Cavanaugh Encounter. Marie Ferrarella
work with her and help her find her cousin’s killer. After that, they never had to see each other again.
As a matter of fact, she preferred it that way.
The yellow crime tape was still fastened across the door of the apartment where Kristin’s body had been found. Frankie silently drew in a breath as she watched O’Bannon pull aside the tape that announced to the world at large that a crime had taken place here and that no headway had been made because the investigation was obviously still ongoing.
O’Bannon unlocked the door and pushed it open, then entered the apartment. White Hawk was right behind him, but to Frankie’s surprise, the tall detective stepped back and instead waved her in ahead of him.
“Ladies first,” White Hawk said.
A small hint of a smile fleetingly graced her lips as Frankie murmured, “Thank you,” just before walking into the apartment.
It felt as if she was moving in slow motion along the bottom of a lake filled with Jell-O. She’d been to her share of homicides when she’d worked as a detective in Los Angeles before transferring to Aurora, but everything seemed eerie and unreal to her within the apartment.
Doing her best to appear unaffected, Frankie slanted a glance toward the living room floor where she’d last seen her cousin lying facedown right in front of the entrance at the rear of the apartment.
Damn it, snap out of it and get a grip on yourself. You’re a detective working a case, not a cousin mourning the loss of the last of her family.
“Something wrong?” Luke asked her, his deep voice disrupting her thoughts.
Rousing herself, she shook off her mood and made eye contact with O’Bannon. She would have to watch herself around him.
“No, just reviewing the crime scene, that’s all,” she answered.
He’d been watching her face since they had walked in. Something was off, Luke thought. “Something look out of place to you?” Luke questioned.
Yes. Kris shouldn’t have been killed, here or anywhere else.
“No,” Frankie said out loud. “Everything is just the way I saw it when the EMTs arrived to try to revive Kristin.”
An alert look came into his eyes. “You said she was dead.”
“She was, but Amanda called 911 and requested an ambulance before I was sure that Kristin was already dead,” she told him. Why was he trying to trip her up? “The ME was called in right after that.”
“And who called for the CSI unit?” Luke asked.
Frankie couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being grilled, but she knew it was important to keep her cool, answering his questions. There was nothing to be gained by losing her temper and telling O’Bannon to back off. “I did,” she told him.
“And you remained here while they canvassed the apartment.” It was more of a statement on his part than a question.
“Yes.”
Luke nodded his head. All the while his eyes swept over the immediate area. “Very thorough of you.”
Despite everything, Frankie could feel her temper flaring. She struggled to keep it in check.
“It’s not my first rodeo, O’Bannon. You needn’t patronize me,” she told him.
“Sorry,” he told her, raising his hands. “I wasn’t aware that I was doing that.”
“Yes, you were.” Her eyes met his. If she was going to be tossed out, she might as well speak her mind and be dismissed for a reason. “I work in Major Crimes, not the neighborhood sandbox,” she told him. “I don’t deserve to be talked down to like some kind of wet-behind-the ears novice.”
She heard White Hawk laugh, something she assumed would further anger O’Bannon.
“She’s got a point, O’Bannon,” he told his partner when Luke shot him a reproving glance for laughing at the woman’s retort.
Rather than contest the words, or give them both a piece of his mind the way that Frankie expected, O’Bannon merely shrugged.
“Sorry,” he said to her. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Just trying to be thorough on my end.” He paused for a moment, then asked her, “Do you know which is the victim’s room?”
“The second one right off the bathroom. Your uncle’s unit has already gone over the entire apartment,” she pointed out again. Not to mention that she had, as well. Exactly what did he hope to find?
“I know,” Luke replied. “But it never hurts to have another set of eyes going over the apartment—or, in this case, a fourth set,” he said, recalling that his uncle usually took at least two other members of the unit with him to go over any crime scene he was investigating. Luke turned his attention toward his partner. “Why don’t you look around and see if you notice anything out of place. Anything that might help us with the case,” he emphasized.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked O’Bannon when he didn’t give her any instructions.
“The same,” he answered. “Unless you’d rather sit in the car,” he added. Seeing the insulted look Frankie shot him, he dug into his pocket and took out a set of rubber gloves. He held them out to her. “Here.”
“I have my own, thanks,” she replied, taking a set of clear plastic gloves from the inside pocket of her jacket.
Luke smiled. “Brownie points for the new kid on the block,” he said with approval. “Okay, get busy, people. We’ve still got another crime scene waiting for us after we deal with this one.”
“Another crime scene?” Frankie questioned.
“When you came in this morning, we’d just caught another murder. Body’s with the medical examiner,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your victim’s apartment was on our way so I decided to stop here first.”
This was staggering. “How many victims did you say that this guy has killed?” she asked.
“Seven,” Luke answered. “And you’re jumping to conclusions that the killer is a man.”
She looked at O’Bannon, puzzled. “Then the serial killer’s not a man?”
“Most likely it is. But what I’m saying is that, in this modern age, nothing’s a given anymore,” Luke informed her. “There was a time when no one believed that a woman could be capable of doing something so heinous as killing one person, much less enough people to qualify being regarded as a serial killer.
“But the times, they are a-changing and there have been a number of documented female serial killers. It doesn’t happen very often—but it does happen. So, bottom line, rule out no one because of their gender,” he advised. “Keep an open mind at all times.”
“Sorry, just a figure of speech,” Frankie told the lead detective.
Luke nodded, accepting her explanation. “I’ll consider this as part of your learning curve,” he replied. He began to head toward the victim’s bedroom only to realize that Frankie was going in the same direction. “Why don’t you take a look around your friend’s bedroom? Sorry,” he caught himself before she could correct him. “I mean your acquaintance’s bedroom. I got the victim’s bedroom,” he said pointedly. Turning to the other member of the team, he said, “White Hawk, you’ve got everything else.”
White Hawk sighed. “I figured as much,” the tall detective acknowledged.
“Then let’s get to it,” Luke instructed, walking into the victim’s bedroom.
It was small, compact and