Monday. November 27. 9:15 a.m.
Reed Solliday drew a careful breath and let it out. For a split second the woman had looked angrily stunned. Well, that made two of them, because Reed wasn't thrilled about his new "partner" either. Marc Spinnelli insisted that Mia Mitchell was one of the best, but he'd seen the woman staring at the precinct door like a deer caught in the headlights. He'd stood behind her for a full minute before she'd detected his presence.
Not the highest recommendation for her skills. Plus, with her battered leather jacket, worn-out hat, and scuffed boots she'd looked… well, not like a detective he'd want watching his back. Still, he extended his hand. "Detective Mitchell."
Her grip was solid. "Lieutenant Solliday." She turned to her boss, her face calm, but her spine rigid. "What's this all about, Marc? Abe's coming back."
"Of course he is, Mia. OFI discovered a homicide in one of their arson scenes. Abe will be out for a few weeks. Consider yourself on loan. Sit down and let Reed explain."
They sat and Mitchell gave him her full attention. Her eyes were clear and alert now. And blue, like Christine's china they used only on holidays. The scruffy hat she'd worn kept her short blonde hair dry except for the edges that curled around her face. She'd stowed the ratty jacket and fortunately now looked more professional in a black blazer. Unfortunately the thin, clingy shirt she wore under the blazer didn't do a thing to hide her curves. For a small woman, Detective Mia Mitchell had a hell of a lot of curves.
Reed enjoyed staring at a nice set of curves as much as the next guy, but what he needed was a partner, not a pinup and certainly not a distraction. However, he sensed no flirtation in her, no softness, so he wouldn't hold the curves against her.
"On Saturday night there was a fire in Oak Park," he began. "We found a body in the kitchen. This morning the ME called. The X-ray showed a bullet hole in her skull."
"Carbon monoxide in the lungs?" Mitchell asked.
"Barrington was going back to check. He wanted me to know about the bullet since it changes the nature of the investigation."
"And the jurisdiction," she murmured. "You've seen the body?"
"I was going to the morgue after I finished here."
"You have an ID on the victim?"
"Tentative. The house is owned by Joe and Donna Dougherty. They went out of town for Thanksgiving and hired a house sitter named Caitlin Burnette. She's the right size and age, and the car we found in the garage was registered to Roger Burnette, so for now we've assumed the body we found is Caitlin. The ME will have to make a positive ID based on dental records or DNA." She flinched at that, though the movement was barely enough to catch.
Spinnelli handed her a sheet of paper. "We printed a copy of her license from the DMV's files."
She studied the page. "She was only nineteen," she said, her voice gone low and husky. She looked up, her blue eyes now dark. "You've informed the parents?"
The thought of breaking the news to the girl's parents nauseated him. It always did. He wondered how homicide detectives hardened themselves to the task, doing it every day. "Not yet. I went by the Burnettes' twice yesterday, but nobody was home."
Spinnelli sighed. "There's more, Mia."
Reed grimaced. "If the body in the morgue is Caitlin Burnette, her father's a cop."
"I know him," Spinnelli said. "Sergeant Roger Burnette. Vice for the last five years."
"Oh shit." Mitchell rested her forehead against her palm before shoving her hand through her short hair, leaving it standing in blonde spikes. "Could it be a grudge kill?"
Reed was wondering the same thing. "I guess that's what we have to find out. The Doughertys are flying back some time today. I'll interview them when they come home."
She met his eyes for a brief instant. "We'll interview them," she corrected quietly.
The challenge was implicit. Annoyed, he nodded. "Of course."
"We'll need to get a crime scene unit out there." She frowned. "You've already been over the house, right? Shit, this rain's gonna make a mess of things."
"We were out there all day yesterday. I photographed every room and gathered samples for the lab. Luckily we tarped the roof. The rain shouldn't be a problem."
She nodded evenly. "Okay. What kind of samples?"
"Carpet, wood. I was looking for evidence of accelerants."
She tilted her head a fraction. "And?"
"My instruments say they're there and the accelerant dog picked up two different kinds. Gasoline and something else. The lab said they'd have results later today."
She shook her head. "As crime scenes go, this one's going to suck eggs. Marc."
