THREE
Amanda turned her gaze away, needing a break from the heartrending scene in front of her. So young. This girl couldn’t have been more than twenty, just when life was becoming interesting. Her entire future had lain before her like a buffet of options… until it had been stolen. As if sensing the direness of the situation, everyone around Amanda had entered a reverent moment of silence for the girl. Eventually, Amanda blinked and swallowed the grief and regret that burned up her throat. Time to detach and be objective. Find justice for this victim.
“Were any of her personal belongings found, to provide us with an ID?” She directed the question to the CSIs.
Blair gestured to the body as if to say, Where would she be hiding it?
“Nothing yet, Detective,” CSI Donnelly said. She was the pleasant one—always had been. “We ran her prints, but no hit in the system.”
“Thanks, Isabelle.” Naked, shamed, and without a name. The trifecta could topple Amanda’s sanity if she allowed it, but she had a job to do, and she was going to do it. She cleared her throat and looked at Trent. He was watching her. “What do you make of it?” She pointed to the woman’s body. Trent was in his first year as a homicide detective, and they’d been partnered since January. He’d proven himself an excellent detective, so she’d let him start the theorizing.
Trent took a deep breath, rubbed his brow with the back of his arm, his pen in one hand, his notepad in the other. “I’m guessing you’re looking for more than, ‘It’s not pretty.’”
“Yeah, more would be good.” Like her, he was probably busy trying to process everything and make sense of it. She already had a bunch of questions and possibilities running through her mind, but there was one at the forefront. What were they dealing with here—an isolated incident, or evidence of something far worse? The precision, the obvious planning, the lack of fear on the part of the killer… The black orchid. It was left like a signature or a calling card—something that serial killers did. But she talked herself off that ledge. The flower could also be a sign of a remorse. The killer could have known their victim.
Amanda and Trent stepped back, giving the CSIs more room to work. She took in the area. Woods, a dirt path, the river, and a couple talking with a PWCPD officer farther down the trail. She’d guess they were the Swansons, the ones who’d made the discovery. The noise of the woman’s sobbing carried in the air, and the man’s arm was around her.
“So was she killed here or dumped?” Trent asked. “It’s looking rather clean at first glance, so I’d almost think she was dumped here.”
Amanda turned her attention to Trent. Though she’d originally leaned the other way—that the girl was killed here—Trent’s opinion seemed logical. But by killing her and cleaning her elsewhere, the killer would risk trace evidence transfer during transport. Right now, though, it was too early to know exactly what they were looking at. “Maybe once we know who she is, we’ll be able to figure out her last movements and what got her to this point. Such as where she was last seen. We might even be able to answer if she came here on her own and ran into her killer, or whether it was someone she knew who she had arranged to meet.” She spitballed a few hypotheticals.
“Sick to think someone in her life could have done this to her.” Trent flicked his pen toward the body. “Leaving a flower behind, combined with the way she was presented, makes me think her killer may have experienced remorse. That could mean it’s personal, just as the number of stab wounds could indicate the murder was ruled by emotion.”
“Just not a ‘heat of the moment’ murder. The killer was prepared. Orchids aren’t native around here as far as I know. And the way she’s been posed—cleaned and naked—has to be telling us something.”
“Which would be?”
“Not sure yet.” And that was the truth. While the girl’s nakedness was certainly sending a message, Amanda didn’t want to jump to a conclusion on what that might be. Had it been to shame her, exploit her, expose her? Had she been sexually assaulted? Amanda pinched her eyes shut briefly, not really wanting to go there unless necessary. She’d faced enough of that ugliness to last her for several lifetimes when she’d uncovered an active sex-trafficking ring in Prince William County earlier in the year. Those involved had since been arrested and the ring shut down, but as her friend Patty Glover from Sex Crimes reminded her, those types had a way of rising back up again.
“And if the killer is about sending messages, why? Are we looking for a serial killer?” Trent pierced her eyes with his. They’d faced one before—not long ago, in fact—and it was safe to say neither of them were ready to go down that path again.
The CSIs both stopped moving and looked at her, stalled on the stark reality of his question.
“Let’s not make that leap,” Amanda rushed out. “Not yet. Notice how the orchid wasn’t placed in her hand but was just set on top of her?” She flicked a finger toward the victim. The girl’s arms were at her sides, not clutched around the stem of the flower. “It’s almost like it was left there as a last-minute thought, which it couldn’t have been. The killer brought it, which indicates planning.”
“Uh, just thinking, though… don’t they have orchids in the floral sections of grocery stores sometimes?”
“Not usually black ones, and the leaves and flowers on this one look rather large. Thinking this is a stem from a more mature plant.” She didn’t have a green thumb, but she possessed some basic gardening knowledge.
“Well, I’ll take your word for it. I’m not a gardener or botanist.”
She held up a hand. “I can’t make that claim either.”
Trent put his pen in a back pocket of his pants and tucked his notepad under his arm. He pulled out his phone and started tapping away on it.
“What are you doing?”
There was no response as he carried on with whatever it was he was doing.
“Trent?” she prompted.
“Ah, just looking up the symbolism for black orchids. We were just talking about possible messages that the killer intended, right? The flower could very well be a part of that.”
“Oh.” Impressive. After all, it would make sense that particular flower had been chosen for a reason.
“Here we go,” Trent began. “There is actually a duality to the symbolism of this particular flower. It has negative connotations and positive ones.”
“Hit me with both.”
“Well, it can represent bad luck and death.”
“Suitable, considering the circumstances.”
“Also black magic.” He lifted his gaze from his phone, and she followed the direction of it to the body. “I’m not seeing anything that indicates she was killed in a ritualistic manner or in some way that smacks of the occult,” he added.
“Not on the surface anyway.” She’d learned from her time as a cop—which was her entire adult life—that first impressions weren’t always reliable.
“Fair enough.” He put his nose back to his screen. “On a positive note, it can symbolize strength, virility, sexual desires, and success.”
“Huh. Was our killer aware of all these associations with the black orchid? Did it factor into their choosing this flower to leave with her body? Is its presence, in fact, a message?”
Trent pocketed his phone. “So it begins.”
She angled her head. “Not following.”
“The questions. There are just so many of them.”