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CHAPTER3
MITCH
He scrubbed his skin, over and over, but death had a way of seeping into everything—every pore. His chest was red and raw, yet he still felt unclean.
Mitch put the bar of soap back on the shower shelf and dropped his head, letting the hot water run down the back of his neck.
The bodies were at the morgue, forensic evidence had been sent to the lab, and he’d sent everyone home. At times like this, Mitch was grateful he didn’t have to hide his stress from anyone when he came home. He’d walked in, fed Gus, then taken a hot shower.
He sighed, turning off the water. He stepped out and towel dried himself before wrapping the towel around his waist. He wiped the steam from the mirror, and ran a hand through his hair, noting he really needed a haircut. Not long ago Bethenny had joked he looked like a young Brad Pitt, Mitch couldn’t see it, but his hair was definitely starting to mirror Brad’s longer hair days.
That probably wasn’t a bad thing, though, Mitch concluded.
He swept his hair to one side, ruffled his fingers through it, and called it done.
He padded to his bedroom, pulled a pair of jeans from his closet, and went back to the living room where Gus was curled up on one end of the sofa.
Mitch poured himself a scotch on the rocks then sank into the couch, closing his eyes for a moment before pulling his phone from his pocket. He opened his emails, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw an email from the coroner.
Victim identified
Mitch leaned forward, tapping on his screen, opening the email. He couldn’t read it fast enough.
Mitch,
One victim has been identified: Lana Seacombe. Due to the lack of decomposition (compared to some of the other victims), we were able to match her against the missing persons database. She went missing from St. Louis a little over twelve months ago. It is too early yet to determine her date of death, but I’m estimating she was killed within the last one to two months. Interestingly, her sister, Zoe Seacombe moved here two months ago—she bought the old converted church on Castle Road. She’ll need to be contacted to identify the victim, but we are certain it is Lana based on an angel tattoo on the back of her right shoulder, evidenced in social media images. I’ll call you to discuss.
Maria
Mitch grabbed his phone and rang Maria.
“Hey, Mitch,” she answered.
“Hey, I just read your email.” He walked toward his kitchen and poured his drink down the drain before he’d even taken a mouthful.
“Cause of death: seven stab wounds to the abdomen. She has multiple injuries, in addition to the ligature marks from the ropes used to suspend her body. I’ll prepare her as best I can,” Maria said.
Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you. I’ll go to Zoe’s now and see if she’s home,” Mitch said, flicking his wrist to see the time.
6:20pm.
“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” Maria said before hanging up.
Mitch rested his palms on the kitchen counter, leaning forward, inhaling a deep breath. It was a big coincidence that Zoe had moved to Redwater recently, considering Lana’s body had been found here. And Mitch didn’t like coincidences.
Questions churned in his mind, but he knew the only way to get answers was to meet with Zoe and ask her a few questions.
If he didn’t like her answers, he was going to have a lot more questions for her.
But if she was innocent in this, the news would crush her.
He inhaled a steady breath.
This was the part of his job he hated most.
He sighed and went to his bedroom in search of more clothes. He pulled a sweater over his head and laced up his Nikes. It was hardly professional attire, but it would suffice for a visit to a victim’s family.
He grabbed his pistol, wallet, and car keys.
