“Do you know what case she was working on with Vargas?” Novak asked.
“I asked her. She was too afraid to tell me. Said it was the kind of information that could get her killed.”
The three spent the next half hour discussing Tamara. Mrs. Smith wanted to talk about the girl she’d been before she left home. She wanted to share the hopes and dreams their parents had had for them both.
When the check came, Novak intercepted it before Julia could and paid the tab.
Julia cleared her throat. “Tamara’s autopsy report said she had a baby about eight months before she died.”
A ghost of a smile warmed Mrs. Smith’s round face. “Alicia. She’s twenty-six. The county called and told me she had been born, and I went straight to the hospital. The baby was there, but Tamara was gone. So I wrapped her up and took her home. Raised her as my own. She’s getting her master’s in nursing at VCU. Smart girl.”
“So you know who the baby’s father was?”
“Tamara never told. I figured she didn’t know.”
Julia thanked Mrs. Smith, and they walked her back to her car.
Novak waited until she drove off before he started his car.
“Your father knew Tamara, Rene, Rita, and maybe Vicky. He and Ken did a good job of hiding that in the homicide files.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, fearing what else she might find out about her father if she kept digging. “That wasn’t lost on me.”
As they hit Broad Street, his phone rang. “Novak.” While he was listening, the lines in his face deepened.
When he hung up, his gaze took on an untamed edge that surprised her. The call wasn’t good.
“What’s happened?”
Novak jammed the phone in his breast pocket as he hit the lights, which flashed through the car’s grill. He punched the accelerator, raced toward the intersection, and did a sharp U-turn. “The body of a young woman was found in the Manchester district.”
She’d heard rumblings that Novak could be a hard-ass. The night they’d met, he’d received some kind of award at the dinner. The people at her table talked about the case Novak had broken that no one else could. But she’d been so wrapped up in her own issues, she couldn’t remember what it was for. “If you can’t drop me off anywhere, I’ll grab a cab.”
Novak shook his head. “The victim was bound multiple times and strung up from the beams of an old warehouse.”
His steady, deep voice triggered an eerie stillness. She conjured a horrific image of the victim. “Oh Christ, he’s back.”
“Or a copycat.” He glanced at her, his expression grim. “Either way, it’s bad for everyone.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wednesday, November 1, 4:00 p.m.
A ring of flashing cop cars greeted them when they arrived at the warehouse just across the James River from Shockoe Bottom. The sun hung low on the horizon and spattered the sky with bright oranges and reds.
Julia pulled back her hair and secured it into a tight ponytail before she and Novak approached the uniformed officer with their badges.
“Detective Novak. I’m with Richmond homicide.” He nodded his head toward Julia. “Agent Vargas, Virginia State Police.”
The uniformed officer nodded and raised the yellow tape for them both. They ducked under and moved across the rutted parking lot until they reached the entrance to the warehouse, now being prepped with floodlights and a generator that would be needed shortly.
Inside, lights illuminated the body of a woman whose face was hooded. She hung from ropes hooked to beams. Her arms were each tied with a rope, and her ankles fastened by two more bindings. A final rope wound tight around her neck.
Julia’s chest constricted as she struggled to keep her reaction in check. Absently she reached in her pocket for gloves, but found she didn’t have a set.
Without missing a beat, Novak handed her a pair as he worked his large hands into his own.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem,” he said.
She appreciated the gesture. “Who found her?” she asked a uniformed cop.
The cop was older, with gray hair and a sturdy build, but seeing Novak, he stood straighter. “A few college kids. They were looking to rent the space for a party. As soon as they opened the front door, they spotted the spectacle and obviously the odor.”
A sigh shuddered through Novak. “Where are the kids?”
“A squad car took them back to the station. Detective Latimer is talking to them. They’re pretty shaken up.”
“Who’s working the forensic end of this?” Novak asked.
“Natasha Warner.”
“Good.” Novak’s jaw tensed as he looked past the officer to the suspended body.
“The brass wants you to take point, Detective Novak,” the officer said. “This is going to be a media shitstorm.”
“Yes, it is,” Novak said.
Julia stared up at the woman, her hooded face tilted to the side, her limbs dangling from ropes like a marionette’s. A surge of fury rushed through her body, stinging her nerve endings as she imagined the woman’s last panicked moments of life. The blink of a camera’s flash drew her attention to Natasha Warner, who was snapping pictures. “How long do you think she’s been there?”
“No more than twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” Natasha said.
Julia moved away from Novak and Natasha, her full attention on the victim. The thick scent of death infiltrated stagnant, dusty air and filled all her senses. Experience reminded her the human nose would soon block out the odorous scents if she didn’t fight. Her stomach tumbled. A cold settled deep in her marrow. Easier said than done.
Jesus.
“Why’s her face covered?” Novak asked more to himself, his deep voice calm and controlled.
She’d not heard him approach and couldn’t stop herself from flinching. She cleared her throat. “That’s a change from before.”
He stood behind her, so close she imagined the heat of his body warming her chilled bones. “Copycat or original?”
“Did my investigation trigger this?” Julia folded her arms over her chest, fearful that Novak would confirm her worries. “Is she dead because of me?”
For several beats, he was silent. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “No, you didn’t make this sick bastard do anything.”
“I kicked a hornet’s nest.”
“The hornets were always there, and if you hadn’t gotten his attention, someone else would have. Killers like this don’t need an excuse.”
She stared at the victim’s hands and feet, darkened by the blood that had settled after her heart stopped beating.
With her gaze locked on the body, Julia took solace knowing Novak didn’t bend to bravado. No drama. And she needed that right now as she shouldered the weight of this woman’s death.
Natasha approached the two officers. “I’ve photographed the scene, sketched it, and had the uniforms search the area. Next step will be to cut her down.” The tech studied Julia’s badge. “Is the state taking over jurisdiction?”
“No,” Novak said. “Agent Vargas is consulting. Take the body down now.”