Web of Secrets (Agents Under Fire) (18 page)

He nodded grimly. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Becca assumed that was where they’d found Molly’s body. Becca could almost imagine the room. It would be like a dungeon. No windows. Maybe airless. Dank and musty. And Molly. Dear, sweet Molly, who’d do anything for anyone in need, had been left behind like trash.

A shudder ran over Becca, and she crossed her arms to keep warm, though the sun was beaming down on them. Smiling on them, belying Molly’s death. Becca’s loss.

She heard footsteps on a wooden floor and soon Sam was striding toward them. He wore his usual blue jeans with big belt buckle and cowboy boots. Becca could easily visualize him sitting astride a horse. Maybe wearing a Stetson on his head. Not coming to tell her about Molly’s death.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Becca.” He gave her arm a squeeze. His clothing carried the lingering scent of death and decay.

Becca jerked back, the knowledge of what she was about to see becoming very real. She’d breathed in the smell of death the other day, but it hadn’t been the final scent of someone she knew and cared about.

Sam watched her carefully, his lips a flat line. “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

Becca shook her head. “I have to do it.”

He turned to Kait. “I wish you’d think twice and stay here. I can accompany Becca. Between Connor and me, we’ll look out for her.”

Kait flashed a beaming smile at her husband. “I know you’d do a fine job, but Becca needs
me
with her.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“Then let’s go.” He led the way inside the fabrication plant.

Giant lathes stood like headstones, marking the grave of the former company. Metal shavings littered an old pine floor that had rotted in places. The few windows that weren’t broken were sprayed with so much graffiti, the interior was dark and ominous even in the daylight.

“Watch your step.” Sam pulled out a flashlight and gingerly stepped over cracked floorboards leading to the crumbling end of the building. At a doorway that had once been boarded up, he turned and looked at Kait. “I wish you’d reconsider.”

She fired him a terse look. “I’m going.”

“What is it with you two?” He sounded angry now. “The scene is gruesome and neither of you will be the same afterward.”

“He’s right, Kait,” Becca said. “You stay up here. I’m fine.”

Kait frowned and made a shooing motion. “Go ahead, I’m right behind you.”

Becca led the way down worn wooden steps. As she neared the bottom, the caustic scent of bleach mixed with a heavy musty odor and the unmistakable smell of a decaying body assaulted her.

Becca ignored it and turned the corner. The odor slammed up against her face and almost forced her lunch up and onto the cracked flooring. She put her wrist up to her nose, breathing in the scent of fabric softener that clung to her cuff, but it didn’t help, and she gagged. She looked back at Kait. She wasn’t faring any better.

Sam stepped in front of Kait. “Now are you ready to stay put?”

Kait shook her head and put her arm around Becca. Together, they stepped forward. Becca saw Connor standing near the far wall, his back to her. His broad shoulders were stiff, his feet planted wide, as if he was forcing himself to remain in the basement. He was talking to Dane and another criminalist she didn’t recognize. She moved on, settling her gaze lower. She spotted a table. It was the same table that she’d lain on with her hands bound. Today, there was a large plastic bag draped over it. Her gaze traveled higher, and she gasped.

On her back, Molly was wearing one of the white nightgowns. Her hands were folded over her chest. Her face was beaten and swollen. Becca took a step forward. When she thought she might collapse, she felt Kait’s hand under her elbow. Together, they approached the table. Connor turned.

“Aw, honey, why’d you come?” he said as he stepped closer. He stuffed his notebook and pen in his pocket and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. I know she was like a sister to you.”

Becca dropped his hand, and, as if in a trance, she moved alone toward Molly. Her long-lost friend’s hair was matted against a face covered with purple and yellow bruises. The yellow ones were more difficult for Becca to see. They meant that Molly had been here and suffered for some time before Van Gogh had finally killed her.

Becca turned back to Connor. “Gloves,” she demanded and held out her hand.

She knew he shouldn’t let her touch Molly, but he withdrew large latex gloves from his pocket. She snapped them on, for a moment transfixed with the excess size. Then she took a deep breath and went to Molly.

“I’m sorry, Molly,” she whispered, moving the hair from her friend’s battered face. Becca let her gaze roam the body. She saw cigarette burns on Molly’s arms and palms, noticed that her fingers were broken and the nails ripped out. Two fingers had been severed and were missing. “I wish I could have been here to stop this. To keep this evil person from hurting you again.”

