Sitting at her desk, Kate picked up the phone for the third time in less than a minute, then finally worked up the courage to dial the number she’d written down.
“Hey, Sheriff Ramsay. My name’s Kate Murphy. I’m the daughter of Steve and Jocelyn Murphy.”
Silence filled the air for a few seconds, then the man spoke up.
“Oh dear. I remember you. I’m so sorry we never tracked down the killer.”
“Actually, that’s what I’m calling about, Sheriff. I’m now a homicide detective with the Boston PD.”
“Oh! Congrats on that!”
“Thanks.”
“I saw on the news. You guys seem to have your hands full these days. Are you involved with that investigation?”
“I am.”
“I hope you find him fast.”
“Yeah. You and me both. We don’t have much to go on, but listen, I’m not calling to discuss that.”
“Obviously,” he said, even though Kate wondered what was so obvious about it. Perhaps just a pattern of speech.
“I’m calling about my family’s case.”
“What about it?”
“My partner—” hearing her own word to refer to Luke made her realize how odd it sounded “—convinced me to look at the case files. He seems to think that, with what I know now, and perhaps with a bit of luck, I may be able to find something. Now, I’m not saying you weren’t thorough with the case back then. Far from it—”
“I understand. No need to apologize or explain why you’d want to have a look. I’ve got nothing to hide. As a fellow law enforcement officer, you’re more than welcome to look at our case files.”
“How would I go about that?” Kate asked.
“It’s been a cold case for nearly two decades. We got very little room here, so the files were moved to a secure facility out of town.”
“Any chance you can hook me up with the address and permission form so I could go and access those files?”
“I can take care of that. No problem. Why don’t you give me your badge number, phone number, and email? I’ll see what I can arrange.”
Kate provided all the information he needed, then added, “It most likely won’t happen until we find our serial killer here, but I thought I’d touch base and get the ball rolling sooner rather than later.”
“I get it. Those homicide scenes really mess up one’s mind, don’t they? I still think of your parents nearly every day. I never really got over their case, you know? Their bodies—”
“Sheriff,” Kate interrupted. “Can I ask one question about the case?”
“Shoot.”
“How would you describe the stab wounds on each of my parents?”
Quite a few seconds passed, then a loud exhalation reached Kate’s ears. The sheriff cleared his throat.
“Your dad wasn’t stabbed. His throat was slit. That takes a lot of work, or knowledge, to do right.”
“And my mom?” Kate prompted.
“She was stabbed. Multiple times in the chest. Her throat was slit as well, but nothing like your dad’s. I don’t know why, but I’m sorry for describing it to you like that. It was horrible. And you poor thing found them like that. I’m amazed that the sight of those wounds didn’t ingrain itself in your mind forever.”
“The mind is a funny thing. I think it filled in some blanks for me over time. I really gotta go, but thanks again for your help, and I’ll be in touch.”
“Hope you catch your killer soon.”