Page 17 of Last Girls Alive
“Is there any problem with taking the case?” the sheriff asked.
Katie blinked and said, “No, not at all.”
“Good. Of course, John and Detective Hamilton will be available to you as well.”
“Yes, much appreciated.” Katie finally made eye contact with the rest of the group. John cracked a slight smile although Detective Hamilton’s serious expression was hard to read.
The sheriff went on to explain that they had to continue writing daily reports and submitting them to him and internal affairs. Katie’s mind went numb, still trying to work out what was going on. When the sheriff had finished, he excused her and McGaven and began talking with the other members.
Katie tapped McGaven on the shoulder and they just were heading out of the room when Undersheriff Sullivan stopped her.
“Detective Scott?” she said, her voice low and direct.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to tell you in person. I’ve read your file and the cases that you’ve closed. And I’m impressed—reallyimpressed,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“And I really would like to chat with you sometime about profiling and victimology.”
“Yes, of course. I would like that,” said Katie, not really meaning it, but wanting to be polite nonetheless.
“Good. We’ll meet up soon.” She left.
In a whisper, McGaven said, “New friend?”
“Looks like it.”
Katie and McGaven hurried through the door and down the hallway.
“I’m sorry about the reprimand,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“C’mon, I think you’d be a little bit bummed.”
“No.”
“Yes you are.”
“Okay, maybe a little. But I would do what I did again in a heartbeat.”
Nine
Tuesday 0845 hours
Back in her office, Katie plunged herself into the investigation with renewed energy, filling out the lists of what they knew—even though the murder investigation had already started with an unexpected twist. Once she was finished scribbling on the big whiteboard, she stood back to take it all in from afar.
“I’m struggling too,” said McGaven, reading her mind. “Trying to get my wits around everything so far, especially after that meeting.”
His voice startled Katie, who had been concentrating so hard she’d forgotten he was in the room. “Our murder victim is our main objective,” she said. “But everything we know up to this point about Candace Harlan is also important. They are connected—somehow.” Her voice trailed off. She was stumped for the time being.
“What are the odds that a murder victim dumped at Elm Hill Mansion would so resemble Candace Harlan’s profile?”
“Well,” said Katie. “We need to start at the beginning.”
“Meaning?”
