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Five

Madison left the shed and went to the back gate.

“You sure you don’t want Cynthia and Mark back here first?” Terry called from behind her. “And you do realize even if Doe came this way, the chances of finding any proof—”

Madison held up her hand. “A little positivity would be nice.”

“Who are you?”

She often wondered about that herself lately. She was teetering on the edge of obsession when it came to Troy and the lack of a proposal. She hadn’t second-guessed her ability to read people since her ex-fiancé had broken her trust and slept with another woman over ten years ago.

She reached the gate, and it was open wide enough to pass through. She stepped onto a gravel driveway. It was banked by more cedar trees and scraggly bushes and ended at the sidewalk on Burnham Street. A uniformed officer was posted there, guarding the rear entrance to the property.

He dipped his head at them. She’d never seen him before.

She proceeded to walk carefully, cognizant of her footsteps, and stopped when she saw something in a section of dirt, clear of pebbles. A pointed toe. Small indentation for a heel. Doe’s boot prints?

She glanced overhead. Large pine trees sheltered this section. Branches and foliage must have been enough to block the rain and preserve the prints. She placed her foot, suspended, next to the print. “I’d say size nine.” She thought back to the woman, but she hadn’t paid much attention to her feet except to notice she was wearing boots. “The direction shows the person going toward the gate. I’d wager Jane Doe came through here.”

“You wanna make a bet?” Terry smiled at her.

They often made bets on the outcome or aspects of a case, and she was normally game, but she wasn’t feeling like it today. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’ll pass.”

“And you do realize those prints could have been left by anyone. Maybe Mrs. Bernstein.”

She shook her head and resumed scanning the ground. Sometimes it felt like her partner disagreed with her just for the sake of disagreeing.

“Oh. Look.” She indicated her next find—little burgundy droplets.

Terry came up next to her, careful of his footing, too, and inspected them for himself. “Could be blood,” he said.

“Could be? I think it’s a sure thing. We need Crime Scene back here pronto.”

Terry took off to notify Cynthia and Mark, and Madison gestured for the officer’s attention. “In case we’re gone before Crime Scene gets here,” she started.

“Yes, ma’am?” He started walking toward her. She held up a hand.

“It’s Detective, and be careful of your steps. I believe Jane Doe passed through here. But I need you to point out the print here—” Madison swirled the tip of her shoe over where it was “—and also, there appear to be blood droplets.” She indicated those with her finger.

“I’ll be sure to let the investigators know, ma—Detective.”

She read his name tag. Harrison. He must have been a rookie. She sauntered slowly toward the sidewalk, scanning every inch as she went. She kept returning her gaze to the bushes. She’d manifest the murder weapon if she could, but the shrubbery wasn’t giving up any secrets.

“Cynthia and Mark will be out shortly,” Terry called from behind her. “They asked that we vamoose.”

“They? I doubt Mark said that.”

“Cynthia.”

“That I believe.” She started down the sidewalk, heading west toward downtown.

“Where are we going?” Terry caught up and kept pace with her.

“We’re going to find out where she was stabbed.”

“Based on your gut?”

“You know it.”

“Come on, be real here, Maddy. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you just wanted to go for a walk.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking…” She ignored his jab. So what? She wasn’t a fan of exercise; a lot of people weren’t. “She was stabbed three times. Why stop there?”

“Ah…” Terry snapped his jaw shut. “No idea.”

“I think it’s possible her would-be killer got spooked or was interrupted and ran. And that tells me—”

“Jane Doe was attacked someplace public where other people could have come along.”

“Uh-huh. Richards figured she died anywhere between nine last night and two this morning, and it’s unlikely she could have walked too far with her injuries.”

“She was probably attacked just down the street. Maybe near one of the bars or restaurants.”

“That’s how I see it.”

“Okay, then, that takes us back to why she didn’t seek help. And if there was an eyewitness or more, where are they now?”

She stopped walking, considered Terry’s questions.

“Gotcha stumped?” He smiled.

“A little, yeah. But,” she said, “just because the attacker got spooked doesn’t mean someone was there. Could have just been a noise—” Her mind returned to Mrs. Bernstein’s statement about waking up in the early hours and hearing something outside.

“Maddy?” Terry prompted.

“Rhea Bernstein told us that she heard a thump about one in the morning.”

“So?”

“So I just assumed it was Doe closing the shed door or even nothing of importance, but what if Doe did seek help from the Bernsteins, and the thump Rhea heard had actually been Doe knocking on one of their doors?”

“Okay, but…” Terry let that dangle. “If Doe was attacked where people could potentially be around, you’re telling me she never sought out their help? Or that no one saw her? That she walked to the Bernsteins with intention?”

