Vile by Debra Webb Page A

she’d seen in Jackson County today. She moved to the makeshift case board she’d created on the wall—her homework board. Like the one at the office, Maddie’s photo was there as well as the timeline from the moment she had been dropped off on Sixth Avenue until the present. A photo of her mother and grandmother, as well as a DMV shot of the boyfriend, had been added. Lori had taken numerous photos of the wall in Amanda Brownfield’s bedroom. Jess had printed those and posted them beneath Amanda’s photo. A photo of the car, now at Jefferson County’s forensic lab, had been posted as well. Jess wondered if the Cadillac had belonged to Margaret’s husband. The license plate had last been registered to Lawrence Howard. So far, that was the only record of Lawrence they’d found. He was listed as the father on Amanda’s birth record, but there was no marriage license between him and Margaret recorded in Jackson County. Margaret had still used her maiden name. Maybe the two were never married.
    If Lawrence was Amanda’s father, why hadn’t there been any photos? Maybe he’d abandoned the family, leaving the kind of bitterness that made Margaret destroy all reminders. He could be buried on the farm somewhere. Stranger things happened. Margaret may have discovered he was cheating on her or molesting their daughter—which might explain, to some degree, Amanda’s life style and penchant for criminal activities.
    How had Amanda become involved with Spears? It seemed so farfetched. They’d found no indication she’d ever lived in the Richmond, Virginia, area. SpearNet, Spears’s corporation, was headquartered in Richmond. Then again, Spears had a wide and varied following. Amanda may have run into him on the Internet. There were no computers in the home so she would have had to go to a library or a friend’s. Or she could very well be nothing more than a wannabe following the Spears storyline. The media had gone to great lengths to keep the world informed about Spears and his twisted following as well as the Birmingham cop who, unfortunately, was the focus of his current demented scheme.
    “Yay me.” Jess hugged her arms around her waist and headed to the fridge. She was starving. She couldn’t wait for Dan any longer.
    Her cell clanged and Jess rushed back to sofa where she’d left it. Hopefully, Dan was calling to say he was headed home with something scrumptious for dinner. Not Dan. Jess frowned. The caller ID showed the number for the cop outside watching her apartment.
    “Harris.” She wandered back to the window. Another vehicle was in the driveway but she couldn’t determine the make.
    “Chief, there’s two ladies out here who say you’re expecting them. I’ve checked their ID’s. Sylvia Baron and—”
    “Doctor Sylvia Baron,” a voice in the background corrected.
    “Dr. Sylvia Baron,” the officer amended, “and that reporter Gina Coleman.”
    Great . “Send them up.” Jess sighed. She wasn’t dressed for company and she was starving, but she couldn’t turn them away. Not if she wanted Sylvia to agree to drive over to Jackson County and have a look at Margaret Brownfield’s body. The Jackson County coroner bucked at releasing the body to Jefferson County, but he did agree to allow a look from an outsider. Not that he could have stopped the request but it was better to play nice than to get into a legal battle. You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar .
    Jess hadn’t been gone from the south so long that she’d forgotten everything she had learned growing up here.
    She tossed her phone aside and tugged at her t-shirt. She looked a mess. Her lounge pants were practically old enough to be considered vintage and the tee was her favorite, which meant both were well on their way to being worn out. Wouldn’t be the first time Sylvia or Gina had seen her in a completely natural state. No makeup, hair undone and looking thrift store chic. For that matter, every piece of