Reed straightened. "Our procedure is to gather evidence to support arson as quickly as possible. We got a warrant. We took nothing more than we needed to establish source and cause until we knew how the girl had died. Our search is clean."
Her eyes softened a fraction. "I wasn't talking about your search, Lieutenant. 1 was talking about fire scenes in general." She glanced at Spinnelli. "Can you send a uniform to the Dougherty house? Make sure nobody touches anything until we get there."
"We've got a security guard there at the scene," Reed said stiffly. "Although if you're willing to foot the bill for round the clock surveillance, I'll send our guy back. Our budget isn't as big as yours."
"That's fine. Now that it's a homicide I'd rather have a cop on hand anyway. No offense," she added quickly. "I'll call Jack and ask him to meet us there with his CSU team."
"I've got two team members waiting for them at the house. Foster Richards and Ben Trammell. They'll be able to let them in and show them what we did yesterday." He'd already called the two men and told them to be ready to join the team he knew Homicide would be sending. He'd added a warning to Foster to play nice in the sandbox with CSU. He'd added a warning to Ben to watch Foster.
She rose. "Good. But first, let's go to the morgue to see what Caitlin can tell us."
Spinnelli stood as well. "Call me when you've notified the parents. I'll contact Burnette's captain so his precinct can send flowers or whatever."
"You'll want to update the warrant" Reed said. "Ours was specific to the arson."
Spinnelli nodded. "I'll call the state attorney's office and have your warrant by the time you get out to the scene."
Mitchell tilted her head toward Spinnelli. "Lieutenant Solliday. can you give us a few minutes alone? You can wait at my desk. It's the one next to the clean one."
"Sure." He eased the door closed, but instead of going to her desk he leaned against the wall, his head angled toward the door to maximize his eavesdropping.
"Marc, about Abe's case," she said.
It was the second time she'd mentioned Abe. He glanced over at the clean desk. That would be Abe's, he surmised.
Spinnelli's voice held a warning note. "Howard and Brooks are on it."
"Murphy says the trail is cold."
"That's true. Mia, you-"
"I know, Marc. This is my priority and you know it will be. But if I hear something, if anybody hears anything and I'm available… Dammit, Marc, I saw him." Her voice became fierce. "If I see the asshole that got Abe, I'll know him."
"He got you, too, Mia."
"A damn scratch. Marc, please." There was a pause. "I owe it to Abe. Please."
Another pause, then a sigh. "If you're available, I'll call you."
"I appreciate it." The door opened and Reed made no attempt to move. He wanted her to know he'd heard. Color flooded her cheeks, her eyes narrowing as she saw him standing there. For a few seconds she just stared up at him, annoyance in her eyes.
"Let's go to the morgue," she said flatly and turned for her desk where she grabbed the ratty jacket and hat. "Here's your umbrella."
She tossed it to him, then gingerly she shrugged into the jacket, favoring her right shoulder. Spinnelli said she was fully recovered, but Reed had his doubts. If she wasn't, he was going straight back to Spinnelli for another detective. She took the stairs two at a time which he suspected was a combination of pent anger and the desire to make him jog to keep up. He'd already worked out that morning, so he took the stairs one at time, letting her wait on the street. He put up his umbrella but she stepped away.
"I don't have my department vehicle back yet and my own car's very small," she said, not turning around when he caught up. "You wouldn't fit."
Her words held obvious double meaning. He chose to ignore the personal dig and focus on the issue of transportation. "I'll drive." Reed considered offering her a boost up into his Tahoe, but she swung up into the cab with surprising agility and only a minor grunt of pain. He slid behind the wheel and looked over at her pointedly. "You're not ready to be back yet, are you?"
She flicked him an angry glance before staring straight ahead. "I"m cleared for duty."
He started the engine, then settled back in his seat, waiting for her to meet his eyes. A minute of silence ticked by before she finally turned her head, frowning.
"Why are we still sitting here?" she demanded.
"Who is Abe?"
Her jaw clenched. "My partner."
And you're not, was the silent addendum. "What happened to him?"
"He got shot."
"I take it he'll be all right."
He wouldn't have seen her flinch had he not been looking for it. "Eventually."
