Page 6 of Unhallowed Murder
Nothing seemed out of place — no reason to think there’d been a struggle, but the scents told another tale. Terror. Anger. Rage. She breathed and memorized the males’ scents. Two of them. One was likely her boyfriend, but the other had abducted her, and she’d been terrified.
However, there was no blood and no smell of bleach. They’d abducted her from her bed and transported her elsewhere to execute her. Had they entered with lock picks, jumped her while she slept, zip-tied her wrists, and forced her to walk to her own vehicle to be driven to her execution?
No. This was a nice neighborhood — the kind where neighbors call 911 when they hear screams. However, with the large yards and buffer of trees between houses, neighbors might not have heard her scream from inside the old brick house.
Had they crammed something in her mouth to keep her silent? Or would the medical examiner discover duct tape adhesive on her lips?
There was no doubt this was one of at least two crime scenes, but she couldn’t order the crime scene techs based on scents only a supernatural could smell. She stood and looked at the room, trying to find a reason to call for them.
The bed was unmade, but most people didn’t make their beds, so unless family members insisted otherwise, this likely wasn’t unusual.
There wasn’t a bedside lamp. Had it been broken in the struggle? A cord was plugged into her alarm clock, and her phone had likely been charging on her nightstand when they took her. Ronnie pulled her phone from her pocket and texted the FBI agent.When and where did her cellphone fall off the network?
Agent Graham had been in contact with the victim in recent days. He’d have that number and had no doubt already checked.
Her home. Shortly after two this morning. Check the microwave.
Sealed phones don’t allow you to easily remove the battery. Sometimes the bad guys dunk the phones in water to kill them, but sometimes they thought they were smart by microwaving them. Leave them in too long and you get fire, but she hadn’t smelled smoke. She checked anyway, and other than noting the microwave desperately needed a good cleaning, she saw no signs it’d been used to kill a cell phone.
Agent Graham’s information gave her a reason to request the crime scene techs — if her phone fell off thegrid here, it was likely her abductors had been here. She made the call and looked over the bedroom once again.
Josef, a deputy should be here soon. He’ll camp out on the front porch and wait for the crime scene techs. I shouldn’t be much longer.
You have me until about an hour before dawn, Lieutenant. Do what you need to. I’m good.
She took pictures of every room from every wall, and then walked through with video going. The uniformed deputy she’d requested was on the front porch when she exited the home, and she instructed him that no one came in or out until another detective showed up with the crime scene unit.
She made a call to Corey, her tech guy, on the walk across the yard, back to the car. “Has anyone else used the victim’s home as an official residence since the she moved in?” He’d get around to checking that eventually, but she needed to know now.
“A boyfriend who seems to’ve moved out two years ago, but I have another lead to check out — social media’s given me a first cousin with a shitload of priors.”
“Nothing on the ex-boyfriend?”
“He’s living in Virginia. Do you want to see if I can place him in town recently?”
“No. Tell me about the cousin.”
“A long list of minor and then minor-ish offenses up until six years ago, when he was convicted of possession with intent. Spent a few years inside, moved to Chattanooga when he got out, and went off parole three months ago. Quithis mandatory day job the next day. Gang task force has some notes on him — he’s CHM.”
CHM was Clifton Hills Mafia, one of the local Latino gangs. She sighed. “Address?”
He hesitated a few extra seconds before giving it to her, and she thanked her lucky stars she had such a great team. She’d been in situations where she hadn’t been taken seriously as a woman cop, or had been hated for having a higher rank than the men under her, but her team respected her while trying to make sure she stayed safe — they never crossed the line of being insubordinate while trying to protect her, but they stepped right up to it on occasion. It was both frustrating and heartwarming, because they wouldn’t try to stop her if they didn’t care, but she could take care of herself.
While she typed the address into Google maps, she told him, “I only plan to drive by and scout the area. I won’t take action without backup, Corey.”
Corey was the only member of their team who wasn’t a sworn officer, but he was worth ten times his weight in gold.
“He has ties to the local cartel connection, which is probably why Agent Graham was brought in on the original case.”
“What do you know about this agent?”
“Specializes in gang activity. Our notes say he’s in tight with the RTMC. He’s the agent who was instrumental in bringing down Thomas Pickering.”
Pickering had been a corrupt District Attorney, and the Chattanooga PD was still trying to recover from the cluster-fuck. Graham had stuck up for the MC because it was important they be brought down the right way, and crooked cops pissed him off. She instantly felt better about her little deal with the agent. “Thanks.”
Her victim had been late twenties and Caucasian, but the cousin was listed as Hispanic, and he lived in the Clifton Hills area — ground zero for the newbrowngangs springing up and battling for power.
She detested the black/white/brown terms, but it was hard to insist on different terminology when the gangs in questions used those terms to describe themselves.
