Page 40 of Last Girls Alive

“How many books are there?”

“Uh, four or five. No wait, six books.”

Katie jotted down some notes. “You definitely have what it takes to be a detective, you know,” she said, though numbers raced through her mind: six girls in foster care, six books in the series, and five buried stillborn babies. Could there be some connection there?

“Nah, I love it right where I am.”

Katie took the envelope from him. “I believe you’re right. You are right where you should be.” She turned to leave and said, “If you think of anything else, you know how to reach me.”

“Yes, Detective—I will certainly do that. Good luck. Do you need an escort back to the main floor?”

“I can manage, thank you.” She turned to leave, gazing at all of the historical information around her and still amazed about all she had learned about Elm Hill Mansion.

Twenty

Wednesday 1635 hours

Katie rushed back through the forensics division of the sheriff’s department to meet up with McGaven, but stopped when she heard voices coming from John’s office. Glancing in, she could see two technicians and John having a meeting, so she kept moving to her office at the end of the hall.

The office door was slightly ajar, and she could hear low voices from within. Her gut instinct put her on high alert as she pushed open the door. Leaning on the corner of her desk was Undersheriff Dorothy Sullivan, dressed in a deputy uniform instead of her expensive suit and spike heels. Her makeup had been pared back a little too.

Both McGaven and the undersheriff turned to Katie as she stood in the doorway.

McGaven raised his eyebrows at Katie, implying that he had no idea why the second highest officer at the sheriff’s department had paid an unannounced visit to their cold-case office.

“Detective Scott,” the undersheriff said. There was something in the way she pronounced “Scott” that made Katie cringe.

“Undersheriff Sullivan?” Katie replied.

“Oh no, Sullivan or Dottie is just fine,” she said and smiled broadly as she stood up, several inches taller than Katie, even without her heels.

Katie returned a smile as she dropped her briefcase and the large envelope from Shane on the desk. “Is there anything that we can do for you?”

“Oh no. I’m just making the rounds and talking with everyone—getting acquainted. I wanted to see how the cold-case unit operated. Very clever use of space here. It’s great, actually,” she said looking around and gazing at Katie’s whiteboard scribbled with notes and next leads. “I won’t keep you two. I can see that you’re busy.” She hesitated before exiting, as if on cue. “I appreciate your reports on the Harlan homicide. Keep up the great work.” She turned and then faced Katie directly. “How’s lunch sometime next week?”

“Uh, sure.” Katie tried to sound enthusiastic, but she wasn’t looking forward to being chatty with her boss or having a “girls’ lunch” either.

“Your uncle said how much you like burgers, so let’s meet for burgers then.”

“Of course. Text me the date and time,” said Katie.

Undersheriff Sullivan left.

“Well, that was exciting,” said McGaven, not looking up from the computer screen.

Katie put her index finger to her lips—giving the signal to remain quiet for a moment. She peered out the door and everything was clear. “She’s gone now.”

“Katie made a new friend,” said McGaven teasingly.

“Thanks. Why don’t you go instead?”

“C’mon, a burger power-lunch will do you good.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Here’s info and background on the girls,” he said and handed Katie a sheet of paper. “To add to your murder board.”

“Okay. Wow, not a lot of information.”