"You were shot, too."
Her cheeks hollowed. "A scratch."
He sincerely doubted that. "Why were you staring at the glass this morning?"
Her eyes flashed. "None of your damn business."
It was exactly what he expected her to say. Nevertheless, he'd say his own piece. "I'm afraid I have to disagree. Like it or not, you're my partner for the foreseeable future. Anybody could have gotten the jump on you this morning, gotten your weapon, hurt you or somebody else. I need to know you're not going to be staring off into space when I need you, so I'll repeat the question. Why were you staring at the glass this morning?"
Something in his words struck a chord because her flashing eyes went totally cold. "If you're worried that I won't bewatching your back, worry no more, Lieutenant.
What happened this morning was my personal business. I won't allow my personal business to interfere with our work. You have my word on that."
She'd held his eyes through all her words and now that she was done, she continued to stare in a way that dared him to cross her. "I don't know you, Detective, so your word means very little to me." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to utter what he was sure would be unprintable. "But I do know Marc Spinnelli and he has confidence in your capability. I'll let this morning pass. But if it happens again, I'll ask Spinnelli for someone else. You have my word on that."
She blinked several times, her teeth clenched so hard it was a wonder they didn't shatter "The morgue. Lieutenant. If you please."
Reed put the car in gear, satisfied that he'd made his point. "To the morgue."
Monday, November 27, 10:05 a.m.
Mia was out of Solliday's SUV before he'd come to a complete stop. Threaten to go to my boss, my ass. As if he'd never gotten lost in thought in his life. So blow it off. It's no big deal. Right? She fought not to grind her teeth as Solliday followed her across the parking garage. Wrong. It was a big deal. He was right. Anybody could have surprised her, taken her weapon. She slowed her pace. She hadn't been careful. Again.
He caught up to her at the elevator and she silently pushed the button. Without a word Solliday followed her in and stood close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. He stood like a granite monolith, arms crossed over his chest which made her feel about eight years old. It was all she could do not to cower into the corner. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on the display as the numbers went up.
"I hope you accomplished your goal with that little stunt," he said, surprising her into looking up at him. He stared straight ahead, his mouth turned down in a frown.
"Excuse me?"
"Jumping from the car before it was stopped. I know you were pissed at me, but it's a long way down for you and you could have broken your leg."
Mia laughed, incredulous. "You're not my father. Lieutenant Solliday."
"Be grateful I'm not." The doors open and he waited for her to go first. "I'd have grounded my daughter for a week for a stunt like that. Two, if she gave me any lip."
Don't give me lip, girl. Mia barely controlled the flinch. When she was a kid, the snarled line was usually followed by a slap to the head that left her seeing stars. When she got older, just her dad saying that line was enough to make her draw back, earning his contemptuous laughter. She'd hated his laugh. She'd hated him. My own father.
But it wasn't her father standing next to her. It was Reed Solliday and he was holding the door that led to the morgue. "Do these things bother you?" he asked. "The victim's in really bad shape. Charred beyond recognition."
They did, but she'd die before letting him know about it. "I'm sure I've seen worse."
"I suppose you have," he murmured and stopped at the glass window to the identification room. "Barrington's busy. We'll have to wait."
Mia's stomach tightened and it had nothing to do with the body on the metal table covered with a sheet. Aidan Reagan stood next to the ME looking at X-rays. He'd see her, there was no escaping it. Abe's brother would likely be as angry as his wife had been. Aidan turned from the X-rays and immediately frowned, his eyes meeting hers through the glass. He was nodding at something ME Barrington was saying, but he never broke eye contact with her. He came through the door and stopped.
Solliday moved toward the door, but paused when he realized something was brewing. Interested, Solliday looked from Aidan to Mia, those damn dark brows of his lifted. He looked like Satan, for God's sake. Solliday, not Aidan. Aidan just looked upset.
"Can you give us a minute, Solliday?"
He nodded, obviously still curious. "I'll wait for you inside."
She turned to Aidan Reagan. "Kristen already chewed my ass this morning," she said before he could say a word, "but I'm going to the hospital to see Abe tonight, so if you want to meet me there and take what's left, be my guest."
Aidan quietly assessed her face, just as Kristen had done. "Okay. I will."
