Tara’s eyes fluttered open, but before she could even make sense of her surroundings, her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She sat up quickly, still in a daze, as she scanned the room. She was in her bed. John was next to her. Last she remembered, she had fallen asleep on the couch, but John must’ve woken her.
Her phone pulsated again, and John began to stir.
“Who is it?” he asked. “What time is it?”
She looked to her nightstand and squinted in the dark to read the name flashing across the screen—Reinhardt, her boss. Her heart leapt, and she felt instantly awake. She didn’t even take a second to reply to John before springing out of bed, grabbing the phone, and tiptoeing across the cold floor. Just as she exited the room, she picked up.
She was about to say good morning, even though she wasn’t quite sure if it was still late in the night. But before she could even utter a word, Reinhardt spoke.
“Good, you’re up,” he started. “I got a new case for you.”
“Yeah?” Tara tried to sound as awake as possible.
“A skeleton was found buried under the sand dunes yesterday after the storm passed, down by Dewey beach. They think it might be Alyssa White. She went missing last year, but the case went cold after a while.”
Tara felt a pit in her stomach. She remembered the news stories last summer. Alyssa was a straight-A student who had just gotten accepted to some Ivy League school. She had taken a trip to Dewey Beach with her family to celebrate, but then one night she disappeared. It sent a shock wave throughout the whole community.
But Tara also knew that she wouldn’t get a call just for developments in a cold case unless there was suspicion of a serial killer.
“And what, they think it’s a serial killer?” Tara asked.
Reinhardt sighed. “That’s what it’s lookin’ like. Homicide has been searching the area all night for evidence, and they just found another body about an hour ago.”
“You want me to head over?”
“Yes, I just got off the phone with Warren. He’s already on his way, so the sooner you can get there, the better.”
Tara agreed, and they were soon off the phone. She had only been to Dewey Beach once since she moved to Washington, D.C. It was about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from where they lived. Her eyes moved to the time on the stove. She hadn’t even taken a moment to turn a light on when she got the call, and the green light of the time stung her eyes—it was five thirty. If she left in twenty minutes, she could get there just short of eight thirty.
The light fixture above her suddenly lit up, instantly making her squint. John was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway to their bedroom.
“Everything all right?” he asked as he fully moved into the light-filled room.
“It was Reinhardt. I have a new case out by Dewey Beach. I got to head over there now.”
Concern washed over John’s face, but she could see his struggle to control it, not to let it show.
“You’re going to be okay?” he asked. “With everything going on with your dad?”
Silence filled the space between them. Tara knew it wasn’t ideal. She had wished and hoped that she could lay the issues of her past to rest before embarking on another case. But she also knew it wasn’t realistic. Her past was way too complicated, more than she probably understood, and she would have to chip away at it to get to the center. She most certainly couldn’t put her life or her career on hold.
“I have to be,” she said firmly. “I can’t put everything else on hold until I get answers.”
John nodded. “If you get any nightmares, though, if it affects your ability to perform, to stay safe…”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I haven’t had any nightmares—not since I admitted what they stemmed from. I’ll be okay.”
“And you’ll tell me, right? If you have them again?”
Tara could feel herself hesitate before she could speak. It was always something hard for her to be open about. She had always wanted to protect John from her pain, afraid she’d pull him down. And it was also something she had kept to herself for so long before she even met him. Learning to be open was exceptionally difficult. But she had promised him that she would be, and she knew their relationship depended on it.
“Yes, I promise.”
John moved closer to her, giving her a quick kiss before pulling away, and her eyes drifted to the clock.
“I have to get ready.”
John nodded again, but she could see another question rising within him.
“Are you still going to visit your dad again?”
“Yes,” she replied. “As soon as I get a break from work.”
Her words trailed behind her as she walked to the hallway and shifted her focus to the case.
***
Tara stepped out of her car as the salty wind brushed against her face. She had just arrived at Dewey Beach, and she could already see that Warren was there, his car parked amongst the row of police vehicles and forensics vans. News crews littered the street, some doing live shots while others looked toward her as she made her way to the beach.
