Cause to Kill (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1) by Blake Pierce Page A

had been sprayed on her forehead and hair tips to imitate sweat, and her
mouth was puckered in a sense of breathlessness.
    “She’s not wearing any undergarments,” Ray said.
    Cindy Jenkins wore undergarments: panties and a bra. What does
that mean? Avery wondered. Is the killer becoming bolder? Did she just leave
the house that way?
    Tabitha’s eyes were open and focused on something in the distance.
    Avery tracked the line of sight to a bunch of white, short
tombstones on an opposite, grassy decline.
    “Finley,” she said, and inwardly bristled at his name, “write down
whatever you see on those graves over there. Mark them down so I know which
one’s first, second, third, got it? Then take a walk around the area. Serial
killers usually return to the scene of the crime to get a cheap thrill. Maybe
ours is still here.”
    “A serial killer?” He beamed. “Oh wow. You got it, Black,” and he
flashed her a can-do attitude and pointed a finger in her face to express
seriousness.
    “Is that your partner?” Ray asked.
    “No,” she insisted.
    Once again, he tried to start a conversation.
    “Saw you in the paper a couple of days ago.” He smiled. “ And ,”
he emphasized, slightly embarrassed, “I saw you in a lot of papers a few
years ago.”
    His implication wasn’t clear until Avery glanced at him and
realized: He’s flirting.
    It was hard for her to do anything in front of a dead body except
analyze what happened and try to piece together the puzzle. She wondered if
that was some kind of mechanical flaw born from her past guilt and torment, but
then she remembered she’d always been that way, even as an attorney: focused,
relentless, and eager to find the connections that would lead to success. Now,
the only difference was that those connections weren’t just ways to get her
clients off—they were ways to stop murderers.
    Ray sensed her discomfort and changed the subject.
    “You think this is your guy?”
    Avery cleared her throat.
    “Absolutely,” she said. “This is his work.”
    “Well then,” he sighed, “I’ll share whatever we have. We don’t get
many crime scenes like this in Watertown. And, if you like, we can even have
the body sent to your lab and you can take things over from there. You OK with
that?”
    “Of course,” she said, genuinely appreciative. “That would be
great.”
    “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he added with a smile, “I’m not just a
nice guy. Truth be told? I’m a little OCD when it comes to sharing. It makes my
skin crawl trying to imagine two sets of paperwork on something this important,
and timely.”
    “Still,” she offered, “thank you.”
    He held her look for as long as possible; Avery blushed and turned
away, excited by the attention but eager to get back to work. Thankfully, another
officer flagged him down.
    “Lieutenant, we have a situation over here.”
    “Be right back,” Ray said.
    The cemetery was peaceful, calming, just like the area where Cindy
Jenkins was placed in Lederman Park. Why? Avery wondered. What’s the
significance of parks? Mentally, she checked off avenues to pursue: Was Tabitha
a sorority girl like Cindy? She’s a junior, and half Asian. So the killer can’t
be hunting down seniors, or specifically white girls. Cindy came from an
established family. What about Tabitha? They were both abducted from Cambridge.
Why? Is that where the killer lives? Where was Tabitha last seen? Who saw her
alive? Can we get surveillance? The list seemed endless.
    What do we know ? she pushed.
    Nothing, she mentally replied. We know absolutely nothing.
    No , she rallied, we know something : the relative size and
shape of the killer, his ethnicity, MO, and the specific drugs he used. Ramirez
was compiling a list of hallucinogenic plant suppliers, as well as car
dealerships and Internet sites that sold Chrysler blue minivans. We can pursue
those leads. We can also share the killer’s sketch with Cambridge police. See
if there’s a match. We