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“I know.”
Nodding, she stood and went back down to the young girl’s body. “Rigor mortis has just set in, so I estimate the time of death is approximately within the past four hours.”
He agreed with her assessment and knew the warm ashes gave credence to her time frame. “I suppose the lake water washed away any evidence.”
“Maybe, maybe not. There’s still some mud embedded in the bottom of her running shoes. And I would recommend sending the faded rope around her neck to the lab. If the perp wasn’t wearing gloves, there might be skin cells in the fibers of the rope. We could get lucky.”
Luck wasn’t his strong suit, but he nodded. He wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with this. His first murder as interim sheriff.
Dawn was breaking over the horizon by the time the medical examiner left the scene, taking Liza’s shrouded body with him.
Megan came up beside him. “Liza didn’t die here. The dirt embedded in the bottom of her shoes has the consistency of clay. I can’t see anything around here except sandy dirt and a bit of moss.”
“So what do you recommend?” he asked.
She grimaced and shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but we could do a broader search, to see if there’s some other area around the lake where a scuffle might have taken place. Can you shut down access to the lake for a while?”
“We can shut down the public boat launch, but there are at least twenty-five dwellings surrounding the lake. I can send a few deputies out to ask everyone to stay off the lake, if you think it will help.”
“I think it would help. We need to start as soon as we have more light.”
“And what if she wasn’t killed close to the lake?” Luke couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “She could have been killed anywhere, there’s natural forest for miles around. Don’t you think your plan to search the entire lake is a bit extreme?”
“Extreme? Or inconvenient?” Her gaze bored into his. In the faint light he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but for the first time tonight, there was a fiery determination shooting daggers at him. “If she was your daughter, don’t you think a little inconvenience would be worth it to find her killer?”
Touché. As a cop he knew very well how family members of victims needed closure. She was right. He raised a hand in silent surrender. “Okay. I’ll approve overtime for every single deputy to help us search.” He’d better call the mayor too, because it was only a matter of time before both of their phones would be ringing from angry and worried citizens. Especially once they started questioning everyone, including the hordes of tourists.
“You’re going to want to question Liza’s friends, Teagan and the boys she went out to the lake with.”
He swallowed the spark of annoyance. He had asked for her help, so there was no point in complaining when she gave it to him. “Yeah. I know.” He could get the names of the boys from Teagan, no doubt, and Liza’s best friend was exactly the place he intended to start.
Megan hesitated. “I realize I shouldn’t make rash judgments, but there was one boy, lanky and tall, with long dark hair, dressed all in black, who seemed to be a loner, standing apart from the rest of the group.”
His breath froze in his throat at her description. Long dark hair? Lanky and tall? Loner? Sam?
Was she really describing his son?
Oblivious to his internal turmoil, she continued, “He appeared angry, a deep scowl on his face. I remember thinking he looked like trouble. Maybe his anger got the better of him.”
Angry accurately described Sam. Trouble did too. But even if his son had been at the lake last night, that didn’t mean he’d had anything to do with Liza’s death. As far as he knew, Sam hadn’t been caught doing anything illegal.
Yet Sam hadn’t been home earlier when he’d come in from work. And he’d claimed he was hanging out with Doug. Luke thought back to when he’d gotten the call about finding Liza. He’d torn out of the house, heading straight to the crime scene without checking Sam’s room.
But now that he thought about it, Sam’s large, rusted, black four-wheel-drive Chevy truck hadn’t been in the driveway when he left. His gut clenched again. What time had the call come in? Quarter after two in the morning?
He told himself to relax, that Sam often didn’t come home by his curfew. He’d verify where Sam had spent the night, and it was highly likely Sam had a decent alibi.
Sam claimed to hate Luke for moving them to this small, podunk town, as he described it. But Sam wasn’t a bad kid. He may have gotten into a few fights, but always with other boys, never taking his anger out on a girl. Sam was quiet, not doing well in school, but that was normal teenage stuff. No, there was no reason for him to worry about Sam, not over something like this.