She stepped over the yellow tape that lined the entrance and then trudged up the walkway as sand snuck into her shoes. She could see Warren just over the hump, speaking with a man in a sheriff’s uniform whose jet-black hair danced in the wind. As she saw Warren, it reminded her of the texting conversation they had yesterday. He knew about her visit to New York. He was concerned. It was only a matter of time before he would bring it up in person, and Tara didn’t yet know what she planned to say. But she also knew she had time, since this case would be their focus now.
Warren and the sheriff kept looking toward her, and then their eyes would veer off to the side of her. She followed their gaze to the right to see forensics and a detective standing atop the sand dunes. As she moved closer to Warren, his eyes turned to her again and remained there. She could see a slight smile form at her presence.
“This is Agent Mills,” he said once she was close enough.
The sheriff nodded and then reached out his hand to introduce himself. “Sheriff Patel,” he said.
Warren assured her that he had just gotten to the scene only fifteen minutes before she did, and he was just getting filled in.
“Well, what do we know?” Tara asked. Farther down the beach, she could see yellow tape whipping in the wind.
“A woman was on the beach after the storm yesterday with her six-year-old daughter,” the sheriff said. He had a short beard, salt-and-pepper, with a whiteness that shimmered at the touch of the sun, now beginning to peek through the stormy clouds. “Their dog ran up onto the sand dunes and started digging. The daughter followed. Turns out he was digging up the leg of the victim, which is just a bone at this point.”
“Oh my god. That’s horrible,” Tara said.
Warren nodded. “I spoke to her on the phone right before you got here. She didn’t have anything new to say. She just seemed a bit distraught over what her daughter saw.”
“And it’s presumed to be the remains of Alyssa White?” Tara asked.
“That’s what it looks like, but you can speak to the forensic anthropologist yourself.” He motioned to the dunes in front of them, where Tara could see a woman crouched down and speaking to another person.
But then Tara’s eyes drifted down the beach to where another part was sectioned off with yellow tape. She had to squint to see law enforcement moving amongst the sand, like ants.
The sheriff caught her gaze. “Yeah, and then we found that body. It’s about a quarter mile down the beach.” He looked between Tara and Warren. “A young female victim. She was reported missing eight days ago. She’s a local, works at a coffee shop—never came home from work.”
“You sure there’s no other bodies?” Warren asked.
The sheriff nodded. “We’ve run cadaver dogs up and down this beach for hours. We would’ve found it by now.”
Warren then turned to Tara. They agreed to go speak with the anthropologist, and then they would make their way down the beach to where the second body was found. They walked toward her. The beach was littered with objects thrown from the ocean—seaweed, buoys, boardwalk boards—all tossed there by the strong force of the storm. The remains of a wooden-slat fence lined the sand dunes, showing just how far the water had risen on the beach. What once was used to control erosion, to protect the dunes, was now pulled apart, consumed by the sand it was meant to control. Tara stepped over the slats.
As she and Warren trudged up the small hill, a woman kneeling in the sand looked up. Her dark hair was tied neatly in a knot at the base of her neck. She smiled as they approached. Tara sensed a familiarity between them.
“Warren.” The woman beamed.
Warren smiled in return, blushing slightly, something Tara had never seen his face do before. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he asked.
She nodded before Warren proceeded to introduce them. Dr. Lyn Harris worked for the FBI, specializing in forensic anthropology. She was middle-aged, and Tara had the sense that she’d worked for the bureau for quite a while, as had Warren. Her face looked vaguely familiar. Tara had probably seen her in passing at one point or another. But she could also sense something else. It was the way Dr. Harris’s eyes lit up as Warren approached, the way Warren’s gaze receded at the notice of her. Warren cleared his throat, as if to ease the awkwardness, and Dr. Harris’s face abruptly shifted to a sterner look, as if remembering why they stood there.
