Page 4 of Last Girls Alive
“What?”
“Finishing my sentences.”
“Well… I can’t help it.”
“Fine. Just don’t do it all the time. It’s annoying,” she said, slowly walking down the trail.
“Isn’t it a form of flattery?” He smiled as he followed her back down the hillside.
“Some would think so,” she played along. “But, it’s still annoying.” Katie began to jog slowly back down the steep trail to finish cooling down and to give McGaven a break.
Her cell phone rang.
Katie pulled it out of her pocket. “Detective Scott,” she answered. “Yes, he’s here. Okay, we’re both here now,” she said and put her cell phone on speaker for McGaven to hear as he jogged over.
“I’m glad that I caught both of you at the same place,” said Sheriff Scott. His voice was serious. “Do you remember a cold case that came across your desk recently, Candace Harlan?”
Katie had to think a moment, but it came to her. “Yes, a missing persons case—actually a runaway from foster care?”
“Yes,” he said.
Katie looked at McGaven, knowing what the sheriff was going to say—she caught McGaven’s eye and they listened intently.
“I need you and McGaven to get over to Elm Hill Mansion right now. During demolition this morning, they found a body. By description, it’s likely Candace Harlan, but we won’t know officially until the body is examined. You know the most about events surrounding Candace’s case—and I want you to be the first on the scene and to work this investigation.”
“We’re actually close. Just on our way down the Brown’s Hill trail,” she said and began walking quickly, McGaven beside her.
“Good. I need you to report to Detective Hamilton immediately.”
Katie frowned and stopped, leaving a stilted silence.
“He’s been briefed and knows you’re on your way. I need you to work the crime scene with him. This was originally a cold case on your desk, so the way I see it, you have first priority to the investigation.”
“I’m sure Hamilton has it under control,” Katie insisted. She wasn’t liked by the detective, and taking over a case like this would do nothing to alleviate the tension between them.
“Katie,” the sheriff said, “it’snota request. So I would suggest getting to the scene ASAP.”
“Yes, sir. We’re on our way.”
The sheriff abruptly disconnected the call.
McGaven raised his eyebrows. “That wasn’t pleasant.”
“He’s been like that recently,” she said. “I can’t really blame him, under the circumstances; being the number one suspect in your own wife’s murder will have taken its toll. He’s just trying to regain his authority at the department again…” She moved faster along the path to get back to the parking area.
“I guess it is tough having the sheriff as your uncle,” he said.
“That’s an understatement.”
Three
Monday 0955 hours
McGaven parked the unmarked police sedan where he could between hastily parked work trucks, construction equipment and first responders. A number of construction workers, police officers, and people holding signs were obstructing the entrance to the property.
Katie had been informed that CSU were already inside the police-only area waiting for further orders from her. She took a moment in the car to watch the carefully controlled movements of deputies and forensic personnel protecting the crime scene by taping off areas in quadrants and shielding the body with a sheet. Most of the onlookers, including a few protesters that had hung around, pushed against the tape trying to get a look at the murder scene.
Katie opened the passenger door and stepped out, her running shoes instantly sinking into a puddle as the cool breeze whipped through her clothes. “Great,” she said, rolling her eyes as she trudged through sticky mud toward the yellow tape area. Neither Katie nor McGaven had had time to change out of their running attire, so they forged ahead without their badges and guns. At first glance, they looked like any nosy onlooker. Luckily, a patrol officer recognized them immediately and let them through.
