Charli Cross 01-Dark Purpose, page 3
part #1 of Charli Cross Series
The next person who’d come closest to grasping Charli’s off-frequency wavelength was her mom. Pain sucked the air from Charli’s lungs, wrenching her ribs and burning her chest.
Two years had passed since lung cancer had taken Carrie Cross from them. The diagnosis had come unexpectedly because her mom had never smoked a day in her life. The cancer hadn’t cared, though, spreading like wildfire and stealing her mom so much faster than the experts had predicted.
Charli’s eyes burned. Her mom had appreciated her for the daughter she was rather than the daughter she’d hoped her to be. Her dad managed to make Charli feel like a failure for staying true to herself instead of settling down with a family like he wanted.
She grimaced as she cruised down the street. Her dad didn’t even get her well enough to understand her deep-seated drive to achieve. If he did, he’d know why she devoted most of her time to the job.
At work, she had a good shot at succeeding.
Ten minutes later, Charli parked in her usual spot and headed inside. Out of the four precincts in Savannah, this one was the oldest, with all the offices housed in an unimposing three-story brick building that sat on the edge of a graveyard.
Charli entered the lobby at a brisk pace and made her way upstairs toward the small office she shared with her partner. Several pairs of eyes tracked her progress, but she ignored them. Not her problem some of the uniformed officers were jealous of her quick transition to detective. She’d never win a popularity contest around here. She could live with that.
Especially since being popular typically translated into a willingness to bitch and gossip all day long. Charli would rather peel off her own skin and set it on fire than be subjected to twenty-four-seven whining about missing out on promotions or speculating over who was banging whom.
When she burst into their cramped little office, Matthew paused over his laptop keyboard to examine her. As usual, his button-down shirt and thinning dark hair were equally rumpled. One from his inability to keep his possessions tidy for longer than five minutes, and the other from his habit of dragging his hand across his scalp when he was deep in thought.
He chuckled. “What, no fruit basket or t-shirt that says, ‘Best Detective Ever’? Gotta say I’m a little disappointed.”
“Really?” She was tempted to flip him off but refrained. “When’s the last time you ate a piece of fruit, huh?”
He scrunched up his broad face and pretended to think that over. “Does a protein smoothie count?” When Charli narrowed her eyes, he busted out into a grin. “Okay, okay, you win. I didn’t really care about the fruit basket. The shirt is still a real bummer, though.”
“Right. That’d go over about as well as that terrible elephant joke you told me yesterday did.”
“Hey!” Matthew looked genuinely offended. “That was a great joke. I can’t help it if you don’t appreciate my sophisticated sense of humor.”
Charli snorted as she arranged her bag neatly on the shelf below her desk. “It was a knock-knock joke. And it didn’t even make sense.”
He scratched his chin. “Yeah, come to think of it, that wasn’t my best offering.”
The smile left his face when she collapsed into her chair with a soft groan. “Seriously, though, you do okay on that visit?”
Charli softened at her partner’s concern. He knew how much she hated the non-detective part of the job, like dealing with the public in a one-on-one capacity or accepting kudos for simply performing her job. Out of the few people she had left, Matthew probably understood her the best. Not as good as her mom had, or Madeline, but it was something.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
He grunted and returned his attention to his laptop.
“What’re you working on there?”
Matthew shrugged. “Just wrapping up a report on that drug bust that went bad. Nothing new came down the pike except for some small-time stuff.”
That meant no new homicides, a fact for which Charli was grateful on a personal level. Professionally, though, she enjoyed a challenge. “How small are we talking?”
“One of them is a vandalism case, if that answers your question.”
Charli drooped. Ugh. Property crimes were the least interesting to her, especially lower-level ones like vandalism. She’d entered the police force to help solve murders and bring peace and closure to victims’ loved ones. Ease their pain, if only a little.
Buildings didn’t have feelings.
Three sharp raps rattled the door. Without waiting for an invitation, Sergeant Ruth Morris blew into their office, her cropped black curls gleaming beneath the artificial light. “I need both of you in Conference Room A, stat.”
Her boss’s full lips were flat, and a muscle near her right eye twitched. She glared at both of them before pivoting and marching out.
Matthew and Charli exchanged a glance.
Murder face? Matthew mouthed as they trailed their sergeant to the conference room.
Charli nodded. Definitely.
Looked like the vandalism case would be someone else’s problem.
3
Sergeant Ruth Morris pounced as soon as Charli and Matthew entered the conference room, not even giving them a chance to pull out chairs from behind the beat-up table before launching into the news.
“At one o’clock this afternoon, we received a call from a fifty-eight-year-old woman named Sherrie Johnson. She and her husband were birdwatching over in the marshes by the mouth of the Vernon River when they stumbled across an oversized plastic container, like one of those bins people store dog food in, only bigger. They opened it, hoping to find something exciting to share with their buddies at the next birder shindig. Sounds like they were none too thrilled to find human remains instead.”
Charli’s stomach lurched, but she hid her reaction. She could picture the general area Sergeant Morris was describing. Back in high school, people used to joke about hiding dead bodies there, which was mildly amusing at the time. Before Madeline was abducted.
