Field of Graves(6)
She swept her hand toward the media trucks. Their level of activity had picked up, excitement palpable in the air. Techs were setting up lights and running around on the street by the duck pond, with cameras and portable microphones in tow. The news vans were lined up around the corner. Taylor watched Fitz and the patrol officers struggle to keep the reporters from rushing the tape to gather their precious scoops. Nothing like murder in the morning to start a feeding frenzy.
“Seriously, Taylor, you know how they are. They’ll find some way to spin this into a grand conspiracy and warn all the parents to keep their girls at home until you catch whoever did this.” She started grumbling. “It should be frickin’ illegal for the chief to have given them their own radios. Now every newsie in Nashville hovers over my shoulder while I scope a body.”
Taylor lowered her eyelids for a second and gave her best friend a half smile. “Well, honey, if it makes you feel any better, all the talking heads and their cameramen are squishing through goose poo trying to get their stories. Guess Lake Watauga has its purposes after all. Call me as soon as you have anything.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Split. You’re making me nervous.”
3
Taylor made a last slow circuit around the crime scene. The techs were carefully moving about, photographing the site from every possible angle. She half noticed them brushing fine black powder in the areas surrounding where the body had been found, looking for latent fingerprints.
Why the Parthenon? Why would the killer dump a body in the middle of West End? You couldn’t look in any direction without seeing students jogging from the gates of Vanderbilt, trendy yuppies coasting through the gourmet restaurants and bars, hippie granolas Birkenstocking their way to the natural food and clothing stores. It was a risky venture, even in the overnight hours.
She made a few notes, thinking about Sam’s comments. Staged. Huh. The scene wasn’t terribly gruesome compared to many she’d seen, but it did have a more organized feel to it—after all, he had made himself very vulnerable coming out in the open with a dead girl slung over his shoulder, risking the time to arrange her and scatter herbs on her naked body. He’d spent at least a few minutes setting things up. A huge chance to take that no one would be around. Even teenagers who were supposed to be in bed were out cruising through the park all night.
Taylor headed in the direction of her car and passed Sam’s lead investigator, Tim Davis, as he started up the stairs.
“Later, ’gator,” she called out.
Tim gave her a dirty look. “That joke is really getting old.”
She gave him her sweetest smile. “Tell that to Sam. She’s the one who christened you guys ’gators. Besides—” her voice dropped two octaves “—‘Death Investigator’ just sounds so, well, depressing.”
“Death is depressing, Taylor.” He smiled and turned away.
Taylor felt a brief qualm of conscience. Tim was one of the best ’gators the medical examiner’s office had and was deadly serious about his work.
She stopped walking and turned around to look at the Parthenon again. She stood quietly, staring at the huge structure. What the hell was this guy up to? A sacrifice to the goddess Athena, who guarded the murky interior of the building? She laughed, startling a goose ten feet away. It waddled off, honking in annoyance. Yeah, take that theory into the squad room. The boys would love it. She shook the image of the goddess out of her mind.
It was time to get to work. Taylor picked her way through malodorous fowl dung scattered all over the ground back to the phalanx of police cars. She needed to talk to the young couple who’d found the body before they were brought in to give their formal statements. She walked out into the control center and found Bob Miller, the first officer on the scene. He was short and stout with a bristling black mustache and impossibly white teeth.
“Officer Miller. Where do you have them?”
He flashed her a brilliant smile. “Hey, LT. He’s in my car, and she’s over with Wills.” Keith Wills was Miller’s partner and was becoming a specialist in handling witnesses of the female persuasion. “She’s still crying, but she’s calming down. Name’s Catey Thompson, he’s Devon Post. They got engaged last night, messed around until nearly dawn, then went out for a rrrromanteek sunrise stroll.” His dreadful Italian accent got a quick laugh and a headshake out of Taylor.
“Had they been drinking?”
Officer Miller returned to his normal southern twang. “Yeah, champagne. But they knocked off the heavy celebrating a few hours ago. They were pretty straight when they set out, and now...well, they’re scared sober, if they weren’t already.”
“Thanks, Miller. Will you stick around and make sure the scene stays sealed up tight for me? Fitz already has a grid search going on, and I don’t want anyone messing it up.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, pal, it’s gonna be a long day.”
He smiled and strode away. Taylor approached Wills, who was holding Catey’s hand and offering her a box of tissues.
“Hello, Officer Wills. Miss Thompson? I’m Lieutenant Jackson from the Homicide Division. I’m the lead detective investigating this murder. I’d appreciate it if you could give me your account of what happened this morning.”
Catey might be pretty, but Taylor was having a hard time seeing it at the moment. Long brown hair escaped the clip that held it back, and her brown eyes were bloodshot. Her perfectly petite nose was cherry red, and her face was swollen and blotchy from crying. She looked up, took a deep breath, and spoke in a soft, hesitant voice.