Kerry looked up at him. “Did they find anything?”
They reached the other side of the street and walked to the parking lot. “The thief used a bump key to get in your house. That’s why we couldn’t tell there was any forced entry.”
“A what key?”
“Get in the cruiser and I’ll tell you.” He closed the door and rushed over to his side. “A bump key. Most people buy only a few brands of locks, like the ones found at home stores. This makes it easy for the thief to make a key that unlocks the door.”
“I don’t understand.”
Hunter started the car and immediately flipped the AC to high. “In a nutshell, the thief purchases an uncut key that fits the particular brand of lock and cuts all the ridges the same height. It takes a little practice, but when he inserts the key into the lock, and then pulls it out just a little, it makes a clicking sound. He’ll use a hammer or even the handle of a screwdriver to tap this new key just so. This allows the key to bump the tumblers into place.”
“That’s horrible. Are you saying anyone can break into any house at will?” That must have been the scratching noise she’d heard coming from the kitchen. And here, she’d thought Buster had gotten loose.
“Not if they have an alarm system or more distinctive locks.”
“That gives me the chills thinking about it.”
“Come on. I promise no one is going to break into my house. I have state of the art protection.”
It didn’t hurt to have a gun-toting Hunter around either. She’d have to call Grandpa to see what kind of new locks he’d installed on the doors.
“Did the lab find any fingerprints or trace elements to connect them to a particular person?” she asked.
“No. This person was careful, but not perfect. He dragged in little pieces of seashells on your kitchen floor.”
Seashells? “Grandpa’s house is miles from the beach.”
“Testing showed no trace of salt on the shells either. We’re now looking for someone who walked on a shell drive.” Hunter slipped onto Morgan Street.
“That’s a long shot.”
“True. But that wasn’t the only piece of evidence. While we didn’t find any discernable fingerprints inside the house, we found a footprint outside the back door.”
“Did you check to see if the print belonged to my grandfather? He goes out that way to walk the dog twice a day.”
“We checked his shoes, and they weren’t a match. The lab techs came out and made a mold of the imprint. Turns out it belongs to a Nike shoe, about size 10.”
“So all we need is to find someone with that shoe size who has a shelled drive.”
“You’ve got it.”
Kerry finished wiping down the morgue counter for the tenth time this morning. She was ready. Ready to show the world her second facial reconstruction.
This creation had taken more than a week to complete because of the work she’d had to do to prepare #4’s body for analysis. Kerry hadn’t been willing to work on the face at Hunter’s house. Melissa might have been upset to see a dead woman’s skull. After all, she’d only lost her mom two years ago. Knowing how a six-year old mind worked, Melissa would have asked a thousand questions, questions Kerry didn’t feel comfortable answering.
She checked her watch again. She had a few minutes before she had to leave for her TV interview.
Wanting to show off her creation to John, she carried her clay face across the hall, holding onto the base with both hands. She opened the door with her hip and stepped into his autopsy room. God, but the man kept this place colder than a freezer. He looked up over his mask, his eyes sparkling.
“You finished!” he mumbled under the surgical mask. He slipped off the mouth covering cloth, set his scalpel on a metal tray, and walked over to her. He took the base from her hands and twirled the sculpture around. “It looks wonderful. We may have to use you in the future to do other clay reconstructions.”
She hadn’t known she’d done that fine of a job. “Thanks. Hunter’s on his way to pick me up. A reporter will interview Hunter and me at the sheriff’s department.”
“You less nervous this time around?”
“Much. Hunter will do most of the talking anyway. I’m just there to point out a few interesting characteristics that might help a relative identify her.”
Kerry glanced over at the table. “Is that the woman from the bay?”
“Yes. The bullet killed her.” He handed the skull back to her. “Here’s the sad part.”
Kerry stepped over to the table. While her stomach and nose could handle the decomposition, her heart ached at seeing the woman cut up.
John pulled apart the abdomen. “Look here.”
“She was pregnant?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Now the police would have to tell her relatives both the woman and her unborn child were dead. “Let’s hope we can identify her soon. The father of the child must be out of his mind with worry.”
“Or he did the deed.”
Kerry increased her hold on the base. “I have to go. The television crew won’t wait forever.”
“Good luck.”
“Do you mind?” With both hands clasping the #4 model, Kerry angled her head forward for John to open the autopsy door.
As she walked back to her lab, another door whipped opened and smashed into Kerry’s shoulder. She faltered. Her foot caught, causing her to stumble.
Someone behind her jerked her arm back to steady her causing her fingers to let go of the base.
“Steady,” a familiar voice said.
The clay model flew out of her hands. As Kerry opened her mouth to tell him to let go of her arm so she could catch the head, the damned thing landed with a thunk before she got the words out. “Noooo!”
On its base, the model teetered, then rolled over onto the side of the face.
Kerry spun around. “Look what you did!” She hadn’t meant to blame Steven for the accident. He hadn’t been the one to open the door, but he had pulled back on her arm.
“It’s my fault,” a young girl said, her mouth half open. “I just opened the door. I’m sorry.”
Kerry took a deep breath. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I can fix the damage.”
Heart pounding, she picked up her precious model and raced back to her lab. One cheek and part of the right lip had sagged. With her sculpting tool, she repaired the damage, then immediately placed the item in a safe cardboard box.
She needed to make sure the model was steady on the ride over. Hopefully, bubble wrap would do the trick. The last thing she needed was for Jane’s face to fall over again in the car and get smashed. Just in case, she brought a few tools to do damage control. Heat wasn’t kind to clay.
Hunter was waiting for her outside. Once again, she was struck by how handsome he looked in his midnight blue uniform.
“Hey,” he said.
His gaze held steady on her face. For a moment she thought the quick makeup job she’d done right before she left looked uneven. “Something wrong?”
He laughed. Actually laughed. The spurt of joy surprised her. “No.” He started the engine and left.
In relatively light traffic, they arrived twenty minutes later. “We need to hurry,” he said.
The same cameraman, Josh something, was in the conference room doing lighting checks. Liz Culbertson greeted Kerry like an old friend, helping to relax her.
Liz asked the same questions as before, and the interview lasted less than fifteen minutes. A second after the last answer, the two News Channel 8 people disappeared.
Hunter lifted the head from Kerry’s hands. “I think we better keep this in our evidence room. We can’t chance losing this one.”
She believed the head would be safe back at the morgue, but why take the unnecessary risk? “Fine.” Hunter had half turned around when she decided now would be as good a time to ask him the question that had been burning in her brain all day. “I’d like to watch the news at my grandfather’s house tonight. Do you mind?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not a good idea. Look what happened the last time we went live.”