“Kerry, please.”
He nodded. “Kerry. Until I figure out how to protect you, please don’t go out alone. When you’re in the house, don’t answer the door unless you—”
“Look in the peephole,” she finished. “I know.” Her mom had drilled in that particular life lesson. “What about driving to work?”
“I can take her,” Grandpa said.
“With all due respect, I’d feel more comfortable driving her.” Hunter’s cell phone rang and he held up a finger. “Markum.” After a moment, he mouthed, “Sailboat owner.”
She leaned forward, searching his face for a clue.
“I see... I’d still like you to take a look at something that might belong to your daughter...Yes, I can come over now if that would be convenient.” He patted his empty top pocket. He looked up and drew letters in the air.
She pulled open the drawer of the coffee table and handed him a pen. He sat back down and scribbled an address on the back of the fax she’d given him. “Thank you, sir.” Hunter tapped the phone to disconnect.
“That was Chris Norwood. He said he hasn’t heard from his daughter for over a year, but added they’d been estranged for as long. I’m going to interview him.”
“I need to come with you,” she said.
Her grandfather coughed. “You’re a civilian, sweetheart. You can’t go.”
“Your grandfather’s right.”
“I’m not about to sit home while a maniac is on the loose. I can help. If the man has a photo of his daughter, I might be able to identify her. I’m the only one who’s memorized her facial features.”
Much to her surprise, she didn’t want this time with Hunter to end. Like a warm, fleece blanket on a cold night, being with him made her feel safe—something she’d longed for, but had never found.
The detective stabbed a hand through his hair. His gaze bounced from left to right, obviously trying to weigh the odds of taking her.
“Fine. It’s not like we’re talking to a criminal. At least I hope we’re not.”
“I don’t like it,” Grandpa grumbled.
Hunter’s lips pressed together. “I’ll make certain nothing happens to her, sir. By working at the city morgue, indirectly, Kerry works for us.”
“That’s a stretch, but I know Kerry. She doesn’t understand the word no.”
Kerry’s shoulders sagged. He made her sound like an inflexible person, an image she didn’t like.
Hunter’s cell rang again. He looked at the display. “Excuse me. It’s my daughter.” He stepped toward the foyer.
Daughter? So he was married. She refused to address the churning in her stomach.
She turned to Grandpa and kept her voice low. “Don’t forget to lock all the doors, including the back door.” After he took Buster for a walk, he often left it open. “And find that revolver. No telling what the maniac might do.”
His spine stiffened, acting as though she’d tossed an insult at him. “I can take care of myself.”
“Not at eighty-one, you can’t.”
“You don’t know what I can do. I’m not so old I can’t hit what I aim at. I’ll do anything to protect you.”
Now who was the stubborn one? “Fine.”
She straightened the magazines on the coffee table and strained to hear what Hunter was saying on the phone, and how he said it.
“This detective is something else, isn’t he?” Grandpa said, interrupting her eavesdropping. She turned. He had a gleam in his eye Kerry didn’t care for.
She held a finger to her lips. “He’ll hear you!” Grandpa’s hearing wasn’t the best, and he talked louder than most. “Besides he’s married.”
She returned her attention back to Hunter’s conversation.
“Do what Aunt Jen says, okay, sweetheart? I’ll be home soon...Love you too.”
Her eyes widened. Aunt Jen? Did that mean Hunter didn’t have a wife?
9
Kerry shifted on the sofa. From what she’d told him, she’d spent most of her time in the lab, not interviewing people.
Mr. Norwood sat ramrod straight, his white knuckles gripping the sofa arm. His jaw clenched. “How can you be sure the girl you found is my daughter?”
Hunter handed him the photo of the woman’s ankle tattoo. “Sir, I’d like you to take a look at this. For confirmation.”
“Oh my God. No.” Mr. Norwood clasped the photo to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. His breaths turned rapid and his lower lip trembled. A sob escaped as tears streaked down his cheeks. “I can’t believe this is happening. My little girl can’t be gone.”
Hunter leaned forward. “Are you certain the image belongs to Janet?”
“Yes. My daughter had that tattoo done after the two of us took a two-week voyage together on my boat, the Brandywine.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He swiped a handkerchief over his eyes. “Over a year ago, maybe? She and I, um, had a falling out.”
“About what?”
He shook his head over and over again, clenched his teeth and inhaled. “I can’t believe I never had the chance to say goodbye.” He dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.
Hunter shot Kerry a glance. The man was hiding something.
Hunter’s shoulders hunched and his lips pulled into a thin line. “Mr. Norwood, do you have a photo of your daughter?”
Norwood swallowed hard, dried his tears and stood. “Yes. I’ll get one.”
Head down, the man with the sleek silver hair and tailor-fitted suit lumbered down the long corridor lined with photographs. He slipped into one of the rooms and returned a moment later stroking his thumb on the frame.
He handed Hunter the photo. “This was the last picture I have of her. She’d been divorced for about two years from Stanton Grayson when I took it. She was twenty-five at the time.”
“She’s lovely.” The daughter was balancing on the bow, holding onto the mast, the blue ocean sparkling behind her.
“Thank you. She was happy in that picture. She’d finally found another man to marry—David Kopetski.”
Hunter handed the picture to Kerry. The girl’s long hair flowed in the wind, and her bronzed skin and broad smile seemed to take Kerry’s breath away. It was such a shame.
“I know this is a difficult time for you,” Hunter said, “but what can you tell us about her physical abuse?”
Mr. Norwood’s body went rigid. “I can’t talk about it. I don’t want to remember Janet in that way.”
Hunter leaned forward. “I know this is hard for you, but your daughter wasn’t the only body we found, sir.”
Mr. Norwood’s eyes widened. “There were more?”
“Three others. If we can understand what happened to her, perhaps we can help with the identities of the other victims and catch the person who did this to your daughter.”
Norwood stared across the room before his gaze slowly reached the ground. “How am I going to tell my wife our daughter is dead? Sharon’s in Europe right now. Oh, God. This will kill her.”
“Please, Mr. Norwood. Anything you can tell us would be a great help,” Hunter said.
He sniffled. “My wife knew more about Janet’s first husband than I did. Stanton hit out daughter. Once my wife returns from her trip, she can give you more of the details.” His lower jaw trembled. “Seems the women of the family liked to keep me out of the loop.”
Kerry caught Hunter’s eye. With raised brows and a nod in Norwood’s direction, she silently signaled she wanted to ask a question. As if they’d known each other for years, he lifted his hand in a go ahead motion.
“When I looked at her bones, I noticed she’d had jaw reconstructive surgery. What can you tell us about that?”