“Tennyson gets sick in morgues. He says there’s so much death residue that he feels overwhelmed and anxious. Then he blows chunks. That gonna happen to you?” Cisco threw the question out like a gauntlet. The question was, would Cope pick it up.
“If it does, I’ve got a bottle of Scope in my backpack.” Cope sounded determined to work this case no matter how uncomfortable it would make him. “This case isn’t about my comfort or my abilities. It’s about a woman who left her house one afternoon and never came home. She deserves the absolute best the Salem Police Department has to offer.”
“And you’re part of that best?” Cisco raised an eyebrow.
Cope nodded. “I am, Chief.”
Cisco reached into his desk and pulled something out. He tossed it to Cope, who bobbled it for a second before catching it. He held the police badge up for Jude to see. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me. I, Copeland Forbes,-”
Jude beamed with pride as Cope was sworn in as a temporary member of the cold case team. He should have pulled out his phone to record the moment, but there would be time for accolades later, once this case was solved and Francesca Adams’s killer was behind bars.
“I don’t have to tell you time is of the essence here. Whoever killed Francesca has had four years to prepare for the eventuality of her body being discovered.” Cisco turned to Cope once again. “I know you have a soft spot for Oliver Adams. That ended the second you accepted the badge attached to your belt loop. There’s no room for personal attachments here. Got it?”
“Yes, chief,” Cope agreed.
“Keep me updated, Fitz, and for fuck’s sake, stay out of the press.” Cisco’s eyes were on Ronan, who tended to be a bit of a media darling.
“Speaking of, chief,” Ronan began.
“Fuck me with a guillotine, Ronan. Don’t tell me you’ve already spoken to them?”
“We listen and we don’t judge.” Ronan offered his boss a so-there look. “No, for your information I haven’t spoken to them, but they showed up at West Side Magick this morning as if Oliver Adams was the Pied Piper. Can we get an officer down there to keep the crowd back. Ten and the guys have readings today and as it’s nearly lunchtime, Cassie’s business is going to suffer if the lunch crowd can’t get near the building.”
“You got it,” Cisco agreed quickly, looking relieved.
“It may be a good idea to post someone at the Adams’ residence too. We all know how ugly people get when they think there’s a murderer among them. Not to mention the amount of media that will be camped out on his front lawn.”
“Good call, Ronan. I’ll get right on it.” For once, Cisco didn’t sound sarcastic. “Call me if anything unusual comes up.”
With a nod, Fitzgibbon grabbed one of the case file boxes and headed out the door. “We’ll be in one of the conference rooms going over this information.”
Each of the detectives grabbed a box. Jude indicated Cope should do the same. “You’re gonna be great,” Jude said, as they filed out into the hallway.
“Damn straight, I am.”
Closing the conference room door behind him, Jude set his box down on the table in the correct order. His was box three of four.
“Where do we even start since this case is sort of backward?” Cope asked. “Do we start at the beginning or with the discovery of the crime scene yesterday?”
“Let’s start at the beginning and go through everything chronologically.” Fitzgibbon popped the top off the first box. “If there’s anything you sense or feel, let me know. If you want to touch the evidence, put on a pair of gloves.
Cope nodded and started looking through the boxes.
Jude went against the grain and started with the crime scene photographs and the notes the officers had taken. In the first several pictures it was nearly impossible to tell that there were skeletal remains in the photo. The forest had grown up and around the bones. Fiddleheads sprouted between Francesca’s ribs, while last year’s pine needles, now brown with age, covered everything else. The last few shots were of the skull. A large bullet hole was punched through the back of her skull with a large exit wound in the center of her forehead, like a third eye. “Who the hell found the remains?” Jude asked.
“Troop of boy scouts,” Fitz said.
“Were they out trying to get their serial killer merit badge?” Ronan asked.
“No, wilderness survival,” Fitz said, with no humor in his tone. “One of the boys had volunteered to find firewood and tripped over the skull. He started screaming for help and the rest of the troop came running. Thankfully one of the troop leaders had a cell phone and was able to call 911. Usually they’re not allowed to bring technology into the woods, as it defeats the purpose of scouting to survive. The leader’s wife is nine months pregnant and could deliver any day, so he took his phone, not wanting to miss the birth of his child. Turned out to be a good thing he did. The hike out would have taken two hours and it would have been dark by the time help was called.”
“It’s surprising no one had stumbled on the remains sooner,” Jude said. “Hunters are always the ones finding human remains.”
“Yeah, but the Salem Towne Forest is city property. There’s no hunting allowed on the grounds. The part of the area where the body was discovered was off the beaten path. There were no trails out that far,” Fitz said. “Not to mention that the land abuts property belonging to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, with no hunting allowed there either. It’s a miracle she was found at all.”
Jude agreed with Fitzgibbon’s assessment. Like Oliver said earlier that morning, up until the body was found, he had hope that Francesca would walk through the door. Now, all hope was gone. It wasn’t going to be an easy time for Oliver, trying to make final arrangements for his wife, all the while being questioned by the police as her possible killer.
“I know we’re not supposed to be personally involved,” Cope said, “but do any of you think Oliver did this?”
