Page 10 of Deathmarch

“The scarf muffled her. She didn’t talk much. Like she was trying to say as little as possible. I introduced myself. She only gave meAbby. No last name.”

“Some people get nervous around the police.”

“I’m not in uniform. I’m not in a cruiser. She had no way of knowing that I’m a cop. I didn’t tell her.”

Several seconds of silence stretched on the line before Murph offered, “Look at the insurance and registration in the glove compartment. Then call Leila at the station and have your mystery woman run through the system.”

Harper thought about it, but going through the glove compartment would constitute an illegal search. The owner of the vehiclehadgiven him the keys, but she hadn’t known he was a police officer. And he wasn’t on duty.

“I can just have the license plate run,” he said. “And she’s notmymystery woman.”

Although, shewasa mystery.

“How old is she?”

“Not too old, judging by her voice and her ability to carry the massive fur coat. No idea what shape she was under there. Her hat covered her hair. Her scarf hid most of her face. Her eyes are brownish, as far as I could tell in the cab’s dim light. I spent half an hour with her, and I have nothing.”

“Losing your touch, bro.”

Harper didn’t dignify that with a response. He panned the car with his flashlight again, ready to hang up with Murph so he could call Leila with the license plate number, but then he saw something he’d missed before.

“Aw, hell.”

“What?”

“Blood on the car.” Big blotches of frozen red, like raspberry Slurpee. “On the handle of the passenger-side rear door.”

Murph’s tone switched to all-business. “Was there any blood on her?”

“I don’t think so. Not on her hands. I watched her put on her seat belt. She didn’t have gloves.” The overhead light had still been on at that point. He was a cop, dammit. If there’d been blood, he would have noticed.

“Probable cause,” Murph gave his opinion over the phone.

Yeah.Few things were more probable cause than fresh blood.

Harper left the red-stained door alone so he wouldn’t contaminate possible evidence. He walked around to the driver’s side instead, and since, unlike the woman, he did have gloves on, he tried the handle.

“Car’s locked, but I have the key,” he said as he slid that key into the lock. “Driver’s seat’s empty. A plastic coffee mug and a couple of used napkins in the middle console. Box of clothes on the passenger seat. More clothes and shoes on the back seat.”

Nothing suspicious.

No more blood.

No weapons in sight.

He pushed the trunk release, but it didn’t click.

“Going to look in the trunk. Man, I don’t want to find a dead body.” Because if he did, the freezing-his-ass-off part of his day was just beginning, instead of ending.

He slammed the door closed so the wind wouldn’t blow any snow inside. Even with gloves on, he touched as little as possible, didn’t want to smudge any fingerprints should he have to hunt for some later. He was careful not to rub against the car either as he trudged through the snow to the back.

She’d definitely nipped the telephone pole, whether she’d realized it or not. Hit in the middle, Harper saw as he leaned closer. The lock was popped. Damaged. Harper used his flashlight to push up the trunk lid, then panned the light around in the crowded interior.

A jumble of bags and two large suitcases occupied the space, but that wasn’t what he saw first. He stared at what saton topof those suitcases… “Wow.”

“Find a dead body?” Murph sounded almost hopeful.

“Not exactly.”