She heard Kait crying behind her, and Sam comforting her. Then Kait came and placed a hand on Becca’s shoulder, urging her to leave.

Becca looked up at her friend. “Can I be alone with Molly? Please?”

“Everybody out,” Connor shouted and the staff obeyed, making a hasty exit while casting pity-filled gazes at Becca on the way out.

“You guys, too,” she said to her friends.

Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry, Becca, but one of us has to stay for evidentiary reasons.”

“You two go,” Connor said. When Sam and Kait moved toward the stairs, he turned to Becca. “I’ll wait over in the corner. Tell me when you’re finished.”

Becca wanted to argue, but Connor was just doing his job. They couldn’t leave her alone with the body. The body. Ha! When had Becca started calling her friend the body?

Becca believed in God. Molly had been the one to teach her about Him. About living a life with purpose, making a difference. And that’s what Becca had spent her life trying to do, even as she tortured herself for leaving Molly behind.

Becca took her friend’s beaten and battered hand to offer a prayer. When she finished, she stood quietly by Molly as time ticked past. Becca dug deep for the resolve that she’d used to get through life thus far. She’d been around and had seen things no kid should have to see. Lived a life that no kid should have to live. But then came Molly. Her friend. The girl who proved that there were good and decent people in the world.

Tears clouded Becca’s vision, but she couldn’t stop the direction her thoughts were going. Molly had been right. There were good people in the world. Becca had been blessed to know several of them, but now . . . now there was one less.

And Van Gogh was going to pay.

Chapter Twenty

CONNOR HATED EVERY moment of watching Becca’s agony, but she needed this time to find closure on a lifetime of torment regarding Molly. The moment Becca released her friend’s hand and stepped back, he crossed over to her. Her shoulders were pulled back, that fiery look of determination in her wounded brown eyes.

“I’ll walk you to the car,” he offered.

“I’m staying with Molly until the ME collects her.”

“Molly’s gone, honey. She won’t know if you’re here or not. And Marcie will take good care of her.”

“I don’t care. I’m staying.” The tears he’d expected earlier slid down her cheeks, and she blinked rapidly. “Kait said Molly had a family. Have they been notified?”

“Not yet. I’ll stop by to see her husband after we finish with the scene, and I clean up.”

“I want to go with you.”

“I hate to sound like a broken record, but that’s not the best idea.”

“For who?” She eyed him. “It will be better coming from me. I knew Molly. Loved her. They’ll want to hear that.”

“But having you there could affect the husband’s willingness to speak freely.”
Not to mention distract me.

“Then I’ll step out of the room, if necessary.”

“I’m not going to win on this, am I?”

“No,” she said sadly. “If you don’t let me go with you, I’ll head over there and tell him myself.”

“Then we’ll go together.”

“Okay to come in?” Marcie poked her head around the corner. Even in the dark, dank basement, her red hair shone brightly.

“Please,” Becca said, and Connor was thankful that Marcie had caught the case. She’d treat Molly with the utmost dignity.

Marcie entered wearing a Tyvek suit rolled up at the ankles due to her petite stature. Her feet were covered in booties, her hands with gloves, and she carried her field kit. She stopped next to Becca and squeezed her arm. “Kait told me the victim was your foster sister.”

Becca nodded, and Connor could see she was still working hard to control her tears. He hoped she wouldn’t fight them for long. She needed to let go and release some of her pain.

Marcie stepped over to the body and stared down at her as Connor and Becca took the other side. Becca took Molly’s hand in hers, as if protecting her from Marcie. Connor wanted to do the same thing—take Becca’s hand and lead her out of this mess to protect her from additional pain.

Marcie gritted her teeth and peered at Becca. “I’ll do everything within my power to make sure the creep who did this is caught.”

Becca nodded. “She’s obviously been tortured, but can you see a cause of death?”

Marcie shook her head, her corkscrew curls vibrating, but she didn’t speak. It was unlike her. Connor figured Marcie was likely holding her tongue because Becca was in the room.

“How about time of death?” Becca prodded.

Marcie looked at Molly. “I would only be speculating, and it wouldn’t hold up. The best thing I can do to advance the investigation is to get Molly to the morgue.”

“You can’t even hazard a guess?” Becca asked.

“I know you want answers, Becca, but it’s going to take time. Please be patient with me while I do this the right way,” Marcie said firmly. “I’ll let my assistant know that we’re ready to load up the bo—Molly.” She started for the stairway.

“Marcie,” Becca called after her.

