He liked her men of the street phraseology.
“According to Phil, Tanner Nash wasn’t making this up.” No use discussing the pros or cons of the man’s story without more facts. He’d ask Phil to look into the case further. “We’re here.” Several cars were parked outside. “Looks like Betty Donello’s support group has arrived,” Hunter said.
“Good. Everyone needs people around who care, especially in a time of need.”
From her wistful tone, Kerry must be speaking from experience. For some reason, he wanted to know what drove her so hard to help others, what she dreamt about, where she saw herself in the years to come. Had her brother’s disappearance been the only catalyst for her need to give comfort, or had something else traumatic happened to her? He refused to analyze why she pushed his curiosity button to the max.
A portly gentleman in his late thirties with wispy blond hair answered the front door. Hunter flashed his badge. “Hunter Markum, Hillsborough Country sheriff’s department.”
“I’m Nancy’s brother, Colin. My mother’s in the living room. Come in.”
Nancy’s mom was sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands, sobbing.
“Mom, the police are here about Nancy.”
Betty Donello dabbed her eyes with a red handkerchief and looked up, her white hair drooped around her chin. A cane lay across the sofa, and a Bible rested on a chair across from her. An older woman sitting next to Betty Donello had an arm draped around the mom’s shoulder. A second lady sat across from her.
The taller of the two stood and helped the short, frail lady grab hold of her walker. The tall one looked over at Hunter, and then turned back to Nancy’s mom.
“Betty, we’ll wait in the kitchen.”
Once her friends disappeared, Betty Donello straightened her hair and shirt. “I want whoever did this to die. How can I help?” She sniffled and blew her nose. “Nancy’s horrible death came as such a shock. She was such a lovely girl and a wonderful daughter.”
If she’d been so wonderful, how had she ended up in a shelter and not with her mom? Nancy had been missing for two months. Didn’t her daughter’s disappearance make her think something might have happened to her before now? “I’m guessing you didn’t see your daughter often?”
“Not as much as I’d have liked. Nancy was busy working. She didn’t have much time for me.” Betty dabbed her eyes. “To be fair, I was at my sister’s in California since the end of May. She’d been ill.” The mom tapped her chest. “Heart.”
“My sympathies.” Questioning a grieving family member had to win the what-I-hate-most-about-the-job award. “From the autopsy, we found Nancy had had some plastic surgery performed. Can you tell us about it?”
Anguish and guilt skipped across her face. “After her husband hurt her, I finally convinced Nancy to leave him. She stayed here until she met Ron Whipley. Then she moved in with him. I didn’t like how she rushed into a new relationship, but she was thirty-three. I couldn’t stop her.”
Kerry touched Hunter’s hand and his pulse sped up.
“I’m Dr. Herlihy. I noticed Nancy had a scar behind her ear that appeared to be recent. Do you know what the surgery was for?”
Betty Donello pointed to the sofa and love seat. “Where are my manners? Please sit.”
He and Kerry sat next to each other, moving the Bible off to the side. “The surgery?” Hunter said.
“Oh, yes. Poor Nancy. She’d been in a bad fight with Ron over her long hours at work. He hit her pretty bad, then cut her with a knife near the side of her face—nearly killed her too. She came here, blood dripping from ear to chin.”
Hunter leaned forward and scribbled notes in his pad. “When was this?”
“Right before I went to see my sister.”
That would make her injury about the time of her death. “Did she go to the ER?”
“Yes, they patched her up, but the scar was bad. I suggested she see if that wonderful Dr. Dalton wouldn’t mind working on her face. He’d done her surgery after that bastard Rick—that’s her ex-husband—broke her nose.”
Kerry straightened, her hands bunched at her side.
“And did he agree to help?” he asked.
“Yes. He was amazing. I could hardly tell she’d been hurt.”
“Do you think Ron had anything to do with her death?” Hunter made a note to arrest the bastard for assault. It didn’t matter if Nancy was now dead. She deserved to have someone pay.
Betty cried again and dabbed her nose with a tissue. “I don’t know what to think. Nancy insisted it was her fault that Ron cut her. She went back to the bastard.”
Hunter’s heart sank. Why did women continue to expose themselves to these monsters? “Did his temper improve?”
“I don’t know. I left for California. Nancy called me a few times, but she wouldn’t discuss Ron.”
Basically, the mom hadn’t had contact with the daughter in the last two months, so she wasn’t much help—other than providing the name of the good doctor. He placed his card on the coffee table. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”
22
Ever since Liz Culbertson of Channel 8 news had called Hunter and told him to watch the five o’clock news, Kerry hadn’t been able to concentrate on her clay model. The strips kept slipping.
At a few minutes to five, she paced the cabin’s small living room wondering what was so important on the news.
“Sit, Kerry. Please. You’re making me nervous.”
Hunter turned up the volume when the news anchor threw to Liz Culbertson out in the field. Kerry stood in front of the TV, her arms crossed over her chest.
About fifty people stood behind Norwood and his wife, some with lit candles, others with posters that read, “Find Janet’s killer.”
“Good evening. I’m Liz Culbertson, and I’m speaking to Chris Norwood and his wife Sharon. Two years ago their daughter disappeared. Recently the police found her remains along with the remains of three other women.”
Hunter leaned forward. “They’re in front of the sheriff’s station. Shit.”
“Can all those people protest in front like that?”
“It’s the right-of-way.”
“What does Mr. Norwood hope to accomplish by going public?”
Before Hunter could answer, Norwood spoke. “My daughter, Janet, was cruelly murdered. My wife and I want answers. Janet would have been thirty-one today. I’m offering a fifty-thousand dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of the killer.”
Norwood continued, but Kerry’s mind spun with questions after the big announcement of a reward.
“Thank you, Mr. Norwood. This is Liz Culbertson, Channel 8 News.” A picture of Janet appeared, along with a full screen graphic indicating how to get a hold of the family. The web address scrolled along the bottom.
Hunter flicked off the TV.
Kerry finally sat, leaned against the sofa and tried to grasp what had happened. “This publicity should be good for us, right? We might get someone calling about our other victims.”
“Maybe. Unfortunately, every time there’s a news report, our guy goes crazy.” His body tensed. “We’ll need to take extra precautions.”
Great. He better not suggest she move into a holding cell at the sheriff’s department for safekeeping. Knowing Hunter, she wouldn’t put it past him.
The next morning when Hunter drove them to the sheriff’s department instead of to Kerry’s lab, she thought her worst nightmare had come true. Thankfully, instead of taking her to a cell, he directed her to the room where the two of them had first met to discuss the case.
His hand rested on the knob of the closed door. “The meeting won’t take long. The homicide team needs to go over the details of the recent murders, and I thought it might help clarify things for you.”