His voice was heavy with disappointment. She hated when people were disappointed. And she hated that she hated it. "I have to go."
"Mia, wait." He held out his hand, then let it drop to his side. "We were worried."
"Yeah, I know. Look, Aidan, I fucked up. Somehow I'll make it up to Abe." She moved toward the door, but Aidan caught her arm and she sucked in a painful breath.
Instantly he released her. "You still hurt."
"I'll live," she said curtly. "I'm in far better shape than Abe." Solliday was already talking to the ME. "I really have to go, Aidan."
Aidan followed her gaze through the window. "Who is that guy?"
"Solliday. He's with OFI and my new best pal until Abe comes back or we solve his homicide, whichever comes first. Solliday's fire turned up a body with a bullet."
Aidan grimaced. "Yeah, I got a glimpse of it. Better you than me, Mia."
"Gee, thanks." She pushed past him into the morgue, trying to ignore the odor that always hovered there. It was much worse today. Chemicals combined with the stench of cooked flesh to make her stomach churn. ME Barrington was sliding X-rays onto the light board and Mia forced her mind to switch out of self-pity into detective mode.
The X-rays showed a neat round hole at the base of a skull.
"There's no exit wound," Barrington was saying. "The bullet's still in there, but I can't guarantee what shape it will be in. Detective Mitchell. Good to see you back."
"Thanks." She stared at the X-ray, focusing her thoughts. "Bullet came from a.22?"
"That would be my guess." Barrington pulled the X-ray down. "No carbon monoxide in her lungs. She died before the fire started."
"He shot her execution style," Solliday noted and Barrington nodded.
"I found three breaks in one of the leg bones. Two are current. One is healed, the bone set properly, a few years ago at least, so you know she had access to good health care at one time."
"Her dad's a cop," Mia said.
He didn't blink. Not a damn flicker of emotion. "Well, find out who her dentist was. I'll get her records and make a formal ID. Until then, she's a Jane Doe." The ME walked to a table and carefully pulled back the sheet. Mia took in the sight for a split second. It was all she could manage without losing what little breakfast she'd consumed. It was bad. Worse than she'd expected. Maybe worse than she'd seen before.
Her eyes flashed to Solliday and watched his body go rigid, his skin just a little paler. He'd seen this body before, probably many others just as bad. But it wasn't revulsion she saw on his face. Just pain. He has a daughter, she thought. Young enough to still ground for bad behavior. Thinking that somewhere in the neat suit beat a heart helped her get over her own nausea at the sight of the blackened corpse. She forced herself to look at what remained of a nineteen-year-old girl. She had a job to do.
A macabre blackened face stared up from the gleaming silver of the table. Charred skin stretched tight over her facial bones. A few tufts of hair remained. Blonde, like the driver's license photo Solliday had shown her. She'd been such a pretty girl. So young. She'd been smiling for the DMV's camera. Now her nose was gone and her mouth was open grotesquely, as if on a final, eternal scream. What did he do to you, Caitlin?
"Was the victim sexually assaulted?" she asked, her voice steady.
"I can't tell. If she was, we may never know, but I think there's a chance she might have been. I found nylon fibers from her clothing melted onto her upper torso, but none below her waist or on her legs. She might have been wearing cotton, but…" He let the thought trail. "I'll test further, but I'd guess she was only wearing a shirt."
"Wonderful," Solliday muttered. "One more thing to tell her parents."
On this they could agree. "We need to see them," Mia murmured. "As soon as possible." She turned away from the charred corpse and closed her eyes for the space of a deep breath. "First the parents, then the crime scene."
Monday, November 27, 11:00 A.M.
The Burnettes lived in a tidy little house, the kind you'd expect on a cop's salary. Pretty curtains hung from the windows and a picture of a turkey still covered the door.
Solliday parked his SUV on the street. They'd been silent the better part of the trip as Mia reviewed the notes he'd made of the Dougherty fire scene, but now Solliday's heavy sigh cut through the silence between them. "You want to lead this?" he asked.
"Sure." This was the kind of visit she hated most, the kind that made her feel most inept. I miss Abe. Her partner always seemed to know what to say to grieving parents. "This could have been a grudge kill or a random stalking. But Caitlin could have been involved in something. We'll need to explore possibilities no parent wants to consider."
