At first she’d been shocked and broken and then she’d found herself thrust into the limelight. Annie’s death had turned Margaret into the story’s heroine. Poor girl, she discovered her sister’s bloodied house and found her infant niece howling. Bless her heart.
For a time, Margaret had been center stage. She’d been the one reporters had hounded and clamored to see. She’d been the star. For a time.
And then time distanced the world from the murder leaving Annie and Margaret forgotten.
She dried her hands on her skirt and turned the page of the scrapbook, smiling, imagining the warmth of the limelight that would beam on her soon. This time around, she’d see that no one forgot her. No one.
Deke parked on the corner, shut off the engine and sat in his car taking in the area where Dixie had been killed three nights ago. The yellow crime-scene tape strung by the techs was now gone. He’d wanted to secure the scene longer, but budget and manpower wouldn’t allow it.
Out of the car, he loosened his tie as he moved up the side street toward the stained stretch of sidewalk. Keys jangling in his hands, he studied the area trying to imagine the killer’s approach. Tall shrubs to the right could easily have hidden someone and in the dark the area would have been bathed in shadows. Crime in this area was low and there’d been no reported problems suggesting a predator stalked the area.
He moved up the sidewalk stopping short of the exact murder spot and squatted. Clean-up crews had removed most of the debris, but fading dark stains hinted to the blood that had stained the concrete.
The blood had drawn him back to the scene. There’d been so much. The splatter would have sprayed the killer and his clothes. In daylight, he’d not have gone far unnoticed but the darkness would have given him enough time to get away.
The blood. Dixie’s mangled face.
Both would join the ghosts of the other atrocities he’d seen on the job and haunt him for the rest of his life.
The blood.
It characterized Dixie’s death but also Annie Rivers Dawson’s as well. The dominant image in Dawson’s crime scene photos had been the blood painting the floor and walls.
There were similarities between Dixie and Annie. Both singers. Blond. Beautiful. It was conceivable that the same person could have killed them but a search of the last thirty years had revealed no other crimes that fit this precise victim profile.
A killer could lay dormant for thirty years. It had happened before. But what would have been the trigger this time? Rachel had been publicizing her vigil for a good week. Had her flyer triggered the killer? Or had the killer never heard of Annie and simply been angry or jealous? The latter was the likely scenario.
Headlights shone behind Deke’s vehicle. He rose and turned in time to see a female officer get out of an SUV and open the back door to her vehicle. She unclipped a leash from her waist and reached in and clicked it onto the collar of a hound dog.
A cap covered the officer’s blond hair twisted and pinned into a tight bun. She stood about five eight, had a trim, lean body and moved with confidence as her hound dropped his nose to the ground and sniffed. Fresh-faced, her clear green eyes surveyed the scene before meeting Deke’s gaze. “Detective Morgan?”
Deke extended his hand. “Officer Phillips?”
“Yes, sir. And this is my canine Bo. I hear from your brother you’d like us to follow a trail?”
Police canines were a specialized unit. Whereas Rick’s dog had been trained in protection and apprehension techniques, others were trained to sniff drugs, explosives, or cadavers. Rick had told Deke to call Jessica Phillips. She and her dog Bo were two of the best trackers in central Tennessee.
“That’s right. A blood trail.”
“Do you know where the trail begins?”
“Ten feet down the sidewalk. Rain the night of the murder washed almost all of it away.”
“Let’s give it a try.” She rubbed Bo on the head and then guided him to the spot. Bo instantly dropped his nose to the ground and began sniffing. Seconds passed as Bo sniffed the entire area and then cut right toward the woods.
Officer Phillips followed and soon the two threaded into the stand of trees toward the park. Deke waited until they were several feet ahead before he followed. He stepped over brush, cursed briars grabbing his clothing as Phillips and her hound moved as if they’d been born to hike the woods.
They punched through the thicket to the edges of the park close to a parking lot. Bo sniffed up to the curb of the parking lot, stopped his advance and barked.
As Deke moved closer, Officer Phillips commanded Bo to heel and from a side pants pocket pulled a treat. She fed it to Bo and praised him. “Whatever blood trail started on the other side of the woods, ends here.”
Deke surveyed the area. “Easy enough to park a car here and wait behind the trees.”
Officer Phillips searched the woods. “Killing doesn’t seem random, does it?”
He imagined the killer parking here, cutting through the strip of brush and waiting for Dixie. After killing her, it would be easy enough to retrace steps and leave without being noticed. “No, it does not.”
It was ten o’clock when Rachel finally found the time to put aside her work and go for a run. Lexis had said she might come by but Rachel had been too antsy to wait. She’d left a note on her front door and headed out.
Outside, the night was cool, but not so cold as to inhibit the itch to move and sweat. Long hours behind the desk were part of a lawyer’s life and though her mind accepted the sacrifice, her body did not.
She stretched her muscles and then satisfied they were warm enough, she began a light jog. It didn’t take long before she’d picked up her pace and now raced through the night. A sense of freedom washed over her.
She ran most days, going as far as ten miles. The exertion kept her muscles loose and her stress low.
What are you running from? Her brother’s tone had been light, joking, when he’d first asked the question years ago. She’d been surprised by it. Years had passed since that exchange and she still didn’t have an answer for Luke.
As she approached her building, she slowed her pace, letting the strain of her muscles ease. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she slowed to a walk, her hands on her hips. Her breathing still fast and her heart beating hard, she glanced up at the quarter moon savoring its crisp angles.
She reached in the pocket tucked inside her running pants and fished out her front door key and cell phone. As she approached the door she noticed the note she’d left for Lexis was gone. Deciding to call Lexis ASAP, she unlocked the door.
Be careful, Rachel!