guy was incredibly stupid, thinking he could destroy a body with fire, or he’s got a different motive for the arson.”
Finn seemed to scan the darker recesses of the burned shell. “I’m betting he torched this place to destroy evidence. An arson scene is an entirely different ball game than anything you’ve investigated. Often you’re looking at minimal or no trace evidence. You’ve got temps of a thousand degrees ripping through here. Flames and smoke, falling debris. And then you’ve got your fire crews trampling every last square inch of the place. Doesn’t leave much chance for solid evidence. I’m guessing our guy knew that.”
“But why not make it really tough on us then?” she asked. “Why did the son of a bitch just leave her purse like that?”
“Because it’s not her identity he’s trying to conceal with the fire, Kay. It’s his own.”
4
KAY SCANNED THE DESTRUCTION AGAIN. Finn was right. It was unlike any other scene she’d worked. It was foreign. Nothing here spoke to her. Nothing cried out with answers.
Her gaze stopped on Finn. It was the first time in months she’d really seen him. He looked rumpled. It wasn’t just the creased and smudged suit that his dry cleaner on Broadway would curse him for bringing in. His eyes looked tired and he needed a shave. Between his Latin complexion and his sleek, black hair pulled into the usual ponytail, he looked more like a hit man for a Colombian drug cartel than a forty-year-old, black-Irish murder cop from Baltimore.
She regretted shutting Finn out, Kay realized then. Regretted not letting him be there for her. Of everyone, Finn understood what it was like to lose someone, and to feel responsible for that death.
Kay averted her gaze when he caught her stare.
“Any thoughts on whether this could be related to Eales?” he asked her. “With his trial starting in the next couple weeks …”
Kay shook her head. “I just don’t see it. Eales doesn’t have the money or the brains to arrange something like this.”
Kay looked to the body. Valley . Almost a year ago the girl had finally agreed to meet with Kay. Out on Calvert Street, just down from the glitz and squalor of The Block, the young hooker had shivered in a halo of breath vapor as she accepted Kay’s own scarf and gloves. How many times had Kay told the girl she was doing the right thing by testifying? Assured her she’d be safe?
“Then maybe it’s random,” Finn said. “She could have been hooking again and got picked up by the wrong john.”
Kay didn’t want to believe it.
“When was the last time you talked to her?” he asked.
“Couple months, I guess. I got her a job in the State’s Attorney’s Office. Filing. Answering phones.”
“Well, hooking certainly pays better than a city wage.”
Kay hoped he wasn’t right.
“What about family?” he asked.
“There isn’t any. Mom bailed, and father died when Valley was six.”
“Adoptive parents?”
“No. She was in and out of foster homes.” Kay shook her head. “Damn it, Finn, this girl pulled her life together.”
“Detective Delaney, at long last.” Niles Fischer sloshed toward them, his assistant carrying a litter. They stopped within the circle of light, and Fischer cracked her a dry smile.
“How are you doing, Niles?”
“Complaining never got me nowhere. Seen everything you need to see?”
“Pretty much. Can you tell me anything about her?”
The ME’s investigator shrugged. “Not much. Victim was probably deceased before the fire started. Not sure how though.”
“What is that, you figure?” Kay pointed to the four-inch gash along the top right side of Valley’s skull. The thin layer of flesh beneath glared pink against the seared skin. “Is that a laceration from a blow?”
“Could be. More likely a heat rupture though. With temperatures this intense, the soft tissue splits. Especially tissue close to bone.” Fischer arranged the heavy plastic
Finn seemed to scan the darker recesses of the burned shell. “I’m betting he torched this place to destroy evidence. An arson scene is an entirely different ball game than anything you’ve investigated. Often you’re looking at minimal or no trace evidence. You’ve got temps of a thousand degrees ripping through here. Flames and smoke, falling debris. And then you’ve got your fire crews trampling every last square inch of the place. Doesn’t leave much chance for solid evidence. I’m guessing our guy knew that.”
“But why not make it really tough on us then?” she asked. “Why did the son of a bitch just leave her purse like that?”
“Because it’s not her identity he’s trying to conceal with the fire, Kay. It’s his own.”
4
KAY SCANNED THE DESTRUCTION AGAIN. Finn was right. It was unlike any other scene she’d worked. It was foreign. Nothing here spoke to her. Nothing cried out with answers.
Her gaze stopped on Finn. It was the first time in months she’d really seen him. He looked rumpled. It wasn’t just the creased and smudged suit that his dry cleaner on Broadway would curse him for bringing in. His eyes looked tired and he needed a shave. Between his Latin complexion and his sleek, black hair pulled into the usual ponytail, he looked more like a hit man for a Colombian drug cartel than a forty-year-old, black-Irish murder cop from Baltimore.
She regretted shutting Finn out, Kay realized then. Regretted not letting him be there for her. Of everyone, Finn understood what it was like to lose someone, and to feel responsible for that death.
Kay averted her gaze when he caught her stare.
“Any thoughts on whether this could be related to Eales?” he asked her. “With his trial starting in the next couple weeks …”
Kay shook her head. “I just don’t see it. Eales doesn’t have the money or the brains to arrange something like this.”
Kay looked to the body. Valley . Almost a year ago the girl had finally agreed to meet with Kay. Out on Calvert Street, just down from the glitz and squalor of The Block, the young hooker had shivered in a halo of breath vapor as she accepted Kay’s own scarf and gloves. How many times had Kay told the girl she was doing the right thing by testifying? Assured her she’d be safe?
“Then maybe it’s random,” Finn said. “She could have been hooking again and got picked up by the wrong john.”
Kay didn’t want to believe it.
“When was the last time you talked to her?” he asked.
“Couple months, I guess. I got her a job in the State’s Attorney’s Office. Filing. Answering phones.”
“Well, hooking certainly pays better than a city wage.”
Kay hoped he wasn’t right.
“What about family?” he asked.
“There isn’t any. Mom bailed, and father died when Valley was six.”
“Adoptive parents?”
“No. She was in and out of foster homes.” Kay shook her head. “Damn it, Finn, this girl pulled her life together.”
“Detective Delaney, at long last.” Niles Fischer sloshed toward them, his assistant carrying a litter. They stopped within the circle of light, and Fischer cracked her a dry smile.
“How are you doing, Niles?”
“Complaining never got me nowhere. Seen everything you need to see?”
“Pretty much. Can you tell me anything about her?”
The ME’s investigator shrugged. “Not much. Victim was probably deceased before the fire started. Not sure how though.”
“What is that, you figure?” Kay pointed to the four-inch gash along the top right side of Valley’s skull. The thin layer of flesh beneath glared pink against the seared skin. “Is that a laceration from a blow?”
“Could be. More likely a heat rupture though. With temperatures this intense, the soft tissue splits. Especially tissue close to bone.” Fischer arranged the heavy plastic
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