"I know," he said grimly. He wasn't looking forward to this any more than she was. Mentally she'd reevaluated Reed Solliday. Having made his point, he hadn't belabored it, instead giving her quiet on the drive over. It allowed her to settle her mind and consider the morning from his point of view. He'd been polite, compassionate. Generous, even. Had circumstances been reversed, she might not have been as nice.
The notes she'd reviewed were concise, his handwriting square and neat. She glanced at his crisply knotted tie and the clean lines of the thin goatee that framed his mouth. His shoes were buffed to a shine. Square and neat. That about summed him up.
But something inside her balked at dismissing him so easily. There was more to this man than met the eye, although what met the eye was really quite nice. He'd given her his umbrella when he thought she was in need. It was… sweet. Unsettled, she focused on his notes. "Three points of origin?"
"Kitchen, bedroom, and living room," he confirmed. "He meant that house to burn."
"And for Caitlin's body to be destroyed." She slid from the SUV. "I hate these visits."
"Me, too."
Fire marshals had to pay these kinds of visits, too. She'd never given it that much thought before. Then again, who knew which was worse-telling a parent their child had been murdered or that they'd died in a fire so severe that their body was no longer recognizable? Either way, it was the part of the job that sucked the very most.
Mia rapped on the door. The blue curtains parted and a pair of eyes peeked out at them, widening when Mia showed her shield. In a few seconds the door opened and a woman in her late forties stood before them, her face already showing signs of panic.
She was small, like the body on the table. "Are you Mrs. Ellen Burnette?"
"Yes." She turned. "Roger! Roger, come here. Please."
A burly man appeared in his bare feet, his eyes flickering in fear. "What's wrong?"
"I'm Detective Mitchell and this is Lieutenant Solliday. May we come in?"
Wordlessly Mrs. Burnette led them into the living room and lowered herself to the sofa. Her husband stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
Mia sat down on the edge of a chair. "We're here about Caitlin."
Ellen Burnette flinched as if she'd been slapped. "Oh God."
Roger Burnette's hands clenched. "Was there an accident?"
"When was the last time you talked with her?" Mia asked gently.
Burnette glared at Mia, his throat working viciously. She knew he knew the drill. Avoidance meant the very worst. "Friday night."
"We argued," Mrs. Burnette murmured. "She went back to the sorority, and we left for my mother's for the weekend. I tried calling her yesterday, but she wasn't there."
Mia steeled her spine. "We have an unidentified body. We believe it's Caitlin."
Mrs. Burnette slumped forward, covering her face with her hands. "No."
Burnette's hands clutched at empty air, then gripped the sofa. "What happened?"
"Lieutenant Solliday is with the fire marshal's office. The home of Joe and Donna Dougherty burned to the ground this weekend. We believe Caitlin was in the house."
Mrs. Burnette was weeping. "Roger." Numbly, Burnette sat next to his wife.
"She was just supposed to get the mail. Feed the cat. Why couldn't she get out?"
Mia glanced at Solliday. His face was hard, but his eyes were pained. And he was silent, letting her lead. "She didn't die as a result of the fire, sir," she said and watched Mrs. Burnette's head jerk up. "She was shot. We're ruling her death a homicide."
Mrs. Burnette turned into her husband's arms. "No."
Burnette's eyes never left Mia's as he rocked his wife. "Do you have any leads?"
Mia shook her head. "None yet. I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you some questions. You said Caitlin lived at a sorority. Which one?"
"TriEpsilon," Burnette said. "They're good girls."
That would remain to be seen. "Can you give us the names of her friends?"
"Judy Walters." he said through his teeth. "Her roommate."
"Did she have any boyfriends?"
"She did, but they broke up. Joel Rebinowitz." Burnette's jaw was tight.
Mia noted it in her notebook. "You didn't like him, sir?"
"He played around, partied too much. Caitlin had a future."
Mia tilted her head forward. "You argued on Friday. What about?"
"Her grades," Burnette said flatly. "She was failing two classes."
Solliday cleared his throat. "What classes was she failing?"