Charli shook away thoughts of her dead friend and focused on the new case. “The recent rains might have uncovered the container, especially if the grave was shallow.”
Ruth nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Initial inspection suggests the body belongs to a young female. Possibly a teen, but we’re still waiting on confirmation.”
Charli’s heart sank while Matthew frowned. All homicides were disturbing, but young victims were a particular kind of upsetting.
“They got a time of death estimate yet?” Matthew’s voice deepened and turned gruff, a sign he’d switched into serious mode.
“No. Apparently, the body’s in pretty bad shape, so we’ll have to wait for testing for more details. Given the circumstances, I went ahead and called in the GBI to assist on this one. The DOFS will help, in case…”
Ruth’s expression hardened back into her murder face, and Charli’s pulse quickened. The Georgia Bureau of Investigation required an invitation to join a local investigation, except in very specific instances or by order of the governor. If Ruth had already requested the GBI’s Division of Forensic Sciences to assist, then she had a good reason.
For instance, if she was concerned about a repeat killer.
“Was the body mutilated in a specific way, or a body part missing? Or did they find something else in the container?” Sometimes, the sociopaths who murdered for sport left a specific signature, which manifested in different ways.
The runaway muscle near Ruth’s eye twitched. “Apparently, one of the first cops on the scene braved the smell and peeked around inside the container. He’s not sure exactly what he saw, but he said the girl was naked, and the area between her legs didn’t look like the rest of her. The skin appeared to be bunched together, possibly sewn together.”
The hairs on Charli’s arms lifted. Don’t jump to conclusions. There aren’t nearly enough facts yet. Still, if the cop was right, there was a good chance the murder had a sadistic sexual component to it.
“I’m assigning this case to you two. There are officers on the scene now, plus crime scene techs and DOFS. Janice Piper will be assisting with chasing down the paper trails, starting with missing persons reports.”
Charli nodded. Janice Piper was a detective in their department who often went drinking with Matthew. Knowing her, she was probably already griping that she’d been assigned the grunt work while Charli and Matthew got to go out in the field.
Not Charli’s problem.
Ruth crossed her arms over her chest and fixed each of them with the stink eye. “We need to stay on top of this one. I don’t need to remind you that if the body does turn out to be a missing teen, the media will be circling like vultures sooner versus later. Do not speak to anyone who approaches you about the case, journalist or otherwise. On or off the record. Is that clear?”
Charli nodded. “Yes, Sergeant.”
“Sure thing, Sergeant.”
Ruth subjected them each to another glare before her posture relaxed a little. “I know I don’t need to say this, but please remember this body belongs to someone’s child. Even if the victim turns out to be twenty, that’s too young and likely will rock the family and this community. Let’s hope it’s just the one body out there. Otherwise, you can bet your ass panic will follow.”
“We hear you, Sergeant.”
Matthew lifted his eyebrows at Charli, prompting her to agree, but her mind had already latched on to a new concern. “The location of the body worries me. The marshes are pretty isolated in that spot compared to most places around here, with soil that’s soft and easy to dig, and the area isn’t on the way to or from anywhere. Makes me think the killer is highly organized and did his research first.”
Both the hallmarks of the worst kind of serial killer. Bad news, if they did discover other bodies out there.
Ruth’s eye twitched. “The location worries me too. Why do you think I’m assigning the two of you? That was a rhetorical question, Cross.” She added that last bit with a pointed finger when Charli opened her mouth to answer.
Right. Ruth already knew Charli and Matthew had the best murder clearance rate in the Savannah PD and surrounding counties. She’d never understand the logic behind people asking questions they didn’t want answered. More than that, she found the incongruity irksome.
After several seconds when no one spoke, Ruth grunted and jerked her chin at the door. “Now, quit running your mouth and get to work.”
4
A twangy country song played as Matthew drove them south in his truck on White Bluff Road, shooting Charli sideways glances every so often.
Most days, she would have teased him by now about the growing collection of fast-food bags on the back seat of his extended cab or the persistent eau de burger. And she was always the talkative one on the way to a crime scene. She liked to go over the existing facts of the case aloud so they were cemented in her head by the time they arrived at the location, leaving Matthew to jump in with whatever his gut instinct was telling him about the case. The fact that those gut instincts turned out wrong almost as often as they paid off was exactly why Charli favored facts and analysis over magical thinking.
Today, though, she was quiet, her mind drifting as she stared out the windshield at the marshland that sprawled to the east before meeting the banks of the Vernon River. The glittering water reminded her of the day Marcia Ferguson had sobbed on the phone as she gave Charli the dreaded news.
“They found her! They found Madeline’s body, buried out by the Vernon. Some monster k-killed my b-baby and left her in the mud to rot.”
“Everything okay, Charli?”
She flinched, her fingers jerking the pendant she’d been clutching. She opened her hand and stared down at the half of a golden heart nestled in her palm. Until Matthew interrupted her, she hadn’t even realized she’d been touching the necklace again.