Marcie turned. “Yes.”

“Thank you for being here for Molly.”

Marcie waved a hand. “No thanks necessary. I’m glad to do whatever I can to help.”

Becca turned her attention back to Molly. There was nothing Connor could do for Becca so he stood to the side as they waited for Marcie to return with her assistant. Today, Sandra accompanied Marcie, walking into the room with her gaze fixed on the floor. Sandra rarely made eye contact and seemed to live in the same world as the corpses she helped deliver.

Becca helped Marcie and Sandra move Molly’s body into a black body bag. Connor expected Becca to move away when the odor released from moving the body filled the room, but she stood strong. Marcie started closing the zipper on bag.

Becca blew a kiss to Molly and tucked her friend’s hand into the bag, then stepped back. When the bag was fully zipped, her tears flowed freely. Connor’s intention to allow her some space shattered at the sight of her grief. He circled his arm around her shaking shoulders and escorted her out of the room.

On the upper level where the air was clearer, he took her in his arms and held her while she sobbed. Marcie and Sandra trudged up the steps and loaded Molly onto a gurney that creaked over the rough wood floors. Connor continued to hold Becca until her crying subsided. Law enforcement officers were a tough breed, usually managing to keep it together, in even the most difficult situations. They grieved, railed, and fell apart in private.

Becca would be embarrassed in the morning for breaking down, but at least he’d kept her out of view of other officers.

When she stilled, he leaned back and resisted swiping away a tear. “Let’s find Kait and have her take you home for a shower. I’ll do the same thing when I’m done here, then pick you up to go see the husband. Okay, honey?”

She nodded, her lower lip trembling. She pressed her fingers over his shirt where her tears had darkened the fabric. “I’ve made a mess of your shirt.”

“No worries,” he said. “It’s there whenever you need it.”

She smiled up at him. A tremulous smile that tugged at his heart. He backed away before he did something stupid like kiss her. That was the last thing she needed right now. The last thing he needed, too.

“You good to go?” He gestured at the door.

She dabbed her eyes with the cuff of her shirt. “I’ll bet I look a mess.”

“Kind of raccoonish,” he admitted.

She rubbed under her eyes and looked at him, the red rims evidence of her sorrow.

“Better.” He forced out a smile.

She started for the door and with each step, her shoulders came up higher, and her trembling eased.

Outside, he breathed in the clean air, but he knew the stench of death still clung to his body. They met Kait and Sam by the car. Kait eyed Connor, not missing the wet patch on his chest.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Kait put an arm around Becca. “Let’s get you home.”

“Can you stay with Becca until I pick her up later?” Connor asked. “We have to notify Molly’s husband.”

Becca narrowed her gaze. “I don’t need a babysitter. Or even a friend right now. I just want to be alone to process my thoughts.”

“I’m still driving you home,” Kait said.

“And I’m here if you need me,” Connor added.

When she frowned, he shook his head slowly.

Becca was so strong. So independent. She didn’t really need anyone in her life. Even with this horrible shock, she wanted to be alone. Maybe she really did want to spend her life alone. No husband. No family.

As Connor watched her and Kait drive away, the thought made him sadder than he’d been in a long time.

REGINALD ZOOMED IN the scope on his long-range sniper rifle to focus on Becca’s face. She was stronger than he’d imagined. He’d suspected she would fall apart at seeing Molly’s body, but then, he’d always wondered if Becca understood his purpose and that’s why she let Molly go first. To make sure her friend experienced the joy of his cleansing.

She took a step closer to that big, burly cop from the other night. Reginald didn’t like the man. He seemed far too involved with Becca. Reginald would have to watch that. Watch to see if she was sleeping with the guy.

“She’ll be no use to you if she is,” his mother said. “You must test her to be sure of her purity.”

He put the rifle down to think. “Hopefully, she’ll leave her backpack at home when I go in to get her DNA sample. I’ll add a GPS tracker to it so I can tell where she is at all times. It would be better if I could track her via video or voice, but I just don’t have those capabilities right now. At least not at a long distance. But . . . I could record her conversations and listen to them later.”

“That would help,” his mother said.

“Yes,” he said absently, getting lost in his thoughts.

Maybe she’d provide positive proof that she was Lauren and the DNA he’d try to obtain tonight would just be icing on the cake.

