV between Ethan’s cruiser and the medical examiner’s van. Crime scene tape cordoned off a rectangle at the curb, where a blue utility van was parked. The bumper was rusted, and the first letter on the license plate was a D. The rear doors hung open. A few yards in front of the van, Ethan wrote on a clipboard.

Mike got out of the car and walked over to Ethan. “Where’s Sarah?”

Ethan pointed toward a white house kitty-corner to Sarah’s. “They went to Kenzie Newell’s house. Mrs. Newell’s children were there. She was pretty upset.”

“Did you run the van’s plates?” Mike asked.

“I did. The van is registered to a Jerome Black,” Ethan said. “Twenty-five years old. The address on the vehicle registration is an apartment in Scranton.” Scranton was twenty minutes away.

Mike approached the van. The faint odor of decay wafted from the vehicle. “How the hell did two bodies sit in a van all day without anyone noticing?”

“Neighbors thought it was a contractor,” Ethan said. “Nobody looked inside, and before I opened the back, you couldn’t smell anything.”

“Hi, Mike,” the medical examiner, Gregory Caldwell, called over his shoulder. In his coveralls and gloves, Greg was leaning into the open rear door. His “tool kit” sat on the ground next to his feet. An assistant was snapping photos of the inside of the van.

“Greg.” Mike nodded. “What’s the status of the county forensics team?”

“On the way,” Ethan said. “I called Pete too. Thought we might need some help.”

The ME’s assistant stepped back. Greg snapped fitted booties over his shoes and carefully climbed into the van. Crouching, he picked his way to the bodies with deliberate steps. The bodies appeared to have been tossed without care. Greg stopped even with the victims’ hips and squatted. “I see two gunshot wounds in each chest. Mike, put aside your phobia of all things medical and come over here.”

Mike sighed. One panic attack in the ER years ago, and he would never live it down. Though Greg was right. Mike had no desire to get closer to the bodies or the medical examiner, but he steeled himself and walked closer. The men were lying on their backs, arms and legs askew. Despite the beginning-to-bloat facial features, Mike could see the corpse on the left had facial damage. A sweet, metallic odor wafted from the van, like hamburger meat left in the fridge a few days too long.

Mike scanned the van’s interior. The bodies lay on a bed of empty food containers, drug paraphernalia, blankets, pillows, and dirty clothing. “Looks like they spent a lot of time in the van. Maybe lived in it.” He leaned out of the van. “Ethan, call the landlord at the apartment complex. See if Jerome was still living there.”

“OK, Chief.” Ethan went to his car.

Mike turned back to the ME. “Any idea how long they’ve been dead?”

“Not yet. I just got here. This is
CSI
, not
Medium
.” Greg grasped the closest arm and moved it slightly, then glanced at the notes on his clipboard. “Rigor has come and gone.” Rigor mortis, the port-mortem stiffening of muscles, usually passed in about thirty-six hours at room temperature. “If the van’s been outside, cool temperatures over the past few days would have slowed decay considerably.”

“This appears to be the van driven away from the convenience store robbery. The victim on the left has some facial damage. Can you check for a broken right wrist on the second body?”

Greg lifted the second corpse’s hand and examined the wrist. “I’ll need X-rays to confirm, but I’d say yes.”

“Then for now, I’m proceeding on the hypothesis that these are the robbers. We know they were alive Tuesday evening,” Mike said. “And their clothing appears to be the same as in the store’s surveillance video. The van matches the witness’s description. Could they have been dead since then?”

“Four days?” Greg considered. “It’s possible. They’ve been dead at least two days, probably longer.”

Greg took a scalpel from his kit. Positioning himself next to the closest victim’s torso, he made a cut in the shirt. Checking the skin beneath, he made a small incision in the upper abdomen. Mike looked away, but he knew the ME was sliding his thermometer into the corpse to take the body’s temperature directly from the liver. Greg read the thermometer, then made a note on his clipboard.

“When will you do the autopsies?” Mike asked.

“I suppose Monday isn’t fast enough for you.”

“Sooner would be better. I’d really like to know what’s going on around here.”

“OK. If I can get an autopsy assistant in tomorrow, I’ll do it then. No promises, though. Tomorrow is Sunday. I might have to bribe someone.”

