Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase

Chapter Four

Monday 1045 hours

Katie and McGaven waited while a courier wheeled three loads of boxes on a hand truck into the forensic lab, unloading them along the hallway next to their office.

“Wow,” said McGaven, eyeing the boxes as they were stacked high.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.” Katie was amped to get started and began to dig through the files.

“How do you want to do this?” he said. “The boxes are marked by victim, date, and location.”

“Let’s start with Jeanine Trenton, as the sheriff suggested. She’s in our jurisdiction and then we can move backwards.”

“Sounds good,” he said and grabbed two boxes, moving them into their office.

Katie did the same.

“Let’s move the rest of the boxes into the storage across the hall,” she said, hoisting more loads.

Within ten minutes, everything had vanished from the hallway and the boxes were put in order.

The cold case office was small but it sufficed, with two desks fitted in a T-shape. Two of the walls were filled with cupboards. A long counter with a sink occupied another wall, with several storage compartments underneath. Since they were in the forensic division, the offices were retrofitted with an area for forensic technicians to perform their specific duties, not for administrative assignments. A rolling whiteboard was pushed into one corner of the room and at the moment was wiped clean—ready for new information.

She and McGaven each had a box, marked “Trenton, Homicide, Raven Woods, Sequoia County.” Katie opened hers and began sorting everything from the interviews—autopsy report, police reports, forensics, and photographs.

“You haven’t really said how you feel about this,” McGaven said, breaking the silence.

“It’s another cold case.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s a cold case,” she repeated.

“Katie.”

“Alright, yeah, this Campbell is a little sneaky and he strikes me as someone who follows his own rules and not the rules the rest of us have to abide by.”

“You needed to get that out,” he said and smiled.

“There’s a ton of stuff here, but from what I can see, lots of duplicates.” She sighed.

“Have you seen this?” he said and tossed over three photos of a house with boarded-up windows.

“Is that the Jeanine Trenton home?”

“Yep.”

“Why are the windows boarded up?” Her interest had been piqued.

Flipping through some reports, McGaven said, “It seems that the house was vandalized not long after the murder, so they boarded the place up.” He opened an envelope with a single house key. “How convenient.”

“It hasn’t been sold or rented? It’s been a year.”

“No. It had been willed to Jeanine Trenton by her grandmother, Ida Davies, two years previously. Completely paid for. Unfortunately, no one wants to buy it due to…”

“Someone being brutally murdered there.” Katie finished his sentence.

“Exactly,” he said, skimming through information. “I say—”

“We take a ride over to Raven Woods,” she finished.

“Stop doing that,” he said.

“What?”

“Finishing my—”

“Sentences. Isn’t that what partners do?” For the first time since receiving the case, Katie smiled. “And it’s your turn to buy lunch—and something better than a gas station burrito.”

Dropping the files on his desk, he said, “Let’s begin at the house as a starting point like we usually do—the crime scene,” he said. “And what’s wrong with those burritos?”

“I have to make a stop first.”

“For?”

“Cisco.”