Not cold, premeditated murder.
“Thanks for the information,” he said, when he belatedly realized Megan was waiting for his response. “Don’t worry, we’ll check into every possibility.”
“I’m sure you will.” Megan looked slightly embarrassed, as if realizing she was ordering him around. She gave him a strained smile before turning toward her car. “We’ll need decent light, so I’ll meet you at the diner in three hours to start the search.”
“I’ll have everyone ready to go by then,” he agreed.
He watched her drive off. He didn’t leave right away. First he made his phone calls, ordering the deputies to report to work and then leaving a message for the mayor. Once those two most important tasks were finished, he debated between going home and going straight to the office.
After a short internal argument, he headed home. He told himself the main reason was to change clothes, knowing that this was going to be a long day with potential media exposure. As the interim sheriff, he was expected to be in uniform at all times.
But his heart squeezed in his chest when he pulled into the driveway.
Sam’s truck still wasn’t there.
Luke strode into the house, straight down the hall into Sam’s room. The bed wasn’t made, but then again, it rarely was. He stood in the center of the room, looking for some sign, anything to tell him that Sam had been there at least at some point during the night.
Dark clothing was scattered all over the floor, but he couldn’t tell if any of the garments had been recently worn and discarded. His son’s entire wardrobe consisted of black T-shirts and black jeans. Luke had taken some dirty dishes out of Sam’s room the day before, and there were no recently used plates or glasses lying about to indicate he’d come back at some point during the night.
Nothing at all to indicate Sam had been here. Luke swallowed hard.
Did that mean he didn’t have an alibi? That maybe his son had been with the dead girl? Sam did seem to be angry, but surely not angry enough to take someone’s life.
He desperately needed to find Sam, to question him before one of his deputies did.
THREE
Megan decided to eat breakfast at Rose’s Café before meeting Luke and the rest of his deputies to begin the search. She wasn’t really hungry, but her brain needed nourishment in order to remain sharp enough to find any clues as to where Liza might have been killed.
The similarities between Liza’s death and the victims of the St. Patrick’s Strangler, as the press had dubbed Paul Sherman, bothered her. She wanted to talk to the sheriff about her suspicions, but he hadn’t been at the office when she’d stopped by on her way back to the café.
Josie was behind the counter again. Megan ordered an omelet for breakfast and then asked Josie if she’d seen the sheriff recently.
“He’s out back, sweetie, talking to his son.”
“His son?” She couldn’t hide her shock. “He’s married?”
“Widowed.” Josie grinned, enjoying the gossip. “His boy runs a little wild, though, if you know what I mean.”
Widowed. Why the tragic news made her feel a mixture of sadness and relief she had no idea. Megan slid off her stool and walked outside, circling the corner of the diner. She stopped abruptly, remaining semi-hidden behind the Dumpster, when she caught a glimpse of Sheriff Luke Torretti facing down his son.
“How long have you been drinking?” Luke asked in a low furious voice.
“What do you care?” The boy was the same one she’d noticed the day before, the tall, lanky kid with the long, dark tangled hair, only today his hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail, partially hidden by the paper hat the boy wore. Dressed in scruffy jeans and a long apron tied around his narrow waist, he looked to be the café dishwasher.
She should leave, go back inside rather than stand here eavesdropping, but investigative instincts she’d thought long dead came to life, preventing her from leaving.
“You’re right, Sam. Why should I care? So what if you go to jail? So what if you’re convicted of strangling Liza Campbell? Why would I care about what happens to you, when you don’t?”
The boy, Sam, blanched, and Megan thought he looked ready to throw up. Maybe it was a hangover from the drinking Luke mentioned or the blunt description of Liza’s death. “Doug will vouch for me. I slept on the floor of his bedroom.”
“And what time was that exactly?” Luke didn’t give his son an inch. “Because from what I’m hearing, you were the last one to see her alive, and your only alibi during the time of Liza’s murder is your best friend Doug.”
