AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Navarro pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Smoothing it flat on her desk, Kit saw that it was the grid she’d prepared. It was already worn at the folds. Navarro had been consulting it often, it appeared. There were notes along the margins in his chicken-scratch handwriting.
He poised his pen next to the line for the fourth victim. Fourth known victim, anyway. “She was found five years ago and the ME estimated her age at fifteen,” he read from the grid. “Who do you think she was?”
“Miranda Crisp.” Kit handed him the missing-person report. “She matches the victim profile, and the date she went missing was consistent with the ME’s estimated time of death.”
“Seven years ago.”
“Yes, sir. She was blond, petite, and a cheerleader at a high school in Chula Vista. Also considered a runaway. She was a foster kid. Had run before.”
Navarro exhaled wearily. “We’ve done a shitty job with these so-called runaways. Laziness.”
Kit could only agree. The cops who’d taken Wren’s missing-person report had been equally dismissive. Just a runaway. She’ll come back.
Wren hadn’t and neither had Miranda. Or Ricki. Or Jaelyn.
“Her foster parents did all the right things,” Kit said. “They reported her missing the very night she didn’t come home from school and cooperated with the police. They were never suspects.”
Navarro scanned the report. “She wanted to go to L.A., to be in movies.”
“Yep, just like Ricki and Jaelyn.”
He looked up, a gleam in his eye. “So a legit pattern.”
“Yes. We still don’t know how it connects to their killer, but it’s more than we knew yesterday.”
“Good work, Kit.”
“Thank you, sir, but Baz found this one. I’m going to visit the family who reported her missing when I’m done here, to ask for anything they might have kept. It was a foster placement, so the chances that they kept anything of Miranda’s is low. She went missing nearly seven years ago. I’m sure they’ve had a lot of kids pass through in the meantime.”
“It’s worth a try.” He handed the report back to her and started for his office. “Call me if you learn anything new.”
“Will do. Thanks, boss,” she called.
He turned, a small smile on his face. “For what?”
“The candy bar. I needed it.”
“I know.”
“Is it from your personal stash? I’ll replace it.”
He chuckled. “No, it’s from my personnel stash. I keep something in there for every detective in the division. You’re not the only one who embraces chocolate when they’re having a rough day. If you want to replace it, fine, but it’ll sit there until you or someone else needs it. Maybe even me.”
“Well, thanks anyway. I—” She stopped when the landline on her desk rang. “This is Detective McKittrick,” she answered.
“Detective, this is the downstairs desk. A call came in for you. Caller wouldn’t give his name. You asked to be warned if it happened. Should I put him through?”
A shiver of anticipation raced down her spine.
“Boss,” she called. “This may be my caller.”
He was at her desk in two strides. “Put it on speaker.”
“Yes, please,” she told the clerk. “But first, what number is he calling from?” The clerk told her and she noted it. “Thank you. Please, put him through.” She activated the recorder, then exhaled quietly before answering. “This is Detective McKittrick. How can I help you?”
“Detective.” It was him. The voice she’d listened to dozens of times. “I have a tip for you.”
“Another one?”