Two other forensic analysts moved around them, collecting the markers surrounding the skeletal remains.
“I didn’t want to move the remains before you got here,” Dr. Harris said. “I’ve just been taking some pictures. But I am going to have to bring the remains back to the lab soon to do testing.”
“Any clue of the cause of death?” Warren asked as he and Tara moved closer. They kneeled in the sand, which was still damp with rain. The wetness seeped through Tara’s pants, and she could feel the coolness against her skin.
The bones were fully exposed and intact, the sand carefully pushed to each side. It had the looks of a grave dug into the dune.
Dr. Harris sighed. “I can’t tell you a whole lot until I get these remains into a lab. But I did see this.” She pointed to a small, V-shaped bone jutting just under the skull. Tara and Warren both leaned in closer and could see a small hair-line break. “Fractures like this are very rare, except for strangulation.”
“So you think she was strangled?” Tara asked.
Dr. Harris nodded. “It’s very likely.”
“Do you know if it’s Alyssa White?”
“I just got her dental records sent over. Once I’m in the lab, in a few hours I should know for sure.”
Tara turned to Warren. She could see his eyes already wandering down the beach to where the other body was discovered. She knew they both had the same thought, wondering if the other victim was also strangled. But it wasn’t just the crime scene that their eyes wandered toward—it was Sheriff Patel, who was headed that way in the distance, his body appearing smaller the farther he trudged. Both Tara and Warren agreed to follow, and after thanking Dr. Harris, they carefully walked off of the dunes and continued down the beach.
The sand had already begun to dry after the storm, making it difficult to walk through, and so they moved toward the edge of the beach, just before the water. Every once in a while, a wave would push the water farther up the beach than expected, causing Tara to step farther up onto the sand.
At first, Tara and Warren were silent, but Tara could sense that Warren was planning to speak. She wasn’t sure if it was something to do with the case or her visit to New York, but she feared it was the latter. He kept looking at her, as if giving her an opportunity to speak first. But when she didn’t, he opened his mouth.
“Did you get back from New York last night?” he finally asked.
Tara could feel her face begin to redden, but then she reminded herself that Warren already knew the majority of her history. She nodded.
“Everything all right? I was surprised to hear you were heading up there on such short notice.”
Tara was getting tired of the incessant questioning, and it only made her feel the need to be more guarded. She knew Warren was coming from a good place, but she didn’t like feeling pressured to speak about something she didn’t want to. Tara had always been a very private person—and with good reason. So many times as a child she had trusted a friend or an adult, she had allowed herself to be vulnerable—to tell them details of her past, of how it all made her feel. But then they would look at her differently, they would whisper to others, and she would feel the perception around her change.
She knew Warren wasn’t like that—he looked out for her, he never once treated her differently after learning her story. Yet she still didn’t like feeling pressured to open up, even if it was coming from a good place.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she finally said. She knew her tone sounded defensive—it was hard to hide. “I just had something to take care of,” she added, making her voice sound more at ease.
Warren remained quiet, looking up into the distance as they neared the next scene. He squinted as the sun peeked slightly through a break in the clouds. Tara knew he had to have detected her defensive tone, but his face didn’t show it. It remained relaxed, almost as if he were expecting that response. He finally nodded as they turned away from the water toward the sand dunes where the other victim lay.
“I’m glad to hear,” he finally responded. It was clear that Warren didn’t plan to pry any further. Even though he didn’t show it, Tara knew he had gotten the hint, and she wondered if she was maybe too defensive.
As they approached the scene, Sheriff Patel looked toward them. He was standing with another detective. Tara knew her conversation with Warren was now over, and she shifted her focus as well as they stepped over the fence lining the dunes and trudged up the hill once again.
Sheriff Patel and the other detective stood around a hole in the sand as they held their shirts over their noses. As Tara and Warren approached, it was evident why. A scent crashed onto them, like a wave of water. It entered Tara’s nose and mouth instantly, and she felt her stomach churn. She lifted her shirt too, holding it just over the tip of her nose. Warren did the same.