“I appreciate it.” Mike turned to Ethan as he returned from his patrol car. “Were the van’s doors locked?”

“No, and the keys were in the ignition,” Ethan said. “No answer at the apartment complex. I left a message.”

Mike scanned the street. His gaze stopped on his house. Too bad Sean hadn’t installed the cameras on Sarah’s house yet.

A crime scene van rolled onto the scene. Mike and Ethan backed away as two navy-jumpsuited techs carried their kits to the van. Leaving Greg and the forensic crew to collect evidence, Mike went in search of Sarah. Who had killed the two robbers? And why had their bodies been left outside her house? Sarah had found the bodies. Sarah had a relationship with Cristan Rojas, who’d had a violent encounter with the two dead men. Or was this meant for Kenzie Newell? Had Cristan or someone else killed the men and left them as a sick gift for Kenzie?

After he talked to Sarah and Kenzie, Mike was going to pay Cristan a visit and find out where he’d been the night before. Kenzie had to be the reason the bodies had been left here. Mike couldn’t fathom a connection between Sarah and the dead men.

Except for Cristan, who seemed to be the hub in this particular crime wheel.

Lieutenant Pete Winters, Mike’s second-in-command, rolled up in his cruiser.

“Sorry about canceling your day off,” Mike said.

Pete climbed out of the vehicle. His bulldog face creased. “My wife is hosting her book club tonight. I’d rather question witnesses or babysit dead bodies. Where do you want me to begin?”

Mike pointed to the crowd that had gathered in a driveway. “Start taking statements. This is a small, nosy neighborhood. Someone saw something. I was here at nine o’clock last night. The van wasn’t there, so it must have been left after that.”

“Got it.” Pete headed for the gawkers.

Leaving Ethan with the van, Mike turned to study the street. The afternoon was cold, but the sun warmed the top of his head. Mike recognized everyone. He’d spent part of his childhood in the house, and his mother had left it to him when she died. He’d lived there alone for the last decade. He knew most of the residents who lived on the surrounding blocks, except for Kenzie Newell. She and her husband hadn’t lived on the street long before he’d moved in with Rachel and turned his house over to Sarah.

A white sedan approached with obvious caution and pulled into the driveway of the small blue house directly across the street. Mike started toward the woman getting out of her car. Mrs. Hill had the best view of the van and Sarah’s house. The trunk of the sedan popped open, and Mrs. Hill rounded her car to remove a canvas grocery bag.

A divorced sixty-year-old, Mrs. Hill had retired from selling real estate several years ago but still dressed every day as if heading off to work. Today’s slim black slacks, white blouse, and wool trench coat showed off a trim figure that belied her age.

“Hello, Mrs. Hill.” Mike stopped next to her car. “Can I carry these in for you?”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Mike hefted a canvas tote full of canned cat food and a twenty-pound plastic container of litter.

Unlocking her door, she led him into the foyer. “How are you?” Her gaze swept his body from bottom to top. “You look great. Rachel Parker must agree with you.”

He flushed at her close appraisal. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She tilted her head. Beneath a short cap of blond hair, her clear brown eyes flickered to the street over his shoulder, then returned to study his face. “But you’re not here for a social call, are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her gaze flickered to the medical examiner’s vehicle. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”

He shut the door behind him and followed her into a bright kitchen decorated in shades of gray.

“You can leave those by the pantry.” She set her grocery bag on the black granite counter.

Mike set the bags down.

“Tea?” She lit the burner under a kettle on the stove.

“No, thank you.” Mike took a seat at the kitchen island.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“There are two dead bodies inside that van.”

She paused, her hand on an upper cabinet. “Well, that’s unexpected.”

“It was,” he agreed. “Did you notice that van on the street?”

“Yes.” She took a delicate white cup from a cabinet and tossed a tea bag into it. “I saw it when I left to run errands after lunch. I assumed it was a repairman of some sort.”

“Were you home last night?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I had a date.”

Must have been some date. From the years he’d lived across the street, he knew she had an active
social
life. Mike had watched many men leave her house in the early morning hours. “What time did you go out?”