Charli flipped the charm over and stroked the engraved letters.
BFF.
“Charli? It’s not like you to go silent. You’re starting to worry me a little.”
She slipped the pendant back under her blouse. “Sorry. This case is dredging up old memories, that’s all.”
“That friend of yours who was murdered back in high school?”
“Yes.” Charli hated the sympathy in Matthew’s voice. Hated that he knew about Madeline at all, along with the rest of the people at work. Her friend’s death was personal to Charli. A hurt she wanted to mourn in private, not a scar for everyone to see and discuss.
She angled her body toward the passenger window. She didn’t like feeling so exposed.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Charli shook her head. “Not really.” Matthew was the closest friend she had these days, but even talking to him about Madeline seemed wrong and only upped her anxiety.
Although, ever since Ruth had filled them in on the case, not talking wasn’t doing wonders for her anxiety, either. As the distinct odor of salt and sulfur trickled in despite the closed windows, the memories grew increasingly difficult to keep at bay.
She dug her nails into her thighs and blew out a quiet breath, sensing Matthew’s gaze on her again.
“I hate cases like this one. That could be my daughter they found, you know?”
Charli winced. She’d been so wrapped up in her own trauma that she’d momentarily forgotten Matthew had a teenage daughter. “Sorry, that’s such a terrible thing to have to think about. How’s Chelsea doing, anyway?”
He lifted his broad shoulders. “Last I heard, she’d taken up the violin. Still totally into all the K-pop stuff, though. I just don’t get it.”
His bafflement made Charli smile. “You and half the dads in this country, but that’s okay. Historically, the musical tastes of parents and their children have always diverged.”
Matthew snorted. “Yeah, but at least the stuff I liked as a kid was good.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Besides, have you seen some of those K-pop singers dance?” She bobbed her eyebrows at him. “Pretty impressive.”
Her partner groaned. “Please, don’t tell me you’re gonna insist on playing K-pop now when it’s your turn to pick the music.”
Charli tapped her chin, pretending to think about it. “Depends on whether or not you keep calling me Smalls.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll quit!”
Charli’s grin faded as they pulled up behind a long row of squad cars and vans on the side of the road.
Time to get down to business.
The murder site was already swarming with people by the time Matthew and Charli climbed out of the truck. Uniformed police officers dotted the area near the yellow crime scene tape stretched between strategically arranged pylons. Additional officers were off in the distance, mingling with Savannah PD’s crime scene techs and the GBI’s forensic specialists, some of whom were easy to spot in their white plastic Tyvek suits.
Charli scoured the area. “No news vans…yet. That’s good, at least.”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
Charli was glad she’d worn combat-style boots as they picked their way through the swampy grass and mud toward the yellow crime scene tape.
Matthew waved at two officers who stood guarding the entrance to the scene. “Ronnie. Pat.”
Savannah might be a city, but it had somehow clung to that small-town vibe, where pretty much everyone knew everyone, at least in the law enforcement circle.
“Hey, you two. Throw on some booties from the box and stick to the obvious footpath as much as possible, or else they’re gonna yell at you down there. We already got an earful from the GBI about ‘trampling the crime scene like a herd of elephants.’ Can you believe that nonsense?” Ronnie, a lanky officer with a dark mustache, rolled his eyes, inviting Charli and Matthew to join in.
Much better at playing the game, Matthew cracked a smile while Charli frowned. “Did you trample the scene?”
Ronnie stared at Charli like she was some weird specimen beneath a microscope. She returned his gaze without blinking. If she cowered every time another cop gave her that look, she’d spend half her time on her belly.
She was close enough to the ground as she was.
“We walked up to the scene like anyone else would have. How the hell could we have known what we’d find?”
Matthew nudged Charli to move, but she ignored his cue. “Didn’t the people who called tell you it was a dead body?”
Ronnie’s cheeks turned blotchy. “People call in about dead bodies all the time, and more often than not, they turn out to be old chicken bones, or maybe a dead dog.”
True. But until the remains were verified as human or not, the crime scene should be approached with caution.
Matthew cut in. “I hear you. Charli, we’d better get a move on if we don’t want Ruth busting our balls.” He lifted the yellow tape for her to duck under.
“I don’t have balls to bust.” She took his cue and scooted under the tape because her partner’s sentiment was correct, even if his wording wasn’t.
He contorted his tall frame to fit beneath it, and they headed down the well-trodden path.
Despite all the people milling about, the crime scene was quieter than usual. More subdued. Like ER doctors, most officers became detached when dealing with death after a while. Shouting and raucous laughter was frowned upon, but the intermittent chatter and an occasional joke to break the tension were standard fare.
Not today, though. Today, everyone was wearing identical grim expressions.
Even the most hardened cops weren’t comfortable cracking jokes if they were potentially looking at a killer who targeted teens. That was Charli’s presumption for the atmosphere until a breeze kicked up off the river.
The stench hit her a few moments later. Rotting meat that was foul and so strong Charli’s eyes started to water.
“Jesus.” Matthew made a small gagging noise and averted his face.
