Page 48 of Dirty Valentine
Using small evidence bags, I carefully collected samples from under each fingernail, documenting everything with photographs and detailed notes.
“Left shoe missing,” I noted, looking around the immediate area.“And her right shoe has a torn sole.”
“Found the missing shoe down by the water,” Potts said, appearing beside us with an evidence bag.Even under Daniels’s watchful supervision, she maintained her usual professional competence.
Cole approached from where he’d been interviewing the jogger, his expression grim but determined.“Peterson’s clean.Regular evening runner, lives about two miles from here.Says he saw a dark sedan leaving the area when he pulled into the park entrance.Around six o’clock.He said the car stood out because there isn’t much traffic at this time in the evening, but also because the driver almost hit the gate leaving the park.Said he was driving kind of erratically.”
“He’s sure the driver was male?”I asked.
“No,” Cole said.“He couldn’t confirm that.He said he just seemed male because of the way he drove.”
“That’s helpful,” Daniels said.
“That’s the timeline we’ll work with,” Jack said.“Victim was killed elsewhere and dumped here around six.Body was discovered ninety minutes later.”
“Wait,” Martinez said, frowning.“If Mills was dumped here at six, who was driving her car at Sheldon’s house just a few hours ago?”
“Our killer,” Jack said grimly.“They’ve been using her vehicle to move around undetected.Bold move, considering we have a BOLO out on it.”
“Or desperate,” I added.“The killer’s timeline is accelerating.”
Jack pulled out his phone, checking for updates.“Still no hits on the BOLO for Mills’s Mercedes.How does a car that distinctive just vanish?”
“It doesn’t,” I said.“That car has been all over King George the last two days—the cemetery, Sheldon’s house.Someone’s using it, but they’re being smart about where they park it.”
“I’d like to know the answer to that as well,” Jack said.
“Car might still be AWOL,” Martinez said, joining our group.“But we found her cell phone.”He held up an evidence bag containing what looked like the shattered remains of a smartphone.“Someone really didn’t want us seeing her call history.”
“I want every available unit looking for that Mercedes,” Jack said, pulling out his phone.“Roadblocks, checkpoints, BOLO alerts to surrounding counties.I want it found.”
Daniels took the bag, examining the damaged phone under the portable lights with the kind of thoroughness that made her legendary.“Might be able to recover data even with this level of damage.Maybe Lieutenant Derby could take a look.”
“The contrast between the murders is striking,” I said.“Thomas Whitman’s death was almost clinical—cardiac arrest, careful staging.But this?This is rage.Personal.”
“The killer’s deteriorating,” Jack said.“Or Mills fought back and forced them to get messy.”
“Either way, they’re not as in control as they were three days ago,” I said.
The night air carried the sound of Martinez’s voice as he coordinated with the park maintenance worker who’d seen the dark sedan.Everything felt surreal under the harsh portable lights—the way shadows danced between the trees, the constant hum of generators powering the crime-scene equipment, the methodical click of cameras documenting every detail.
Cole made the call to Derby while we continued processing the scene.Twenty minutes later, his unmarked sedan pulled into the parking area, and I watched the tall, thin man unfold himself from behind the wheel.
His blond hair was already staging its usual rebellion against whatever product he’d used to try to tame it this morning, and he pushed his glasses up his pointed nose as he surveyed the crime scene with sharp intelligence.
“Got something,” Derby called out from where he’d set up his laptop and specialized recovery equipment near Daniels’s vehicle.“Memory card is intact.I can see recent call activity.”
We gathered around his setup, watching as he navigated through recovered data with the kind of technical expertise that made him invaluable to investigations like this.
“Last outgoing call was yesterday at 5:47 p.m.,” he said, scrolling through the call log.“Number’s listed in her contacts under the initials JMH.”
“JMH?”I asked, perking up at the mention of those familiar initials
“That’s our connection,” Jack said, his voice carrying the satisfaction of a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.“JMH.is the link between both murders.”
“Can you get me a name for that number?”Daniels asked.
Derby typed rapidly, running the number through various databases.“It’s a landline registered to Judith Marie Hughes.Address is 1247 River Road.”