THE SCALDING WATER pounded against Becca’s shoulders, but she couldn’t get rid of the smell of death. Molly’s smell. She’d soaped her body several times, washed her hair at least four times. Nothing worked. She knew it was likely just her imagination, which couldn’t let go of the gruesome crime scene. She should have listened to Kait, Connor, and Sam and stayed away. But if she had to do it all over again, she’d still spend time with Molly before Marcie performed the autopsy.

Besides, Becca had needed to see it. How else was she going to truly believe another person she loved had been taken from her?

She twisted the knob and toweled dry so forcefully that her skin burned. With the towel still wrapped around her body, she went to her closet and stood there, staring, trying to figure out what to wear. What did a person wear when she had to tell someone their loved one had been brutally murdered?

Did she wear a suit to make them realize it was a professional call from the get-go? Or did she dress casually, in her jeans and a T-shirt, so as to not give any warning until the words were out? She just didn’t know. She’d never had to do it until she and Connor visited Allie’s mother. It was bound to be even harder when the news pertained to someone she cared about. And she’d loved Molly. Fiercely.

In the end, Becca chose a compromise—khaki pants, a button-down blue shirt, and semi-casual shoes. She dressed quickly and towel-dried her hair before pulling it back in a ponytail.

“You can do this,” she said to herself in the mirror, while slathering on face lotion. “You’ve survived worse things than doing a death notification.”

Like losing Molly
, Becca’s mind screamed. Tears fought for release and she closed her eyes, forcing her thoughts to her single priority in life, now that Molly had been found. She had to find her killer. Find Van Gogh. Keeping busy was the way to deal with loss. No time to think. No time to feel. She’d done it before. She’d do it again.

Hoping Kait had somehow decided to take off, Becca stepped into the living room. Kait sat on the couch. She’d taken a quick shower in the spare bathroom and changed from her suit into jeans and a comfy top that Sam had dropped by. It looked like Kait intended to sit with Becca all night, but Becca wouldn’t allow that, of course.

Kait stood, her eyes creased. “Feeling better?”

Becca wasn’t about to start this conversation with Kait or she’d never leave.

“I’m good.” Becca picked up her phone to see if Connor had called or texted. Nothing. “Does Sam have any idea when Connor will get here?”

“He’s on his way now.” She rested a hand on Becca’s shoulder. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m not sick, Kait, so don’t treat me like I am.” Becca took a deep breath. “In fact, you should just go home. Like I said before, I’d like to be alone.”

“Dear, mistaken Becca.” Kait drew her into a hug. “You’re heading right back to becoming the woman I knew when we first met.”

Becca didn’t return the hug. If she did, she’d start crying like a baby. And she also wouldn’t say anything to encourage Kait to stay.

Kait pulled back. “You wouldn’t let anyone get close then, and you’re back behind that same wall, now.”

“Nothing’s changed.” Becca sat down and pretended to check email on her phone.

“Right,” Kait said. “You’ve just lost the woman you loved most in this world, and you’re acting like it’s just another day. If that doesn’t mean you’re hiding how you feel, I don’t know what does.”

“Give it a rest.” Becca fired a warning look at Kait.

Kait’s expression fell. Becca had hurt her. It was the last thing Becca had wanted to do. Kait, along with Nina, had been good friends for the last few years, and Becca didn’t want to ruin that now.

Becca softened her voice. “Please, let it go, Kait. For me.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t shut me out.” Kait perched on the edge of a chair. “You can’t keep this bottled up. You’re holding on to enough other stuff already. There’s no room.”

Becca opened her mouth to argue, but the doorbell rang. She raced for the door.

“Don’t think this conversation is over,” Kait called after her.

Becca took a moment to compose herself, then opened the door. Connor stood waiting. He’d changed into dark jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a blue jacket that brought out the dark color in his eyes. His hair was still wet, attesting to the fact that, after his shower, he’d raced right over there.

“Ready?” he asked.

Thankful he didn’t ask how she was doing, she nodded. “Just let me grab my things.” She turned and held the door for him to step inside.

“Kait,” he greeted. “Sam’s gone home to shower and will be over soon to pick you up.”

Good, Sam was taking Kait home.

“Keep an eye on her,” Kait said as if Becca wasn’t in the room. “She’s pretending to be okay with this, but I know she’s not.”

Connor eyed her, his gaze compassionate as he searched. Somehow, his intense study was different from Kait’s, and Becca actually didn’t mind it. Which was a problem, in itself. She was letting him get too close.
She
was getting too close. Hadn’t Molly’s death just showed her the pain that came with opening herself to love?