“That’s really great, Dad. Thanks a lot.” The familiar sneer was back on Sam’s face. “It’s really nice to know my own father suspects me of killing some stupid chick.”
“Stupid chick?” Luke’s voice had gone dangerously soft. “Is that what you think of her? What’s the matter, Sam? Did she turn you down when you asked her out? Did she look down her nose at you? Make you mad? Did you have a fight? Tell me what happened between the two of you. If you come clean and tell me everything now, it will be better for you in the long run.”
Something in Luke’s tone must have warned Sam not to push it. Instead of hiding behind sarcasm, he responded to his father’s questions. “I didn’t fight with her. I never asked her out. She wouldn’t have gone with me anyway, she’s still hung up on Sean Mathews.”
“Is Sean her boyfriend? Was he with you guys last night?”
Sam shook his head. “No, Sean left two weeks ago to join the army. He’s in basic training down in Kentucky somewhere. Liza was mad he broke up with her.”
“So your story is that Zach, Doug, Teagan and Patrice left first, but you stayed behind a little while longer to talk with Liza. At midnight, you left Liza and went back to Doug’s house. There were six of you at the bonfire and you split a case of beer. After you and Doug went to his house, you sat around and finished off a bottle of Jack Daniels while playing video games.”
“Yeah.” Sam stared down at his feet for a long minute. “That’s what happened. Liza was fine when I left.”
“You let her go home alone?” Luke pressed.
Sam flushed with guilt. “I offered to take her home, but she said she’d be fine. She gave me the impression she wasn’t going straight home. I figured she might be meeting someone else. None of my business what she does in her free time.”
There was a long pause, as Luke digested that information. “How often do you drink?” Luke finally asked.
“Not that often.” The way Sam avoided his father’s gaze made Megan believe he wasn’t being honest.
“And you didn’t bother to come home last night, or to call to let me know you were planning to spend the night at Doug’s.” Luke’s sarcastic tone made her wince in sympathy for Sam, although it sounded as if the kid deserved it. She would have been just as upset if Katie had pulled such a stunt. “And where were Doug’s parents while you were drinking?”
“His parents are divorced. His mom works nights as a nurse at Hope County Hospital.” Sam hunched his shoulders. “This is the first time we got drunk on hard liquor. Normally we just drink a few beers. Doug’s mom is a nice lady, it’s not her fault we were stupid.”
“You’re right about that,” Luke agreed, his tone slightly bitter. “You and Doug were stupid. Really stupid. Drinking isn’t going to help, Sam. Don’t you realize by now that drinking is only going to make things worse?”
A heavy silence fell, and Megan wondered if she should choose that moment to interrupt. But then Luke dismissed his son. “Get back to work. One of the deputies might need to ask you some questions later.”
Sam looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he clamped his mouth shut and spun on his heel, walking back into the back door of the café. Luke turned and saw her, his eyebrows pulling together in a small frown when he realized she’d heard at least a portion of his conversation with his son. “You were right,” he said with a grimace. “He is trouble.”
She bit her lip, a twinge of sympathy making her regret her rash statement. She took several steps, closing the gap between them. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low tone. “I didn’t realize he was your son.”
Luke shrugged. “Not your fault.” His shoulders drooped, as if the interaction with his son had worn him out. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Yes.” She had to pull her thoughts together, having been distracted by the emotionally charged interaction between father and son. “It’s about the murder.”
He lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
She let out a breath in a soft sigh. “I’m sure you noticed the similarity between this most recent murder and the series of strangulations I worked on last year. Specifically, the choice of murder weapon.”
“The hollow-braided rope?” Luke asked.
She nodded. The rope disturbed her. Granted, the previous victims were all killed with a bright orange, brand-new rope, but still, could this really be a coincidence?
“You think we have some sort of copycat killer?” Luke guessed.
