Judas Kiss

“The gangs are ru

“We live out here in the suburbs and expect to be safe. This is a good neighborhood. I’m going to talk to Cha

Taylor held up her hands for silence. “People, please. My name is Taylor Jackson, and I’m the lieutenant in charge of the homicide division. I haven’t even been briefed on this incident. Perhaps you’d like to give me some time to get acquainted with the scene and determine what’s happened before you tear me apart?”

They grumbled, but the logic shut them up.

“Thank you. Please know that we’ll be doing everything in our power to solve this case. I appreciate that you’re upset, and I can’t blame you. But let me get a sense of the scene, and I’ll come back and talk to each of you again. All right?”

She stepped away before the crowd could respond. She’d be talking to them. Interviewing them. Trying to ascertain if there was someone in that mix who’d had a hand in the murder she was about to dissect.

“Fitz, can you get their names? Just in case. I don’t want to miss anyone.”

“Sure,” he answered, pulling a notepad from his shirt pocket.

She crossed the street and met up with Bob Parks. He was twiddling his finger in the curled edge of his mustache, ruminating to a uniformed officer about the chances of the Te

J.T. Ellison

“Hey, how’s my favorite LT? You happy to be home from your grand tour?”

“Not really, Parks, but thanks for asking. I’d hop on a plane back in a heartbeat. Don’t give up on the Titans too soon, my friend. They’ll recover. In the meantime, go root for the Predators.”

He looked shocked. “Hockey? Are you kidding, LT?

I’m a pigskin man, tried and true. I’m a Volunteer. I bleed orange.” He thumped his chest with a closed fist. Fervent was an understatement when it came to fans of the University of Te

“Well, our Volunteers need to take the SEC Championship this year or Phil Fulmer will wake up to a moving van in his driveway. Besides, being a good Te

boys when they graduate, right?”

Fitz crossed the street to their position, waving the notebook. “Got ’em.”

“God, a woman talking football is a beautiful thing, eh, Fitz?”

Fitz just shook his head. Taylor spoke again, dispensing with the chatter this time.

“What do we have here?”

The smile left Parks’s face and he became all business.

“It’s not pretty, I’ll give you that. Decedent’s name is Cori

Judas Kiss

35

“Just run it down for me. Highlights.”

“Okay. I got the call around 9:40 a.m., came straight here. Met the sister, who was being attended to for shock by the EMTs. House 37 got the call, they were here first with two trucks and the ambulance at…” He looked at his sheet. “9:38 a.m. Sister’s name is Michelle Harris. She was holding the decedent’s daughter, Hayden Wolff, who was covered in blood but seemed in stable condition. She relayed that her sister was dead inside the house, facedown on the floor in her bedroom. She didn’t recall touching anything, but we printed her for exclusion. First entry was made at 9:48

a.m. by me and EMT Steven Jones. We entered the home, cleared the downstairs, noted the amount of blood, made our way upstairs to check the victim.”

Parks had gotten ashen under his normally swarthy skin tone. “It’s stinky up there. Looks like she’s been dead for at least a day. Got smacked around pretty hard. Jones touched her wrist, just to confirm, and we agreed it was too late for his assistance. We retraced our footsteps and I started the evidentiary procedures. We had three more patrols on the scene at that point, so we got started setting up command and control while we waited for you. Despite the biologicals everywhere, the scene is pretty much contained to the master bedroom. That’s where the action took place. The rest is secondary transfer.”

“Fitz said there was a little girl. Did the transfer come from her or the killer?”

Parks nodded. “Looks like the kid. You’ll see when you get in there. I talked to the sister, got her story. Apparently they had a date to play te

J.T. Ellison

house, saw her sister, grabbed the kid, called 911 and skedaddled. She’s been questioned already, but I knew you’d want to talk to her. I’ve got to warn you, the victim’s parents are here. The sister called her mom after she finished with 911. Everyone is pretty shaken up.”

“Where’s the husband?” Taylor asked.

“On a business trip. Convenient, huh?”

“I’ll say. Can you find out where he is for me?”

“Already done. The mom called him, he was in Georgia and is on the road now, driving back. Should be in this afternoon.”

Taylor looked at Fitz, who was writing in his notebook. “Wouldn’t you fly home if it were you?”

“Yep,” Fitz said.

Parks gave her a wry grin. “I asked the same thing. No direct flights. It was quicker for him to drive. At least, that’s what the mom said.”

Parks handed over some of the items Taylor would need to enter the house—booties, latex gloves. He offered a blue paper mask, similar to one her dental hygienist wore, but she shook her head once, declining. No sense in that. No matter the precautions, the scent of death would sneak into her sinuses, settling for hours. She slipped her sunglasses into her front pocket; she wouldn’t need them inside.

“Is Father Ross here?”

The Metro police department’s chaplain was a kind, gentle man who Taylor had relied on more times than she could remember. It was hard enough to inform a family member that a loved one was dead. Having the minister along was not only helpful, it was mandated.

“He’s here. The whole group of them, parents, two Judas Kiss

37

sisters and the kid are in the next door neighbor’s house, huddled up, waiting for you.”

“Anyone know when the victim was seen last?” she asked.

“We’re working on nailing that down right now. The sister talked to her Friday. One of the neighbors might’ve seen her, or something.”

“Okay. When did the ME get called?”

“Same time as you, LT. Dr. Loughley is on duty this morning, she’s—”

“Right here,” a voice called out. Taylor turned to see her best friend, Samantha Loughley, walking up the drive, her kit slung over her right shoulder. Her dark brown hair was up in a ponytail, thick bangs swept across her forehead. The bangs were a new look, and Sam had been bemoaning the haircut for a week.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said as she reached Taylor.

“What’s up, Parks? Fitz, you look well.”

Fitz gri

“Like the new look, Owens,” Fitz needled. Sam rolled her eyes. “Are you ever going to start using my married name, Sergeant? ”

“Naw. I like Owens. Loughley’s too hard to say.” He jostled her with his hip and smiled.

Sam dropped her bag on the folding card table that 38