“Knox stayed close to Roger Benson, who lost a child while Knox was chief of police. Maybe he felt a bond with Roger because each lost a child.”
“Maybe. Or maybe Knox wanted to keep a close eye on the investigation.” Andrews opened the door to his lab and moved to his computer. “Odd that Kara, Diane, and now Knox died of overdoses. Maybe whoever he was protecting turned on him.” He pressed several buttons, and the picture of Kara, Diane, Elena, and Tessa appeared on the large screen.
Andrews enlarged the image with the swipe of his finger. “As I said, Knox mentioned an arson case the day your sister was found. Said it was a confusing, chaotic day. In fact, I found evidence from that arson case in your sister’s file.”
“Papers get misfiled.”
“I believe there’s more to it than misfiling. I’d like you to get a copy of that arson case file. I don’t think the papers were misfiled but put there intentionally. A trail of bread crumbs, if you like.”
“Leading to?”
“Evidence. I want to see if evidence from your sister’s case is in the arson file.”
“Interesting.”
“I believe Knox had a key piece of evidence and for whatever reason couldn’t destroy it, so he hid it.” He handed Sharp a printout listing six case files. “I’d also like to see these case files. They are arson cases that have occurred in your hometown area in the last twenty years.”
“Why these?”
“I suspect our killer blows off steam lighting fires.”
Sharp reached for his phone and within minutes located a contact in the town’s police department. “I need these files pulled now.” He rattled off the date Kara was found as well as the six other case files. “Look up the date. There will be an arson case that day. Call me back when you have the files, and I’ll send a trooper to get them today.” When the clerk on the other end hesitated and made an excuse about workloads, Sharp gripped his phone tighter. His tone was tight, ripe with anger. “I’m sending someone by today. Be ready.” After a rushed promise to find the records, the clerk hung up. He texted Riley and informed her of the situation. She agreed to pick up and deliver the files to Andrews.
Sharp glanced at the image on the big screen. “Can you search for any other cases similar to Kara and Diane’s and perhaps Elena’s? If we are dealing with the same killer, I’d bet money he’s been honing his skills on other women.”
“Skilled tattooing takes practice,” Andrews said. “Who knows, he might also have set a few fires around the times of other murders.”
“Exactly.”
“I’d also like you to consider exhumation.”
“What?” Sharp said.
“I’ve been reading your updates on the Diane Richardson case. You said there was a doll found in the trash behind her apartment, and there was also a doll left at Elena Hayes’s home.”
“Right.”
“There was no evidence of a doll found at Kara’s crime scene.”
Tension banded up Sharp’s back. “Correct.”
“I believe this killer has evolved considerably in the last dozen years. But as much as his skills have improved, I believe leaving the doll is a kind of signature for him that might have begun with your sister.”
“You think he put something in her casket?”
“We won’t know unless we exhume her body.”
“Jesus, Andrews.”
Andrews didn’t speak.
“Let me think about it.”
The modest funeral home was located on the south side of town a block from the railroad tracks and six blocks from Terrance Dillon’s home. Sharp parked in the back of the lot and got out of his car.
Inside the funeral home, gentle music played over hidden speakers, which he supposed was intended to soothe the grieving. In an unseen room, wheels squeaked, and he imagined a casket being positioned. He thought about his sister. His mother. Roger.
Sharp shrugged his shoulders and tugged at the corners of his cuffs, already wishing he could leave this place. He hated the idea of digging up Kara’s coffin, but he couldn’t ignore Andrews’s logic. If she held the key to catching this killer in her coffin, he’d start proceedings today.
He followed the carpeted hallway to the placard marked “Office.” He knocked and found Norman DeLuca in a dark suit standing behind the receptionist desk, arranging name cards.
DeLuca looked up. “Agent Sharp. Good to see you. Still working on the Terrance Dillon case?”
“I’m looking into another case.”
“How may I help you, Agent Sharp?”
He fished around for the right words. “I came about my sister, Kara.”
“Kara Benson? She’s not been with us for a long time.”
Not with us. It sounded too polite. “I want to know about the final moments before her casket was sealed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who was there? Did anyone put any item in the casket with her?” He thought about the dolls left at Diane’s and Elena’s homes.
“It’s been twelve years. I would have to check our files for any items inventoried.”
“Can you do that now?”
DeLuca glanced at his watch. “I’ve new clients arriving soon, but I think I can do this.” He motioned Sharp toward a computer, and he pressed a few keys before the name Benson came on the screen. “Her final clothing selection was a white lace dress. She wore a heart-shaped necklace and a bracelet with her name on it.”
Both pieces were favorites of hers. He’d given Kara both the necklace and bracelet. “Anything else in the casket?”
“There was a doll.”
“A doll?”
“Yes. I personally placed it beside her just before her funeral.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“After your parents left, a young girl came into the viewing room and gave it to me. She said your mother wanted it left with your sister. The doll apparently had been Kara’s.”
No. That wasn’t right. His sister wouldn’t have wanted anything like that. “Who was the girl?”
“A friend of the family, I suppose. I didn’t recognize her. I didn’t question the girl. I hope I didn’t offend your family,” Mr. DeLuca said.
It was the killer’s signature. He was likely at the funeral. “Do you have a list of the people who signed the guest book?”
“I have a scan of it in our computer files. Would you like a printout?”
“Yes.”
More keys tapped. The printer hummed.
DeLuca inspected the pages, then handed them to Sharp.
“Never pleasant when a young one leaves us. We try to help, but it’s never easy.”
“Thank you.”
“You didn’t say why the doll mattered.”
Because the fucking killer wanted it there. “I’m not sure it really does. Just struck me as odd.”
“Why?”
“Kara wasn’t a fan of dolls.”
“Maybe she was, and you didn’t know it.”
Sharp meticulously tucked the pages in his notebook. “You might be right. Thank you again, Mr. DeLuca.”
“Of course. Return any time you have a question.”
On the way out, he glanced at the upcoming services and caught the name Terrance Raymond Dillon. “The Dillon funeral is going to be held here?”