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Her sunglasses catching the sun, Vargas leaned against the brick building, her arms folded. She looked relaxed, but he smelled the tension sizzling around her.
“Taking a nap?” he asked.
“Waiting for your sluggish self. I’ve spoken to the apartment manager, and he’s ready to show us the apartment.”
“What about a search warrant?”
“I have the go-ahead from a judge to ascertain the status of Elena Hayes. If we see any evidence of trouble, we’ll back out and request the warrant.”
Inside the building they took the elevator to the fifth floor and rounded a long corner where a skinny guy with a pockmarked face stood. He wore tattered jeans, a black T-shirt, and boots. In his hand was a ring of keys.
Sharp showed him his badge and introduced himself.
“I’m Max Quentin. Haven’t seen Ms. Hayes in a couple of days,” he said as he searched the ring of keys. “She was headed out for a vacation.”
“Is it unusual for you not to see her for days at a time?”
“Yes. She had an obsession for schedules. Gym, work, and then out with her friends at night. She’s always coming and going.”
“Do you pay this close attention to all your tenants?” Vargas asked.
“No. Just the hot ones.” The manager grinned as he found the right key and turned the lock. The door opened to an airy one-bedroom apartment with a large picture window overlooking the train tracks and the river. Her place was simply decorated with an overstuffed couch and a white shag area rug. A glass coffee table held a television remote and a neat stack of magazines.
Vargas rattled keys in her hands. “I confirmed with Elena’s colleague, Miranda, who said Elena had a huge presentation at work in two weeks. Part of her getting away was to have a quiet place to prepare.”
“Where did she go?”
“Miranda thought she may have gone to her parents’ lake house so no one from work would drop in on her.”
Sharp nodded to a laptop on the kitchen counter. “Think she would have needed that if she were going to work on her vacation?”
“Absolutely,” Vargas said. “Miranda said she was dedicated and had her eye on a promotion.”
“Has anyone checked with the hospitals?” Sharp asked.
Vargas flipped open a small notebook. “I called the local ones, and no one has heard of Elena Hayes or admitted anyone matching her description.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
More notebook pages flipped. “She had one a couple of years ago. He left her and married someone else. She’s been single since. Really into fitness. Loves yoga. Was talking last week about what she’d do if she closed this upcoming deal.”
The living area connected to a galley kitchen, which was clean and tidy. A small hallway led to a bedroom. The shades were drawn up, bathing the room in sunlight. Lying in the center of a neatly made king-size bed was a doll.
“Damn,” Vargas muttered behind Sharp.
“We need to get a search warrant and seal this apartment,” he said.
Sharp moved closer to the bed, tugging on latex gloves. The doll had dark hair and wide bright-blue eyes and wore a red dress. He wasn’t an expert, but he could see the doll’s face was shaped exactly like the one given to Diane. The detailed painting around the eyes and the lips was perfect.
Sharp took a couple of snapshots of the doll before he and Vargas walked out of the apartment. The manager locked the door.
Sharp called for a uniform to stand guard in front of the door until the warrant and forensic team arrived. Only when a uniformed officer had secured the room did the two detectives take the elevator to the first floor.
When they were alone, he said, “We have at least an hour before we can get back in there, and I have a possible crime scene just a couple of blocks from here. Walk with me, and let’s take a look at an alley a block away.”
“Man, I got a full caseload. I don’t have time for strolls.”
“Humor me, Vargas,” he said. He moved to his car and from the trunk collected a flashlight.
“It’s the middle of the day,” Vargas said.
He clicked it on, confirmed it worked, and turned it off. “Stick with me on this.”
Vargas matched Sharp’s quick pace as the two traveled the brick sidewalk. He found the alley Jimmy had described and paused at the entrance. The narrow lane sandwiched between two old brick buildings was empty except for a dumpster at the dead end. One way in. One way out. The perfect death trap.
“Heard about Terrance Dillon, the kid stabbed and dumped north of the city?” Sharp asked.
“I did. Word is he was a good kid with no record. What does this alley have to do with him?”
Sharp reached in his pocket and pulled out latex gloves. “According to Terrance’s father, the kid came to this alley to make a delivery.”
She arched a brow as she also fished out gloves. “You mean drugs?”
“I do.”
“Drug deals go bad all the time,” Vargas challenged.
“According to the kid’s father, the drug in question might have been propofol stolen from a doctor’s office.”
“The kid’s father set up the deal?”
“He did.”
“Keep it in the family. Nice.”
“Jimmy said the drugs were enough to keep a person out for weeks.”
Her frown deepening, she shifted her gaze to the alley. “A month. That’s about the amount of time Diane Richardson’s killer needed to keep her immobilized.”
Sharp clicked on his light, which cast an infrared beam. Hunters used this light to track the blood trail of shot game. He was hunting for human blood. “I asked Dr. McGowan to test the foreign DNA found on Richardson’s and Dillon’s bodies.”
“You think they could be a match?”
“Right now, I wouldn’t bet against it.”
Sharp slowly moved into the alley, inspecting the worn cobblestones. At first, he saw only the gray. “If this deal occurred last Sunday, then the drugs wouldn’t have been for Diane. The work on her was already done at that point.”
“You think this guy is planning to take someone else? Maybe someone like Elena?”
“I’d like to be wrong.” If Elena was in danger, that meant Tessa could be as well. Sharp kept his gaze on the cobblestones. “There was no blood at the spot where we found the kid’s body. His stab wound did maximum damage, and Kincaid thinks he bled out quickly.”
“So wherever he died, he bled.”
“Yes.”
