Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase
Chapter Forty-One
Friday 1200 hours
Katie stirred her fruit smoothie with a straw as she thought about Sadie’s information. She picked at her salad. Not saying much, her mind rattled back through Jeanine Trenton’s and Darla Winchell’s crime scenes. The injuries, the heavy ghoulish makeup, the settings. What was she missing?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a call from John.
“Scott,” she said.
“I just wanted to give you a preliminary report on Darla Winchell’s apartment.”
“Okay.”
“The blood on the walls and hallway has been identified as Darla’s, but we haven’t been able to identify any fingerprints except for hers. Many areas have been cleaned and scrubbed. I’ll keep you posted,” he said.
“Thanks, John.”
He ended the call and Katie slowly put her cell phone down.
“Want to clue me in?” asked McGaven, who was eating a large club sandwich.
“The blood in Darla’s apartment is hers and all other fingerprints have been cleaned. Nothing yet.”
“And?”
“I’ve told you everything that Sadie told me at the hospital.”
“No, I mean, what’s bothering you?” He held her gaze.
“I’m just digesting all of this—and no, I’m not talking about my food. Everything that we’ve seen and investigated. It’s like a dizzying maze.”
“And?”
“Doesn’t it bother you that Campbell brings us in to investigate and then he goes to his suite, following everything we’ve done?”
McGaven stuffed another bite in his mouth. “I’m worried more about your safety at this point. He’s got some kind of agenda. There are too many coincidences and strange occurrences.
Katie didn’t say anything. She let her thoughts run.
“Because two of the cases are ours—in our jurisdiction—and they all connect to cold cases.” He finished off his iced tea. “Let’s do our job and forget about him—for now. And pray that the killer doesn’t decide to kill again tomorrow.” He tried to keep everything upbeat, but Katie could tell he was really worried.
Katie had downed most of her smoothie, giving her an ice headache. “You know, Gav, I never have to worry why you ended up with me. It was meant to be—and no force was going to stop it. Thanks for being my rock.”
“Anytime.” He high-fived her.
Katie pulled out her small notebook and flipped through the pages, searching for a phone number.
“What’s up?”
“I’m looking for a number in Sacramento… here it is.” She dialed. Waited. “Yes, I would like to speak with Special Agent Campbell, please. Oh? Yes, Campbell.” Pause. “Could you put me through to his manager, please? Hello? Yes, I was looking for Special Agent Dane Campbell. Could you repeat that? And you’re sure. Thank you.” She ended the call.
“What did they say?” McGaven asked.
“I knew something was off. Now I know why.” She stared at McGaven. “The California High Crimes Task Force in Sacramento said that Special Agent Dane Campbell is on an extended leave and is not in charge of the serial cases anymore.”