Page 48 of Little Girls Sleeping

“I see,” she replied.

“I like your questions,” the doctor said. “I can tell we’re going to work well together. Most detectives hear what I have to say and then they’re gone. And some don’t even set foot in here.”

“I admit, I wanted to run away fifteen minutes ago,” she said.

“Just hang in there.” He smiled. His relaxed and open demeanor made the experience of being in the morgue a little more tolerable.

“So what you’re saying is you have to ask plenty of questions and you just might learn something of value.”

“Maybe I should have that written on the wall in here. What do you think?”

“I think I shouldn’t worry so much at this point about the exacttime of death and concentrate on how and why these two girls were murdered.”

Dr. Dean covered Tammie Myers’ body and turned to look at Katie. “Detective Scott,” he said, “I think you’re going to make a first-rate detective. You’ve got a fantastic career ahead of you.”

“You tell fortunes too?”

“Sometimes. A word of advice?”

“And what would that be?” Katie smiled.

“Don’t let bullying detectives affect your mind, your drive, or your natural ability to find the killer. I have confidence in you and I know you’ll figure out this case.”

Katie was taken aback for a moment. Her mind spun in confusion and gratitude. Not many people had been nice or even cordial to her after she returned to town. Her suspicious nature thought that maybe the doctor wanted something from her—perhaps to cover up a mistake or procedural improprieties when the time called for it. She stared at him trying to get a handle on his motivation. Nothing came to mind.

He returned the file to the work counter and turned to Katie one more time. “I’ve been known to have a nice bedside manner in my job, but I’ve also been known to tell it exactly how it is.” He paused. “Have a good day, Detective.”

He walked out of the room, leaving her alone to ponder everything she had just heard and seen. It seemed to indicate the killer was more adept than she had previously thought.

Twenty-Seven

The early-morning air and lack of traffic made the run that much more satisfying. It was more than a feeling. It was an emotion so strong that it filled Katie’s entire body with positivity and hope. She vowed that every morning when her schedule permitted she would run.

The two homicides filtered through her mind, backwards and forwards. She had memorized every detail from the interviews and the information she had received on the case.

Since she didn’t have an office at the department, she continued to use her spare room at home. It was actually quite effective, with no interruptions or employee interaction. Just a quiet space to consider the investigation. It suited her needs perfectly.

The case continued to run its course in her mind.

Hand-made caskets. Woodworkers? Artisans? Locals?

The sun rose higher on the horizon and peeked through the trees; weak rays cascaded between leaves and branches. It was a shame the fog was closing in and would soon smother the sunlight.

Lonely rural places ending up as well-researched gravesites.

Crisp morning air nipped at her face.

Frustration. Hunting for the perfect prey. Abduction. Murder.

Her fingertips became numb as her arms pumped harder, increasing her speed.

Final resting places.

Cold cases.

Her feet pounded the ground and her pace quickened with strength and determination. Her footfall was a steady beat on the roadway and dirt paths.

Mrs. Stanley: subtle sexuality and her relationship with the Comptons. Improprieties. Perversions?