A Deeper Grave. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ had worked together for a few weeks. Howard Newton—Newt—had been Bobbie’s partner since the day she made detective. Seven years. He’d been like a father to her. His death two months ago had left her reeling. She missed him something fierce. Always would. But life moved on whether you were ready for change or not. September fifteenth a new detective had transferred in from Birmingham and Lieutenant Owens, the Major Crimes Bureau commander, promptly introduced him as Bobbie’s new partner. Holt and Bauer had been partners for nearly a decade. It was only right that the new guy was assigned with Bobbie.

      Like every other aspect of her life this year, finding balance with a new partner hadn’t been easy. She’d lost so damned much. Until recently she’d spent most of her time wishing for just two things: vengeance and death. She hadn’t expected to accomplish one without the other, and yet here she was.

      No looking back.

      “You got food in the house?” she asked, her voice sounding loud after the long span of silence. “We could go shopping after work.”

      Bauer made a disgusted sound. “Like I said, I don’t need a babysitter.”

      As much as she understood his frustration, she couldn’t deny being grateful that someone else was the object of the team’s scrutiny and concern these days. She’d done her time and endured more than her share of sympathetic looks and queries as to whether she was okay. Okay was something she might never again be, but she was moving forward. One slow step at a time.

      She said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” She hadn’t noticed any weight loss. Obviously the man was eating. The dark circles under his eyes suggested he wasn’t sleeping as well as he should. Still, every sandy-brown hair was in place and he was dressed as if he was headed to a magazine cover shoot rather than the morning briefing.

      Bauer exhaled a big breath. “I’m good, that’s all anyone needs to know.” He paused for a couple of beats. “I appreciate the offer, but I can do my own shopping.”

      Bobbie braked for another traffic light. This time she turned to him. “I get it and I’ll gladly stop nosing into your business on one condition.”

      He gave her an eye roll. “And what might that condition be?”

      “If you need someone, you’ll call me. Deal?”

      He made an impatient face, but he nodded his agreement. “Deal. Now get off my back.”

      “You got it.” The light changed to green and she nudged the accelerator. Since she hadn’t exactly set the best example of reaching out to friends for help, she appreciated that Bauer didn’t mention as much.

      He unclipped his cell from his belt, checked the screen and answered, “Morning, Sarge. What’s up?”

      Unless Holt had decided to check up on him, there was a call. Bauer grunted in response to whatever the sergeant was saying. Bobbie concentrated on driving, tension working its way into her muscles. The city of Montgomery had been pretty quiet the past two months. The serial killer known as the Storyteller had wreaked havoc for a few days back in August but he was in hell now where he belonged.

      Bauer ended the call and tucked his phone away. “We got two bodies over on the corner of Westminster and Woodmere. Devine is already on the scene. You can drop me off at CID and head that way.”

      “Any details on what happened?”

      “She didn’t tell me a whole lot. She was bringing me up to speed on a case in her neighborhood that blew up again last night.”

      “The domestic abuse case?” Bobbie had a bad feeling about that one. The couple lived only two doors down from Holt. Every time there was a flare-up between them it was worse than the last. Holt had, unfortunately, let the escalating situation get personal for her. Like you have any room to talk, Bobbie.

      Some things were personal.

      Bauer nodded. “That’s the one.” He moved his head from side to side. “I don’t get why women stay in that shit.”

      Bobbie didn’t, either. Not really. Although she had to admit that her own experience with being abducted, raped and tortured had changed her in ways she hadn’t expected, so she tried not to judge anyone else. Talk was cheap until it happened to you.

      “How about you drop me off at the scene?” she suggested. “When I’m done there, I’ll hitch a ride with Devine.”

      Bauer didn’t answer as she slowed for a U-turn.

      “Any witnesses? Who found the bodies?” she asked, not wanting to give him time to come up with an excuse for why he couldn’t drive her car to the Criminal Investigation Division offices.

      He shrugged. “Don’t know about any witnesses. Holt said the housekeeper found the bodies.” Bauer reached for the coffee he’d abandoned in the cup holder and knocked back a slug. “She did say it’s some creepy shit though.”

      “I guess I’ll find out.”

      Creepy was relative. After what she’d gone through with the Storyteller, very little surprised Bobbie. Still, adrenaline pumped hot and fast through her veins. There was a lot missing in her life. No matter that she’d stopped the monster responsible for that loss, the emptiness remained. Being a cop was all she had left. She worked hard to stay on her toes and to maintain focus. Being a cop was her life.

      The case was all that mattered.

      Westminster Drive

      8:30 a.m.

      Detective Steven Devine waited on the sidewalk outside the tri-level brick home now surrounded by yellow crime scene tape. The lawn was neatly kept with lush green shrubbery and large trees. The house was situated in a typical middle-class suburb in an older, quiet neighborhood. Any vehicles the owners drove were either gone or hidden away in the garage.

      Bobbie waved to Devine, then greeted the officer maintaining the perimeter as she ducked under the tape. The presence of two Montgomery Police Department cruisers as well as that of the coroner’s van had drawn neighbors outside. So far Bobbie didn’t see any sign of reporters, which suited her just fine. She’d had her fill of the media over the past ten months. Be that as it may, as soon as word about the homicides hit the grapevine the newshounds would appear. Generally they weren’t far behind the coroner’s van.

      “Morning, Bobbie,” Devine said, his good old Southern boy smile in place.

      He was a couple of years younger than Bobbie’s thirty-two. Tall, lean and reasonably attractive with the kind of calming blue eyes that stirred trust, particularly in female witnesses. He kept his dark hair cut regulation short and his tailored designer suits professionally pressed. More important than all the outer trappings, his history as a homicide detective in Birmingham was impeccable. So far Bobbie couldn’t complain.

      “Morning. What do we have inside?” Bobbie headed for the front door.

      Devine’s long legs easily kept up with her hurried stride. “Husband and wife are deceased. The bodies appear to have been staged. Sixteen-year-old daughter and ten-year-old son weren’t home. The housekeeper says they frequently stay with friends.”

      “We need to confirm the location of the children ASAP.” Worry tied a knot in her gut. If the kids were home at the time of the murders there СКАЧАТЬ