The Hangman (The Forgotten Files 3)

“Any thoughts on cause of death, Doc?” Novak asked.

She examined the face and reached around to the back of the head. “The base of her skull feels damaged. My guess is that the blow would have been enough to knock her out, and maybe kill her,” Dr. McGowan said. “Without flesh, there’s no way to determine if there were ligature marks on the neck.” She pushed up the brittle shirt. “Tox screens won’t be possible.”

“Let me know when you do the autopsy. I’d like to be there.”

“We’ll get her scheduled in the next day or two.”

“Thanks.”

Dr. McGowan zipped up the body bag and, with the help of her assistant, lifted it to the gurney before securing it.

The concrete floor where the body had lain was stained with the victim’s outline, but there were no large dark stains suggesting old pools of blood. If she’d been struck hard, it hadn’t been here. Where the body had been was a strip of rope about two feet long with the ends cut clean.

Novak watched as Natasha photographed and bagged the rope. “Dr. McGowan, be on the lookout for any marks on the bone that might suggest blunt force trauma or a knife wound.”

“Will do.”

He followed the pair to the stairs, and when Dr. McGowan moved to heft her end of the stretcher, he nudged her aside and took the weight. It was unwieldy more than heavy and slow going up the stairs. It took maneuvering to get the stretcher around the tight kitchen door corner. When they cleared it, he and the assistant carried the gurney out to the sidewalk.

“Thanks,” Dr. McGowan said. “I’ll never say no to a bit of brawn.”

“How well do you know Agent Vargas?”

Since Novak and Julia had started sleeping together, he had resisted the idea of learning more about Julia Vargas. He respected her privacy and halfheartedly believed she would eventually open up to him about herself. Now, asking about her didn’t feel as intrusive. She was part of his case, so it was business. And when it came to a case, all bets were off.

“She’s worked with my husband, Agent Sharp, on a couple of cases. She’s new to the criminal investigations unit. She’s dedicated. Did a couple of years’ worth of undercover work near Virginia Beach. We’ve been out for drinks once, so I can’t say I know her well.”

“Does she ever say much about herself?”

Dr. McGowan cocked her head. “If you want to ask her out, then do it.”

“It’s not like that. We found evidence connecting her to this body.”

“This body? She would have been a kid when the woman died.”

“I know.”

“What did you find?”

“A picture of her with her father in the victim’s wallet.”

Dr. McGowan brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Did you ask her?”

“I did. She didn’t recognize the woman’s name or face.” And if she had, he wasn’t sure she’d have told him. She guarded her thoughts closely. “I thought you might know about her family.”

“Like I said, we went out the one time, but she never mentioned her family.”

“What’s she like in general?”

“When it comes to a case, Julia’s a straight shooter. She’ll tell you what she thinks. If she says she didn’t know the victim’s name, she didn’t know.”

“I’m not questioning her integrity. Have you heard about her father?”

“She doesn’t talk about family, but I know he was a cop. I was at the awards dinner when she went to pick up his award.”

“I was there as well. She didn’t stay long.”

“Can’t be easy. Not everyone was happy that Jim Vargas received recognition.”

When Novak had been in Julia’s apartment, he’d glanced around for the award, but there’d been no sign of it.

Wouldn’t hurt to have a look at the Hangman’s files—and poke around in Jim Vargas’s life.

CHAPTER FOUR

Monday, October 30, 7:00 a.m.

When Novak pulled into his driveway, he was dead tired and could have used an hour or two of sleep. But the dark-blue four-door sedan parked in the driveway told him his daughter, Bella, was home. He reached for his phone and checked the texts. Nothing. She was supposed to let him know when she was on the road.

He ignored the fatigue and pushed through the front door. “Bella? Everything all right?”

“Came home last night to do laundry and study in a quiet place. Where were you?”

He loosened his tie and shrugged off his jacket. He moved to the small cabinet in the entryway, unclipped his gun, and locked it in one of the drawers as he’d done since she was a baby. “Crime scene. Why didn’t you text me and let me know you were coming?”

He found her sitting at the counter, a cup of coffee cradled in her hand. She’d pulled up her hair in a sloppy ponytail, and her eyes were still puffy with sleep. “I don’t know. Guess I wanted to surprise you.”

“I would have told you to stay at school.”