“It’s almost starting to seem like it. But that also brings to my attention that someone—homeowners even—along Burnham Street might have seen a woman hobbling along the sidewalk. But you also know what people can be like. They don’t want to get involved and are fearful for their own safety. And as I had mentioned earlier, Doe wouldn’t have been in a rational state of mind. She could have appeared intimidating.”

“I get all that, but it’s also possible Doe had a hard time finding help. People would have still been in the bars drinking. Assuming the thump Mrs. Bernstein heard about one in the morning is related to Doe.”

“Yep, and that would leave the parking lots rather empty of people, as well as the alleyways that run between the bars and restaurants and behind, if I remember right.” She resumed walking until she came to a public parking lot.

“What are you doing?”

“Assuming Doe had a vehicle and drove herself down here, she could have parked here.” She waved a hand at a city sign that indicated no parking on either side of Burnham Street.

“And how do you intend to…” Terry’s eyes skimmed the packed lot. It was going on four in the afternoon, and people were already venturing to the area for meals and drinks.

The sun winked off the windshields and had her reaching into her jacket pocket for her sunglasses. She came out empty-handed, but no surprise. She had a hard time hanging on to shades.

Terry had his on when she looked over at him.

She started, “We search the lot, see if—”

“One of the vehicles jumps out and says, ‘I belong to a dead woman.’”

“Very funny.”

“Jeez. Lighten up. What’s wrong with you? It’s Saturday, and if one of us would normally be griping about working—”

“My mood has nothing to do with working.” She regretted the admission immediately. There was no way she was going to get into the tension in her relationship with Troy.

“Then, what?”

Terry had told her before that she was known to pry, but he was a pro himself. “We have a case to solve. Let’s focus on that.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “If she was accosted in the parking lot, to me that supports the possibility that she was mugged. Think about it, she was about to get into her vehicle and her attacker confronts her. Maybe he or she left because they simply got what they wanted—her purse, phone, possibly jewelry.”

“Okay, I can get behind that theory. But let’s see if we can prove it.”

He held eye contact, and it drilled in how different she was acting today, certainly not her usual self. Terry was typically the one telling her they needed proof.

“Actually…” Terry groaned. “If her attacker came at her when she was at her vehicle, they might have stolen it too. Then we’ll have nothing to find.”

She didn’t want to entertain the idea, but it was possible. It could also explain why Doe was left to get away on foot—not that she would have been in any shape to drive. “Let’s just spread out.” She looked over the lot and noticed there were flyers stuck under the wipers of several vehicles. She snatched one. For some band playing that night at Luck of the Irish pub, which was the bar just next door. But it gave her an idea. “If Doe parked here, and assuming no one stole her vehicle—” she shot a seething look at Terry “—she would likely have a parking ticket on her hood. You go that way, and I’ll start here.”

Terry did as she asked, and she began with the row closest to her. After a few lanes, she was about to give up when she spotted a small slip stuck under the wiper of an older, gray sedan. She tore it off and yelled, “Jackpot!”

He whistled at the ticket. “Fifty bucks. Ouch.”

She was more interested in the time stamps than the fine. “Doe—”

“You’re assuming.”

“Doe,” she repeated, “parked here at eight last night and paid for four hours.”

Terry bobbed his head side to side. “Lines up with the time-of-death window. Could be her car.”

“I’d say it’s a good bet—”

“Then—”

“No,” she shot him down again. She wasn’t in the mood to make wagers on the case. She was in the mood for answers, though. She pulled out her phone and called Higgins.

“Hey-lo,” he answered.

“It’s Madison, but I’m going to guess you knew that.”

“Caller ID was a nifty invention.”

“I need you to do something quick for me.”

“Name it.”

“Need you to run a plate number…” She gave him the tag.

“One second.” The clicking of keys, then, “It’s registered to a Chantelle Carson. Age forty-eight— Oh yeah, that’s Jane Doe all right. I have her license photo in front of me. Blond, shoulder-length, gray eyes, round face, five eight. Where did you see the plate?”

“Her car’s in the public lot on Burnham Street, just east of the bars and restaurants.”

“I assume you had a good reason to be curious?”

“Taught by the best.”

“Impressive.”

She beamed and nodded at Terry. “We have her,” she said to him. To Higgins, “Her next of kin? Address?” She put him on speaker for Terry’s benefit. No one else was around.

“I’ll shoot it all over to you,” Higgins told her.

“Great. And if you could also get an officer over here to watch the car until it’s processed and brought in?”

“You know it.”

“And please let Richards know Doe’s identity,” she added.

“Absolutely.”

With that, she hung up and smirked at Terry. “Turns out it was a good thing we went for a walk.”

“I hate it when you brag.”