the activity with a dour expression on his face. Several uniformed officers were erecting a tarpaulin over the body, so that it could be shielded from view while forensics worked and protected it from the elements. Laura caught just a glimpse of it before it was covered, then ducked her way over to Captain Mills to get the scoop.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Two stab wounds to the chest, both done overhand and most likely from behind, is the initial report,” Mills said. He looked tired. Laura didn’t doubt that most days of work for him contained their fair share of stress, but this was an unusual case. Three deaths now with the exact same M.O. Even if stabbings were fairly common, the specificity of it left no doubt in Laura’s mind. That made this a serial killer, or at the very least a spree killer, given the close timing of the attacks. It would attract serious headlines, not just in Washington but around the country. Maybe even internationally if there were more. That meant Mills had just inherited a huge PR nightmare, and there was no end yet in sight.
“Who found her?” Laura asked – because, yes, the body she had glimpsed had been that of a woman. A woman in jogging gear, looking like she was out for a quick bit of exercise before bed.
“Her neighbor,” Mills said, turning to indicate a huddled figure sitting on the steps of the building next door. An officer was sitting beside him, and it looked from here like he was wrapped in a foil blanket. “He was just coming back from a walk to the store and found her. He was the last person to see her alive, too.”
Laura nodded her thanks and pointed the way ahead for Nate. She followed her partner as he approached the witness, lowering his tall frame to sit on the steps just below him and look up.
“Hello, sir,” he said, his tone respectful and quiet. Laura saw that the man he was talking to was elderly, white hair contrasting against dark skin. He focused on Nate, seeming to take in what he was saying easily enough. “My colleagues tell me that you were the last person to see our victim alive.”
“Gypsy,” the man rasped, his voice raw. “Her name is Gypsy.”
“What can you tell me about what happened to Gypsy?” Nate said. “What did you see?”
“I didn't see anything,” the man said. “We were just walking and talking. She was worried about work. I just left her at the corner over there, to go to the store, and she said she was coming right home. It was only ten minutes that I was gone for. I warned her about the killer, but I never thought...”
“What's your name, sir?” Nate asked.
“It's Jerry,” he said. “I didn't see anyone else in the area. I keep thinking about it. There wasn't anyone coming down the street, and the only person leaving the store was a woman. Her name is Martha, and I think she's older than me.”
“Alright, Jerry,” Nate said, making his tone even more gentle in response to the man's obvious distress. “Any information you can give us is really crucial. How long have you known Gypsy?”
“Oh, several years,” Jerry said. “She moved in here and we got to know each other immediately. She was such a good girl. Always came to look after me if I needed it. We used to walk and talk together all the time.”
He wiped a tear from his eye, and Nate reached out to pat his shoulder for a moment before continuing. “What can you tell me about Gypsy? Did she live alone?”
“Yes, she was alone,” Jerry said, sniffling. “She broke up with her last boyfriend a few months ago. I think his name was Joe, or something like that.”
“And what did Gypsy do for a living?” Nate asked. Laura glanced up at the building as he spoke. The homes here were small, but they weren’t apartments. As much as they might have moved out of the center of Seattle, these places still wouldn’t have been cheap. You had to have some degree of professional success to live here. Laura’s mind moved through the possibilities: former soap actress, child star, coach at one of the more prestigious academies…
“She was the manager of a bookstore in town,” Jerry said. “Otto’s Books.”
Nate blinked. He looked around at Laura, sharing a confused expression with her, before turning back to Jerry. “That was all she did for a living?”
“That’s it,” Jerry confirmed.
“No hobbies, side jobs, anything like that? Something she did as a volunteer?”
Jerry let out a laugh. “After the hours she worked at that place, poor girl had no time for a life. Gypsy worked. That’s it. I kept telling her to take some time out, but she… Oh…” Jerry shook his head, tears falling down his cheek again. “Oh, she was so determined. She told me she didn’t want to find love again because it was too painful. And now…”
“Okay, Jerry,” Nate said, soothingly. “Thank you for your help. That’s been really great. I want to ask you some more questions later, maybe, but for now you should get some rest. Do you have anyone coming to stay with you?”
Jerry wiped his face, the blanket rustling as he did so. “My wife is inside,” he said. “I told her not to come out. I couldn’t let her see that.”
Nate took a card out of his pocket. “If you think of anything that might be useful, please give me a call,” he said. “I’m Agent Nate Lavoie. Just call me Nate, alright, sir? Just call me whenever, don’t worry about the time.”
“Alright, son,” Jerry said, nodding feebly. As Nate got up and stepped back, the officer beside him helped him to his feet, leading him away.
Laura stood by Nate to watch him go inside, then they both turned. If Nate’s heart was as heavy as hers, she wouldn’t be surprised. Watching a man suffer like that, an elderly man who didn’t need to see this kind of thing at this point in his life – it didn’t get easier just because they had been on the job for years.
“Not an acting coach,” Laura said, knowing that Nate was going to feel as mystified about that as she was.
“Maybe he got it wrong,” Nate suggested.
Laura couldn’t help but frown. “It sounds like he knew her pretty well.”