“Is it a crime to visit my father?”

“No.”

She grinned, sensing she’d already won this round. “So, how did it go last night? What’s the case?”

Novak opened the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of eggs. This was her second year away at school, but he still bought groceries in case she showed. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. “A woman. Looks like she’s been dead about twenty-five years.”

“How do you know she’s been dead that long?”

“Right now it’s based on receipts in her purse and the state of her body.” These moments with Bella were now few and far between, and he knew, as she got older, he’d see less of her. He was sorry he’d not been here last night when she’d arrived, but he wasn’t sorry he’d been with Julia.

Bella had never shied away from case details. “How’d the victim die?”

He fished a bowl from the cabinet and cracked a few eggs while the pan heated. He whipped them up and poured them into the pan. “I’ll soon have a date with the medical examiner to find out.”

She sipped her coffee. “I wish I could come. Maybe I could drive back after classes on Friday and discuss the case like you did with Grandpa?”

He was proud of his girl. But he didn’t want this life for her. “Stay at school. Enjoy the weekend. Besides, I’m not crazy about you driving back and forth on the busy roads.” He pushed the eggs around until they were cooked, then served up most on a plate for her.

Bella accepted a fork and jabbed it into the eggs. “Who cares about weekend parties when there’s such an interesting case?”

He poured himself a cup of coffee. He liked it when they could have breakfast. “Be a kid while you can.”

She rolled her eyes. “Because by twenty-three you and Mom were married and I was on the way.”

“Exactly.” He wouldn’t have traded Bella for the parties or freedom, but parenthood was hard. It sure had been on his wife. He’d never figured out why his wife had snapped.

“I don’t need a college degree to be a uniformed officer.”

“You need a college degree. End of discussion.” His phone buzzed with a text. It was from Julia.

Let me know when Gallagher autopsy is scheduled. I’d like to attend.

A half smile tugged the edge of his lips as he typed back.

Will do.

“Is that a hot date?” she asked, watching him closely.

He shoved the phone in his back pocket. “It’s work.”

She pointed the end of her fork at him. “Your face looked like it could be a date.”

“It’s a date with an agent at the medical examiner’s office.”

“But she’s pretty, right?”

The kid was too sharp. “She is.”

Bella grinned. “Maybe you should ask her on a date. Have some fun. I’m out of the house. No more excuses.”

He ate the eggs on his plate. “How about we agree that you shouldn’t date until you’re thirty?”

“Right.

”

When they were finished, he cleaned the dishes while she grabbed the laundry she’d done last night. When her car was loaded, he shoved fifty bucks into her hand, kissed her on the cheek, and reminded her to stay under fifty-five miles per hour.

“I’m not a baby, Dad.”

“You’ll never convince me of that.”

After Bella drove off, Novak’s thoughts turned immediately to the Gallagher case. He showered, changed, and drove to the office.

Novak exited the elevators and made his way to his desk, located in the center of a busy room with phones ringing and people talking. He shrugged off his coat and settled it on his chair. He kept his desk organized, files stacked and pencils sharpened. The lone personal item was a picture of Bella, taken when she was two.

His desk butted against his partner’s. Detective Samuel Riggs had muscled shoulders and a broad chest that hinted at his years playing football for Virginia Tech. Riggs dressed well, and his quick smile always caught the ladies’ attention. He was one of the sharpest minds in the department. At forty-one, he and Novak were the same age, but Riggs had no wife or kids. Wasn’t ready to retire from the field, as he liked to say.

Novak sat, checking messages. The arson investigator on the case would be on-site this morning at nine. The cadaver dog handler could also walk the property. He checked his watch. He called the handler and arranged for a nine fifteen meeting.

Riggs rounded the corner, approaching his desk with a fresh cup of coffee from the café across the street. A pressed blue shirt and red tie set off mocha skin. He smelled of expensive aftershave. “I heard about the bones.”

“Too bad you missed it.”

“Dealing with a shooting. Lucky me.” He set his cup on his desk and tugged at starched cuffs secured with gold links before sitting. “Is it true about you hooking up with Jim Vargas’s daughter?”

Novak had told no one about Julia, but that didn’t mean word hadn’t leaked out. He slowly looked up from a stack of messages. “Hooking up isn’t the right phrase for it.”