“She was struck at least seven times. Each blow did maximum damage and was excruciating. Her kneecaps are broken, her elbow is shattered and the killing blows struck the right side of her head.”
Deke studied the mangled bloody mess that had been Lexis.
“We also found a thirty-eight.” Brad pointed to a tented yellow number that sat beside the handgun. “It hasn’t been fired so I think the first blow was to her hand. That would have sent shock waves up her arm and she’d have dropped the gun.”
“So when she came outside she was expecting trouble or was she the kind of gal who always figured trouble was around the corner?”
“Hard to say.”
“Do we have any idea what she was investigating?”
“Haven’t dug that far yet.”
Deke squatted by the body. Lexis had been in fair shape. She’d brought her gun with her, so how had the killer gotten the upper hand? “Were there any signs of struggle?”
“The medical examiner will know better.”
He studied the surrounding woods. “The killer would not have happened by out here. He would have come with a single purpose.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna have a look inside.” Deke rounded the side of the house and climbed the three steps to the rustic porch. Inside the smell of burned coffee hovered. He found Georgia standing next to a simple plank desk with a state-of-the-art laptop. On a side table there was a high-tech scanner as well as several cameras. They’d all have to be searched for images that might explain how Lexis Hanover had caught the eye of the killer.
Georgia glanced up, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Deke. Looks like your victim was a fairly successful PI.”
“I never crossed paths with her.”
“Neither did I. She must have been good at keeping a low profile.”
He glanced toward the desk and the bright magnifying glass. “Do you know what she was analyzing?”
She glanced toward the light. “I don’t. I’ve searched all around the room but there’s nothing.”
“Might have been what the killer was after.”
“The techs downtown can have a look at her computer and they might be able to figure it out.” She pointed to blood drops marked with tented yellow numbers. “But the killer was in here. Blood all around. Brad says the victim never fired a shot so I’m guessing we’ll find that blood belonged to the victim. There would have been blood spray judging by her injuries.”
Of course, she’d seen the body, but logic didn’t temper the sadness as he moved closer to the desk and noticed a ruler, a small magnifying glass and tracing paper. “She was authenticating handwriting?”
“Looks like it. It’s more common today with contracts and wills. When money is at stake, people fight.”
A smile quirked the edges of his mouth. “That gonna be in one of your songs?”
“As a matter of fact it might be. I’ve been working on new tunes.” Her eyes brightened. “And did I tell you I’m singing at KC’s party and it’s gonna be held at Rudy Creed’s?”
“Really?”
“KC set it up. Said he and Rudy go way back.”
“Didn’t know that.” KC had been a friend of his father’s, which had made it hard for Deke to warm up to the guy. He knew the basics about KC but little below the surface.
“Do you remember where Rudy’s is located?”
“I was just there the other day.”
A frown wrinkled her brow. “Why?”
“Linked to a case.”
“Thank God. I had visions of you, Alex, and Rick demanding a spot for me.”
“The thought had crossed our minds, but we’re too afraid of our baby sister’s temper to pull a stunt like this.”
She blew out a relieved sigh. “You bet your ass.”
Smiling, Deke glanced around the desk searching again for evidence that would connect Lexis to Dixie, Annie, Rachel, or Margaret. There were invoices yet to be mailed, a handful of checks attached to a deposit slip and several sets of maps of the Nashville area. He moved away from the desk toward the large fireplace, now dark and cold. Clustered together on the mantel was a collection of pictures. Lexis had a close-knit group of friends. His gaze skimmed the images and halted immediately on the third from the right. It featured Lexis, a man, and Rachel Wainwright. Deke picked up the picture, his gaze instantly drawn to Rachel’s face. She appeared younger. Her hair was slightly longer and she had a wide, happy grin. He’d seen her mad, angry, slightly amused but never out-and-out happy. Her beaming face and sparkling eyes drew him before jacking up his suspicion. How the hell did she know Lexis?
His gaze shifted to the man beside Rachel. He wore a prison jumpsuit and casually slung his arms around Rachel and Lexis’s shoulders. Thin, gaunt, and pale, he sported several tattoos on his forearms and shared Rachel’s square jaw. He was her brother.
“Georgia, have a look at this picture.” He turned to show it to her as she closed the gap between them.
“The attorney clocked on television the other night.”
“Rachel Wainwright.”
“Wasn’t she attacked last night? I’m sure I heard that in the shift report.”
“You did. Someone took a swing at her and hit her hard but didn’t break any bones. She’s lucky.” Damn. How the hell was Rachel tied into all this? “Any guess on the guy’s identity?”
“Definitely family. Can’t miss the genetic link between the two.”
“Like ours,” he joked as he tugged a lock of her blond hair.
“I got all the pretty genes.”
“No argument here. The Morgan boys landed on the short end of the stick in the looks department.”
She nodded her agreement. “This guy’s not too bad-looking. He’s what? Early thirties?”
“About.”
“So he’s her older brother.” She shook her head. “It looks like he’s leaning on these gals, as if he’s a little desperate and he needs them.”
Deke realized she was right. “You have a knack for body language.”
“All those years of singing in front of rough audiences. Good to watch the body language in case a patron is tempted to throw a beer bottle.”
“You’ve never had one tossed your way.”
“Always a first.” She tapped the picture. “So what does the curious Ms. Wainwright have in common with the victim?”
“That’s the first question I intend to ask.”
Deke arrived at Rachel’s building an hour later. By the time he’d crossed town and fought traffic he’d built up a full head of steam. She had a habit of keeping secrets and he figured this one was gonna be a whopper.
He parked and rang her bell. He glanced up into the security camera and glared as if to say “let me in” and waited for the buzz of the lock as it opened. He found Rachel rising from her desk.
She wasn’t dressed in her customary suit and white starched shirt but a loose pair of coveralls and a T-shirt. In these clothes she moved with more ease as if she’d shed a skin that was too tight. She wasn’t wearing a sling but there was no missing the black-purple bruise darkening her right arm.
“Detective. Come for your shirt? I have it. Cleaned and ready to go.”
“Not here for the shirt.” He jabbed his finger at the camera. “That tape?”
“I wish.”