She toyed with a long strand of black pearls around her neck. “Oh, I didn’t leave. Howard came here for dinner around seven.”

Mike had been at Sarah’s house at nine o’clock. The van wasn’t there then. “So you didn’t see any vehicles that didn’t belong on the street after nine?”

“Honey, by nine o’clock, we were too busy to look out the window.” Mrs. Hill wasn’t known for her discretion.

Mike felt the blush heat his face. “Do you know Sarah Mitchell?”

“Yes. She has the most adorable little girls. If my son doesn’t grow up soon, I won’t see grandchildren before I’m dead. Can you believe he’s almost forty and doesn’t even have a steady girl? He says he’s afraid of commitment. What a crock. He’s just lazy.”

Mike steered her back on track. “What about earlier, say about eight o’clock? Did you see a pickup truck that didn’t belong on the street?”

Mrs. Hill raised her eyebrows and grinned at him as if amused by his discomfort. Then she sobered. “A pickup truck? Like the one Sarah’s asshole of an ex drives?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I didn’t see it last night, but that son of a bitch has been all over this block for the last couple of weeks.”

“Do you remember any specific times?”

Propping one hand on her hip, she hummed. Her chin dropped, and her fingers twirled a pearl for a few seconds. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“If you think of anything, give me a call.” Mike offered her a business card.

She waved it off. “Honey, I already have your number.”

Kenzie Newell’s house was next in line. Knowing she had small children, Mike knocked instead of ringing the bell. She opened the door, clutching a child’s stuffed kitten in front of her body. “Chief O’Connell.”

“Hi, Kenzie. Can we talk?” he asked.

Her head bobbed in a tight nod. “Come in.”

She led him to a small, warm kitchen. Sarah sat at the round, oak table. In the high chair next to her, a flush faced toddler played with a bowl of Cheerios. Through a doorway, he could see a little girl of about five staring at a cartoon on the television.

“I’ll need to talk to you separately,” Mike said.

“OK.” Sarah got up from the table. “I’ll wait for you at my house. If you need anything, call me, Kenzie.”

“Thanks,” Kenzie said.

The front door opened and closed. The kitchen was small, but Kenzie stood as far away as she could from Mike while staying in the same room. “Are those the men from the robbery?” Her voice trembled. From the circles under her eyes, he thought she hadn’t been sleeping. “I don’t know anything for sure yet, but it’s possible,” Mike said. “When did you notice the van?”

Kenzie leaned against the countertop. Her fingers rubbed the kitten’s ear. “I noticed it this morning. But I was busy all day. Delaney had a fever. I finally got her down for a late nap and went out for the mail. I desperately needed a breath of fresh air. I don’t know why the van suddenly bothered me then. I thought I was just being paranoid. I’ve been a little nervous since the robbery.”

“Have you talked to anyone about what happened in the convenience store?”

Shaking her head, she clutched the toy tighter.

“The robbery was a traumatic event. It’s perfectly normal to have some residual effects. A counselor might help.”

The toddler swept her bowl of Cheerios to the floor. Her body stiffened and she cried, “Kitty.”

Kenzie handed her the toy, liberated her from the chair, and lifted the child to her hip. “I don’t know if we can afford that. I didn’t go back to work after Delaney was born. Daycare for two kids cost more than I made.”

Delaney rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Are you alone here?”

“My husband works for the mine. He’s been in Australia looking at some equipment.” Her eyes dropped. “He should be home Monday.”

Mike dug out another business card. “I want you to call me if you can’t get help through your insurance.”

She took the card and stacked it with her mail. “OK.”

But he doubted she would, and he made a mental note to follow up with her. At the very least, his secretary would know of a community or church-based support group that might help.

Mike went on to subject number two. “Do you know Sarah’s husband, Troy?”

“Yes.” The baby squirmed. Kenzie bounced and swayed to soothe her.

“Have you seen him around lately?”

She brushed a hair off her forehead. “I saw him last night. He was parked in front of my house.”

Yes!

Mike whipped out his notebook. “Do you remember what time you saw him?”

“The truck parked there around seven thirty. I was trying to get Delaney to bed, but she was fussy so we were walking around the house. I’m always a little paranoid when Tim’s out of town, but this week . . .”