Burnette looked furiously bewildered. "Statistics, maybe? Hell, I don't know."
Mia steadied herself. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Did your daughter have any issues with drugs or alcohol?"
Burnette's eyes narrowed to slits. "Caitlin didn't do drugs and she didn't drink."
It was what she had expected. "Thank you." She stood up and beside her Solliday stood, as well. She'd saved the worst for last. "We're going to have to identify the body."
Burnette lifted his chin. "I'll go," he said.
Mia glanced at Solliday whose face was still stoically expressionless, but his eyes flickered with pity. Mia sighed quietly. "No, sir. We'll need to use dental records."
Mrs. Burnette lurched to her feet. She ran to the bathroom and Mia winced at the sound of the poor woman retching. Mr. Burnette came to his feet unsteadily, his face a deathly gray. "I'll get the name of our dentist." He made his way to the kitchen stiffly.
Mia followed him. "Sergeant. You're limping."
He looked up from a little black phonebook, his face haggard. "I pulled a muscle."
"On the job?" Solliday asked quietly from behind her.
"Yeah. I was chasing…" His voice drifted away. "Oh my God. This was because of me." He sunk onto a barstool at the counter. "Somebody getting back at me."
"We don't know that, Sergeant," Mia murmured. "We have to ask the questions. You know that. I'll need names of anyone who's threatened you or your family."
His laugh was harsh. "You'll need more pages than you've got in your little book, Detective. My God. This is going to kill my wife."
Mia hesitated, then gave in and laid her hand on his forearm. "It may have been random. Let us investigate. Now if you'll get me the name of the dentist, we'll go."
"Dr. Bloom. He's local." Burnette met Mia's eyes directly. "Tell me," he said in a low voice. "Did he…?"
Mia hesitated. "We don't know."
He looked away, cocking his jaw. "I understand," he bit out.
Mia leaned forward, snagging his attention again. "No, Sergeant. I mean we really don't know. I wouldn't lie to you."
"Thank you." She'd started to move away when he caught her arm hard and it was all she could do not to flinch in pain. But she didn't, shaken when his eyes filled with tears. "Find the bastard who did this to my baby girl," he whispered, then let her go.
Mia straightened, her shoulder burning like a live flame. "We will." She slid one of her cards across the counter. "If you need me, my cell phone number is written on the back. I'd appreciate it if you didn't let Caitlin's friends know that anything's happened."
"I know the drill, Detective," he said between his teeth. "Just get her released as fast as you can so we…" His voice broke. "So we can bury our child."
"I'll do everything I can. We can see ourselves out." She waited until she was in Solliday's SUV before hissing out a breath of pain. "Goddammit, that hurt."
"I have some Advil in the glove compartment," Solliday said.
Mia moved her arm and winced at the fire that raced up into her shoulder. "I think I'll accept." She found the bottle and dry swallowed two pills. "My stomach's going to hate me later, but my arm thanks you now."
One side of his mouth lifted. "You're welcome."
"I hate these visits. Their kids are never screwed up, never in any trouble."
"I think it's worse when they're cops," Solliday observed.
"That's the truth." It came out more fervently than she'd intended.
He glanced over at her before pulling into traffic. "Personal experience?"
If she didn't tell him, he'd ask around. "My father was a cop."
He lifted a brow, looking like Satan again. "I see. He's retired?"
"He's dead," Mia said. "And before you go asking around, he died three weeks ago."
He nodded, his eyes glued to the road. "I see."
No, you don't. But she wouldn't argue. "Cops' kids go astray, like everybody else's."
"Did you?"
"What, go astray? No, I didn't." And that's all he needed to know. She looked through her notes. "This could have been random. Somebody could have broken in to rob the Doughertys and found Caitlin there feeding the cat."
"She wasn't feeding the cat." He glanced over at her before returning his eyes to the road. "I didn't want to say anything to Burnette, but I found pages of a statistics book in the Doughertys' spare bedroom. I think she went there to study."
Mia considered the compassionate restraint he'd shown with the parents. "The Burnettes don't need to know that," she agreed. "That they fought over grades and that she was there to study would be salt in their wound. Let's go to the Doughertys' now. CSU should be there already."