“It’s a possibility.” Megan glanced around, making sure they were alone. “Polyurethane hollow-braided rope is very common, especially here on a lake where there are lots of boats. And they come in all different colors. Why did the killer pick one that looks like it might be faded orange?”
“I don’t know.” Luke was frowning again. “We’re going to verify the color, since it was hard to tell for sure if it had been orange or not. But regardless, the details of the St. Patrick’s Strangler aren’t a secret. Not anymore.”
“I know.” She shivered, in spite of the warmth of the sun. “Paul Sherman is serving a life sentence in prison for killing my sister, and even though he denied killing any of them, he doesn’t have a chance at parole. I’m sure you would have heard about it if he’d have escaped from prison, right?”
“Yes,” he assured her. “I already checked. He’s still in custody.”
She felt light-headed with relief. “Okay, so if Paul Sherman is in prison, the person who killed Liza might have tried to imitate parts of his crimes.”
“But not all the details,” Luke argued. “He tossed Liza’s body into the lake. From what I remember, none of the other girls had been dumped in the water.”
“True. Sherman stalked his victims at Irish pubs and killed them after closing. All three of them were blonde, all three were strangled with a brand-new orange polyurethane rope, and their bodies were left within a stone’s throw of whichever Irish pub he met them at.”
There was a small pause. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
Her throat swelled with guilt and sorrow and she couldn’t speak, but she nodded. Seeing Katie’s dead body had been the worst thing she’d ever gone through, worse than losing their parents to a car crash four years earlier. The only good thing was that she’d helped find evidence linking Paul Sherman to the murder of her sister. Katie had clawed at his hands, not knocked out by the drug concoction he’d put in her drink. She’d found skin cells buried beneath her sister’s fingernails. The DNA evidence had helped convict him. He claimed to be innocent, but the jury had found him guilty of all three murders.
“I’ll have to review the trial transcripts,” Luke said in a low tone. “See if there are other similarities.”
“Good idea.” She was grateful he wasn’t ignoring her concerns. She couldn’t say why the faded hollow-braided rope bothered her so much. She couldn’t help wondering if the killer’s choice was significant.
Unless she was simply becoming obsessed, because of Katie. For all she knew, this was simply a crime of opportunity and nothing more.
If the killer was a copycat murderer, why not match all the details? Brand-new bright orange hollow-braided rope instead of old, faded stuff? Leaving the body at the crime scene?
Maybe she was making more out of the similarities than she should be.
“When do you want to start searching?” Luke asked.
She remembered the omelet she’d ordered. “Soon. I have food waiting for me inside. Give me twenty minutes.”
“All right, I’ll have my deputies waiting at the south shore where we found Liza’s body. You can let us know how to proceed from there.”
The way he deferred to her expertise impressed her. The sheriff was obviously a man who didn’t mind getting help when he needed it. And as far as she was concerned, they’d need all the help they could get to catch this guy. “Sounds good.”
He nodded and walked away, so she headed back inside the café.
Her food was cold, but she ate it anyway. She couldn’t help thinking about Luke. And his son, Sam. Despite what she’d overheard, especially the part where Sam had been the last one to see the victim alive, she really didn’t want to believe Sam was guilty of murdering Liza. As angry as the teen was, it was difficult to imagine him capable of murder.
Because he was the sheriff’s son? Maybe. Because she wanted to believe the best of him? Probably. Although she was forced to admit Sam seemed just as aloof and alone as his father.
Not that the ruggedly attractive sheriff was any of her concern. When her fiancé, Jake, had dumped her after Katie’s death, right when she’d needed him the most, she’d decided she was better off without men. Including tall, dark, handsome cops. Her main concern right now was to find the spot where Liza had been murdered.
There was always a clue. Sometimes the clues didn’t mean much by themselves, but in the end, the truth prevailed.
When she finished breakfast, Megan drove back to the south shore of the lake where Liza’s body had been found. True to his word, the sheriff had well over a dozen men waiting.
