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Sandman was surprised to see such an attractive young woman in front of the house. The pictures that decorated the fireplace mantel inside the mother’s home were old pictures of a young girl from four years ago.
This woman before him was a knockout, with a perfect body and long, wavy brown hair. Her eyes were magnificent, nearly a hazel-green color that drew him right to her. He thought she was stunning as he introduced himself and Jim.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you but I have a feeling I’m not going to like this,” Grace said then walked up the stairs. She brushed right by him and kissed her mom on the cheek.
“Mom, are you okay? What’s going on? No one seems to be willing to tell me anything. It’s making me very nervous.” Sandman continued watching her.
“Miss Thompson, it seems that some information and evidence has come to our attention during one of our investigations,” Detective Jim Warner began to explain. “First of all, it seems that the man who was arrested and charged with your sister’s murder was not the one responsible. The evidence found in his home was planted there by the same person we feel is responsible for other killings we’ve been investigating.”
“Okay, so the investigators who were involved in Clara’s case made some mistakes and you’re here to ask us a few questions?” Grace let out a premature breath of relief. The poor woman hadn’t a clue what this could mean for her.
“No, ma’am. Unfortunately it’s more complicated than that. You see some evidence was found at the last crime scene. This one took place in Pennsylvania. A picture was found at the scene and that picture was of you. The woman who was found murdered was a model for the company you worked for in Europe.”
The detective spoke so quickly, Sandman wondered if she got the information correct.
Grace appeared confused.
“My picture? Who was the model?”
“Cheryl Perez. Were you two friendly enough for her to have your photograph at her place?” Detective Jim Warner asked.
She covered her face with her hands and attempted to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes.
She turned her back toward them.
Instantly, her brother Frank was at her side, putting his arms around his sister and directing questions at the detective.
“What the hell, man, you just tell my sister a friend of hers was murd
ered and that Grace’s picture was there and before she can recover from the news, you’re asking her other questions. Give her a minute, will you!”
Frank raised his voice then softly spoke to Grace.
Sandman’s friend, Detective Jim Warner, was caught off guard at her brother’s anger. He probably should have waited a moment before asking other questions but it seemed that patience and empathy were not his strong points when Jim was after a serial killer. They were all on edge and uncertain where this investigation was headed. Sandman figured he’d better try to calm the situation down a bit.
“I’m sorry, Miss Thompson. It’s just that we are trying to find a killer and—”
“Miss Thompson, we’re sorry for your loss and for bringing up bad memories about your sister,” Investigator Sandman Sandstone interrupted. “We were hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for us. You see there have been some other murders that we feel are connected. What we need to do is go over some of the other cases. Maybe there’s a clue or some evidence that wasn’t picked up the first time around. They’ll be short and direct questions, ma’am, and we would really appreciate your cooperation. Your brothers are more than welcome to be present during the questioning.” He stood in front of Frank, towering over her brother and appearing dominant. Grace seemed to notice that as well.
Grace was looking up now, trying to catch her breath and gather her thoughts as she held his gaze. Her eyes were stunning, but the fact that they were welled up with tears bothered him.
“It’s all right, Frank. Investigator Sandstone, Cheryl would have my picture at her place. We had become friends during the photo shoots over the past year and had exchanged pictures for the scrapbooks we kept. I can’t believe she’s dead. Murdered.” She corrected herself then took a tissue her brother Frank offered. She used it to blot the tears from her eyes.
Sandman took the seat next to her.
“What can you tell me about her? Do you know whom she hung out with, any friends, boyfriends, or perhaps anyone who may have been bothering her?”
“She never mentioned anyone and she didn’t have a boyfriend that I know of, Investigator Sandstone.”
“Please call me Sandman. It’s what everyone calls me,” he replied as he held her gaze.
“Are you sure about that?” He challenged her knowledge of Cheryl’s personal life.
“Like I said, Sandman, I can only tell you what she told me. She never mentioned a boyfriend.”
* * * *
Grace had to admit that even the man’s nickname was mysterious and sexy. Sandman, as he liked to be called, had incredibly dark blue eyes that gave him an appearance of seriousness and intrigue. He was experienced in all aspects of the word. She just knew it.