They stepped closer, and Tara stared down into the crater dug in the sand. She immediately felt lightheaded from the smell and looks of the girl. Her body was a greenish blue from the early stages of decomposition, but Tara could still tell that she was clearly young—a teenager. She could tell by the small curve of her hips—a girl becoming a woman—and from the smoothness of her skin that at even at this stage of decomposition revealed her youth. She wore jean shorts ripped at the edges, a fitted black tank top, and white Converse sneakers that were caked in wet sand.
“How’d you find her?” Tara finally asked. The body must’ve been buried more than five feet underground.
“A cadaver dog,” Patel replied.
Tara nodded.
“Who was the last to see her?” Warren asked as he crouched down, taking a closer look at the body, and Tara did the same.
“Like I said, the last time she was seen was at work. She lives about a quarter mile from there and walked home after her shift. Her boss was the last to see her.”
As Patel spoke, Tara and Warren stared into the gaping hole on their hands and knees, still holding their shirts above their noses. The girl’s decomposing face was still wincing with pain, and Tara felt a tug on her heart.
Warren reached a hand forward and waved it just below the girl’s chin as he looked toward Tara. She could see what he was gesturing at. Just below the girl’s chin, the center of her neck was even more purplish-blue, spreading from a clear string-sized center.
“Looks like strangulation,” Tara admitted as she finally stood up, trying to get a break from the smell.
Warren stood up as well. “Looks like it wasn’t done by a hand either.”
He was insinuating that it was a smaller, ligature-like object; string or wire was what Tara assumed.
“That’s what we thought too,” Patel replied as he looked to the other detective, who then shook his head.
The other detective looked in his mid-forties, but he was fit like a college athlete. The short sleeves of his uniform hugged his arms tightly. Patel quickly introduced Detective Wade.
“You can see similar marks around her wrists,” he finally added as he bent down and gestured toward them.
Tara took a closer look and could see similar string-like marks just above her hands. They were less bruised than her neck, but it was clear that they were the marks of ligatures from being tied up. Whoever had taken this girl, whoever had killed her, clearly didn’t do so right away. They had tied her up, probably kept her alive for some time before strangling her. But why?
“Any way to know if it was sexually motivated?” Tara asked.
Detective Wade shook his head. “We’ll have to wait until forensics reviews the body in the lab.”
Tara nodded. She knew the statistics. Strangulation was firmly associated with sexually motivated murders, especially in young female victims. The absence of such was rare. And even more rare was strangulation by ligature, but they would have to wait until the body was in the lab for forensics to get an idea of what the actual murder weapon was.
“And no one saw anything?” Warren asked.
It was a question both of them had. It seemed odd that on such a popular beach, with houses not too far from where the bodies were found, no one had seen someone dragging a body.
Detective Wade shook his head. “We spent all this morning going door to door. We didn’t get any leads.”
“Whoever it was was a careful planner. They must’ve come in the dead of night,” Patel added.
Tara looked around her. It was certainly possible not to be seen. The houses were far enough back that someone could easily be hidden among the beach grass and curvature of the dunes. Plus, in the middle of the night, when everyone would be asleep, it was even more likely.
“Did you speak to family yet?” Tara asked.
“Not yet.” Patel shook his head. “We just told them about the news a few hours ago. They were of course really shaken up. We wanted to give them a bit of time.”
Tara certainly understood, but she also knew that they could hold some answers about their daughter’s last few days that would be crucial in finding her killer. She hated having to interview family. It was always so delicate, and it was always difficult to watch someone in so much pain, especially since she understood it so well. However, she knew that the only way to help them now would be to get justice.
“What about her place of work?” Warren asked.
Wade nodded. “When she went missing, but we couldn’t get any leads there either.”
Tara turned to Warren. “Start with the family?”
Warren nodded, before thanking the sheriff and Detective Wade. Tara followed him as he turned to the car. They both didn’t want to waste another moment.