Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

“Dad always thought her quirk for tight spaces went back to the day Annie was attacked. Annie’s sister found Georgia and immediately took her out of the crib and covered her face snugly with a blanket. When Dad arrived, Georgia was red faced and screaming. He took her away from the scene right away. She was only five days old, but kids absorb more than anyone can ever say. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to hear your mother’s screams and then have your aunt nearly suffocate you.”

“She ever talk about it?”

“Georgia never talks about anything. She keeps it all bottled up. More and more since that defense attorney dug into Annie’s case and it all hit the news two years ago. I’ve tried to talk to her but she brushes it off.”

Jake glanced toward the cave entrance and watched as Brad and another officer gently pulled the body bag out of the cave. “So we have a killer who has at least two and possibly three kills to his credit.”

“Yeah.” He spat out the word as if it were distasteful.

“Right. Well, it’s our turn to get a crack at this guy. We’ll start with the most recent victim. Fingerprints or dental records should tell us pretty quickly if she’s Elisa Spence.”

“Georgia said this victim was wearing an onyx college ring and a pink sweater.”

“That fits the description given by Elisa’s roommate. As soon as we have a fingerprint identification, we can hit the streets.”

“Roger that.” Rick rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Several other technicians from the medical examiner’s office lifted the bag onto a waiting lightweight stretcher used in rugged terrain.

Jake watched the opening of the cave, waiting for Georgia. When she appeared, her face was pale and her mouth a thin grim line.

Georgia slowly stood and pressed her hand into the base of her back, but a glance toward Jake dared him to make any wisecracks. “I’ll have a report in a minute.”

“No rush.”

Rick, however, was no longer able to hide his concern. He moved across the rocky terrain, his gait uneven and laid his hand on her shoulder. “You look like shit.”

She glowered but didn’t shove his hand away. “Love you, too, bro.”

“Get something to drink. Get off your feet.”

“I’m headed in that direction now.”

She moved out of the area marked by yellow crime scene tape and stripped off her black gloves. She tucked them in her pocket and pushed back a lock of hair with the back of her hand. Grabbing a bottle of water from a forensic cooler, she twisted off the top and drank liberally.

Jake and Rick followed, stopping feet from her.

“Might want to stay back. I reek. It’s going to take a few showers to get this smell off me and these clothes are headed to the incinerator.” She glanced at Jake and held open her arms. “Want a hug?”

He took a half step toward her. “That a dare?”

She dropped her arms. “You’re no fun. I thought you’d run from the smell.”

“Running’s not my style.”

She held his gaze a moment as if rooting for the real meaning and then closed her eyes and focused on drinking more water.

A breeze rustled through the trees catching the detectives downwind. Jake and Rick got a whiff of her scent.

“You weren’t kidding,” Rick said.

Georgia raised a brow. “That keen eye for detail . . . you should be a detective.”

Jake gave her time to finish her bottle and eat a handful of crackers. “See anything that the killer might have left behind?”

“I found three candles. They had melted into a puddle of wax.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “She was fully dressed, but do you think she was raped?”

“Yes.”

The cave was the killer’s special hiding place that no one had found in the last five years. How many times had the killer returned to this spot to gaze at the cave’s entrance? Had he been a friend or acquaintance of Elisa’s, or had she simply been his type, at the wrong place at the wrong time?

“We’ll start with Elisa Spence’s parents. Once we have an identification, we can easily move forward. Can you tell anything about the older body at this point?” Jake asked.

“No. It’s going to take hours to process the scene.”

“You need to eat,” Rick said.

“I’ll be lucky to stomach crackers at this point.”

“Just be sure to eat,” he said.

She glared at her brother. If it had been Jake asking the questions, she’d have tuned him out. “Understood.”

Jake and Rick left her standing by the cave entrance, watching as Brad prepared to enter the cave. At Jake’s car, he slid behind the wheel while Rick settled in the passenger seat. “Did you have Tracker when you searched five years ago?”

“Yeah, but he’s not a scent dog. Strictly apprehension.”

“Tracker would have liked these woods.”

“He misses the work. But his hip is now arthritic. He was curled up on the couch with Jenna when I got the call today and I like the idea of him looking out for her. Makes the long evenings away easier knowing he’s on the job, even if he can’t run as well.”

“I’m surprised he let you out of the house.” Seeing the dog in action was impressive. Once Rick reached for his badge and gun from the home safe, the dog tripped a switch and was all business.

“Jenna bribed him with a piece of steak left over from dinner.”

“That worked?”

“Not really. But I let Jenna believe it did.”

Tracker had not been thrilled about Rick’s marriage and the insertion of another person in his life. The fact that the canine was guarding Jenna showed signs of progress.

Rick shook his head. “Tracker and I were a mean lean team until I got married. She’s made us a little soft.”

“That a complaint?”

“No, not at all. He’s warming up to her charm and good cooking.”

Jake’s phone buzzed, signaling a text. He had called in to the missing person’s detective on the Spence case and requested a picture. “Picture of Elisa Spence.”

Jake compared the photo Georgia took to Elisa’s picture. Despite decomposition, it was apparently a match. “We need to talk to her parents.”

“You need a shower first.”

“Right.”

* * *

After a shower and change of clothes at headquarters, the detectives drove to Franklin, Tennessee, a suburb twenty miles west of Nashville. In a much older neighborhood, they found the small well-kept home located at the end of a gravel driveway.

The Spences’ one-story house had a half dozen windows all lit up as if everyone in the house was up and waiting for Elisa to come home. There wasn’t a leaf on the neatly raked lawn and all the flowerbeds had recently been filled with yellow pansies. They parked in the driveway and climbed the brick steps to a black lacquered front door.

Jake drew in a breath, straightened his tie, and rang the bell. Immediately, footsteps sounded in the hallway and the door opened to an older couple who looked to be in their mid-sixties.

“Mr. and Mrs. Spence?” Jake asked, as he held up his badge.

“Yes,” Mr. Spence said. He had thinning white hair and wore thick glasses that accented red-rimmed eyes. His cotton shirt was badly wrinkled and not tucked into his dark pants. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m Mrs. Spence,” the woman said. She had shoulder-length gray hair cut into a pageboy style and wore a simple black cotton dress. “Are you here about Elisa?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Detective Jake Bishop and this is my partner, Rick Morgan. We’re with the Nashville Police Department. May we come in?”

Both Spences stepped aside, their expressions deepening with each passing second.

“Did you find Elisa?” Mr. Spence asked.

“Is there somewhere we can sit?” Jake asked. Eight years ago he’d been visited by the Boston police making the death announcement

that his fiancée was hit by a drunk driver. The shock of the news had been a punch to the gut. After the initial stab of pain, next came confusion, disbelief, and then blinding anger. When he’d learned the driver was the youngest son of an Irish mob boss, Jake found the guy and beat the living shit out of him. He would have killed him if his brothers hadn’t restrained him.

“I don’t want to sit,” Mrs. Spence said. “Sitting won’t change a thing. Is our baby girl alive or dead?”