21st Birthday by Patterson, James (mystery books to read txt) 📗

She was in obvious emotional distress. Other kids were running out of the main building, hugging, crying.

Cindy reached out a hand and touched the girl’s shoulder.

“Pardon me. Can you tell me what happened?”

The student said into the phone, “Hold a second.” Then she turned back to Cindy and said, “Someone was killed. I heard she was found in her car and that there was a lot of blood.”

The student’s eyes were huge with shock.

“I’m Cindy Thomas. What’s your name?” Cindy asked her.

“Tina. Tina Hosier.”

“Tina, this is Jonathan Samuels. We work for the Chronicle. Can we talk to you?”

“Can you give me a ride home? My car’s in the parking lot.”

“Sure can.”

Cindy would have helped this distressed teen for any reason, and at this moment, she thought she had a better chance of learning something from this student than from law enforcement.

Tina spoke into her phone. “Nana. I’ve got a ride. I’ll see you in ten minutes. Love you, too.”

CHAPTER 38

“SERGEANT BOXER,” I SAID, announcing myself to the ME’s new receptionist. “Dr. Washburn is expecting me.”

“Just a moment, please.”

I stared hard at the bodybuilder behind the desk as he made the call and kept staring until he said, “Go right in.”

I thanked him, waited for the buzzer, then, pulled the door open and kept going down the hallway to the autopsy suite.

Bunny was waiting for me, blocking the entrance with her size 4 body.

“Here ya go, sergeant.”

She held up a green surgical gown. I slid my arms obediently through the sleeves. She went behind me and tied the strings back and front. Next, she handed me matching booties and a cap, and when I was appropriately garbed, Bunny said, “Okay. You’re good.”

She held open the swinging door and I stepped into the chilly tiled autopsy room. Claire stood behind the draped body on the table and said, “I haven’t started. She just got here.”

I said, “I have to see her.”

Bunny gently folded down the sheet, exposing the girl’s face, neck, and upper chest. Her eyes were half open. Lipstick smeared her lips. I groaned involuntarily. Misty Fogarty, the girl I had met for tea at four o’clock yesterday afternoon, had been effervescent and then emotional. It pained me to see her dead.

The murder weapon had opened a gaping wound, cutting through the arteries and musculature of her neck. There had been a lot of blood. Whatever hadn’t sprayed and pumped out to cover the interior of her car had stained her hair and chest.

Claire watched to make sure I was steady.

I said, “Give it to me, doctor.”

She said, “Okay, sergeant. Okay. Based only on first look, unofficially, mics off, the slime who killed this young lady has the same signature as the one who killed Wendy Franks. First, we have the slashed throat from left to right. Same blade or type of blade. And the killer made some slits in her breasts, like with Ms. Franks. Serial killer gibberish. Or so it appears pending verification. As with the previous victim, that’s your cause and manner of death. I estimate she died last night between eight and ten p.m. According to the head of school, the car was in the school parking lot overnight and Misty’s body was discovered by security this morning.”

I said, “I was with her yesterday for an hour, from four o’clock. She was asking me what to do.”

“About?”

“Lucas Burke. Remember Cindy telling us they were having an affair? I wanted to shake her. I wanted to warn her. I wanted to say, ‘Get the hell away from him. Transfer to another school. Destroy your phone, drop out of social media, change your email and your name. Disappear until Lucas Burke is locked up for good.’

“But instead, I had the good sense to ask, ‘What do you think you should do?’”

My voice broke. Bunny Ellis put her arm around my waist, and my best friend looked at me with terrible sadness in her eyes. Misty had been alive, vibrant, grinning at me yesterday. Now she was lying on a stainless steel table, her half-open eyes clouded over, mouth slack, blood still sticky in her hair.

I struggled on.

“Misty said ‘I should break up with him, right?’ and I agreed. So what’d she do? Looks like she makes a date to see him. I can hear her, crying ‘I can’t see you anymore,’ and him going, ‘Just a second, hon. I’ve got a surprise for you in the back seat.’”

Claire said, “Speculating.”

I snuffled, wrapped my arm around my face, then used the tissue Bunny tucked into my hand. After I’d mopped up and put the Kleenex in my pocket, Claire said, “Linds, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I understand, but she was a potential witness against him. You had to be neutral in that diner. And you didn’t get her killed. If you’d said, ‘Don’t see him, get out of town,’ would she have listened? She didn’t have to see him. She could have called him or texted him or just walked away. You’re not responsible.”

“I hear you. Anything else?”

“Okay. There are no bruises on her that I can see. We bagged her hands. I’ll go over every finger carefully. But I haven’t started an external exam, never mind internal. You’re about five or six hours ahead of me, girlfriend. Any questions before I sneak you out through the ambulance bay?”

I shook my head, whispered, “No. Not now. Thanks.”

“I’ll tell you this right now and for free,” Claire said, as she gently covered Misty’s face. “Assuming this same guy killed both women. Whoever he is, whatever his motive, he’s organized. Calculating. Manipulative. He kills with deliberation and precision and deceit.

“This dude doesn’t feel love. He doesn’t feel hate. He just likes to kill women.”

CHAPTER 39

LEAVING CLAIRE’S OFFICES behind me, I went for a long walk under the overcast morning sky.

I took deep