But after being on the job for ten years, some things were just pure instinct.
Trent was a killer. A psychopath who got off on hurting women. If Trent’s body really was buried in those woods, then the women in Lillian would be one hell of a lot safer, and their sleep would be easier.
“Detective!”
A female uniform waved him over. Kristen Langley was still pretty fresh to the force, but she was a fast learner, and she knew how to keep a scene safe.
“What have we got?” he asked as his gaze swept the area. That house. He’d been there before. Been to tell Katherine LaShaun the news about her daughter. He’d seen the boys, peeking from behind the stairs.
Sometimes, the job really sucked.
“The dogs found something…” Excitement had her voice cracking. “Come on, we’re pretty sure it’s—”
Ben ran past her. He could hear voices rising in the distance. The rest of the team. He caught the thud of a shovel. Dammit, they’d better be careful with his scene.
He twisted, avoiding the thick brush as best he could, then he broke into the area with his group. Stumbling to a halt, he eyed the large hole his men had sectioned off. Not too deep. Not deep at all, really. The spotlights lit up the area, and in the black dirt, he saw the faded blue fabric.
A shirt. Ragged.
More of the thick dirt was carefully brushed aside and he glimpsed—
Bones.
“Think it’s Trent?” Kristen asked, that excitement still in her voice.
He glanced at her, mouth grim. “It’s him.” Tests would have to be done. Dental records checked. But he could see a long, thin necklace, one with intertwined snake heads, laying across the bones.
Trent had worn that piece of crap around his neck every time Ben had seen him.
“Careful, people!” Ben yelled. “I want every piece of evidence here! Tag it, bag it, and don’t miss anything!” This case was going to have a shitload of media scrutiny. There would be no room for mistakes on this one.
Buried behind his kids’ house. How freaking twisted.
And who’d done the bastard? Who’d finally managed to kill Trent?
Even he’d been tempted. Especially after he’d seen Sylvia’s broken body.
Ben rubbed his hand over his face. His eyes were gritty. “I want to talk to the family.” Had to be done. Better to just get it over with now.
Kristen nodded, her short red hair bobbing around her face. She looked barely eighteen, but Ben knew that image was deceptive—and one that Kristen used to her advantage on the streets. When you were expecting fluff, it was easy to get taken down by a bulldog.
Crickets chirped around them. The cadaver dogs barked as their handlers held them back.
When they approached the house, he saw Katherine walk onto her back porch. A worn robe covered her thin shoulders and she hugged herself. “You found him, didn’t you?”
He didn’t want to suspect her, but the questions in his mind wouldn’t stop. Had she known about the kill? Been in on it?
Katherine LaShaun. A strong woman. One who would do anything for her family.
Buried behind the house. In the woods that the boys probably played in every day.
Sick.
He walked onto the porch. He hesitated under the bright light. “We’ve found a body. Too early for identification yet.”
Kristen crept to his side, almost soundlessly. The lady knew how to move and she knew how to track killers. One day soon, she’d make a good detective.
Katherine nodded. “It’s him, then.” Certainty. A jagged breath. “My boys won’t have to worry anymore.”
Ben glanced around. The house seemed too quiet. Sure, the boys should have been sleeping—but no, they would have woken up with all the cops and dogs there. It was too loud for the kids to still be sleeping. “Katherine, where are the boys?”
Her gaze left the woods and came to rest on him. “At a friend’s house. They’re safe. They don’t know…won’t know…about this.” Her lips shook. “They play there— they won’t know. ”
She’d moved the boys before the cops arrived. How the hell had she known to do that?
“You knew we were coming, didn’t you, Mrs. LaShaun?” Kristen asked.
Katherine glanced her way. Slowly. “Don’t believe I know you, honey.”
Kristen slapped a smile on her face. The non-threatening one she wore so well. “Kristen Langley.” She offered a hand.
One that wasn’t taken.
Katherine rocked back on her heels. “All this time, I was afraid, and he was right here.” Her gaze skittered back to Ben’s.
“Do you know who killed him?”
Not yet. But, God willing, he would soon. “Who told you we were coming, Katherine?” The person who’d given her the tip could well be the killer.
Only the officers on his team knew about this body. The cops—and the killer.
Her lips, already thin, flattened even more. “I need you cops to be done by tomorrow afternoon. My boys will be comin’
back then.”
Kristen opened her mouth—
“You got a phone call, didn’t you?” he pressed, not about to be led off track. He wasn’t new to this game.
Kristen’s mouth snapped closed.
“We can subpoena phone records, you know. We’re going to find out, one way or another.”
She stumbled back. “You didn’t do a damn thing to help my girl! Not one damn thing! You let that bastard out and he killed her—he killed her!”
“We don’t know that, Mrs. LaShaun.” Yeah, right.
“Bullshit!”
Katherine had never been one to mince words. One of the things he liked about the woman. “I’m sorry about your daughter, Katherine. I did try to help her. Erin—” Don’t think about her now “and I did everything we could.” It just hadn’t been enough.
Her gaze fell. “Erin Jerome fought for my daughter even when Sylvia wouldn’t fight for herself.” Soft. Sadness passed over her face. She sucked in a sharp breath and her shoulders shoved back even as her chin came up with new determination. “Get your subpoena if you have to! Do it! But I’m not tellin’ you another thing!” Then she turned and stormed into the house, slamming the back door behind her.
Well, well. Katherine was hell-bent on protecting someone. From the look on her face, she thought that someone might have been involved in the killing.
Who? Who would Katherine protect? Only her boys. Just the boys.