“Okay,” her daughter said, shooting Zach a smile and disappearing into the house.
“A shame,” the woman said, shaking her head, the look on her face suddenly serious.
“What’s that, ma’am?”
“Their divorce. I knew they’d had ups and downs, but I thought they were doing really well these last couple of years.” She shifted the bag in her arms. “Their
older daughter got engaged, the younger one attends college out of state. They were out on the porch some nights having cocktails. I thought they were in a good season of life, you know?” She sighed. “I guess you never can tell what’s going on inside someone’s home unless you’re in it. Do you have children, Detective?”
Zach was taken aback for a second by the seeming change in topic. “Uh, no. Not married.”
The woman smiled warmly. “Well, once you do, you’ll see that family life is full of all sorts of complications, unexpected challenges.” She frowned again. “You have to work to grow together, not apart.” She shot what looked like a disappointed look at what had once been the Merrick family home and was now an abandoned shell, not unlike their broken family, or so it sounded like.
“Mom, are you coming?” her daughter yelled from her porch again.
The older woman waved at her, looking back to Zach and laughing softly as she rolled her eyes. “I’m being summoned. I have their forwarding information, so let me run inside and get it for you.”
“That’d be great, thank you.” He watched as the woman jogged up her front steps, saying something that made her daughter laugh as she thrust the bags at her jokingly. Zach smiled. He liked this neighbor of the Merricks. Maybe it was her warm smile, or maybe he identified with what little he’d seen of this family. He’d been adopted too, knew what it was like to be the odd man out among a gaggle of blondes and redheads. His parents and siblings, who he loved dearly, had never made him feel that way, but he’d been a kid like any other kid. He’d struggled through that uncertain time when differences feel like strikes against you rather than assets.
Even standing there in the driveway, he could feel the affection these people had for each other, and it reminded him of his own family. A wave of gratitude filtered through him when he pictured Josie’s mother’s house. He didn’t know a lot about his birth mother’s situation, other than she was young and impoverished. He didn’t know if he’d have grown up in a circumstance like Josie’s, but he knew for sure he’d have had less opportunity. He was grateful to everyone involved in gifting him with his life, including the woman who’d birthed him and made the loving choice to give him up.
The blonde woman jogged back down the steps, holding a piece of paper out to him. “I’m Dawn Parsons, by the way.” She smiled. “I jotted my number down on there as well if you happen to need anything else.” She shrugged.
“I appreciate that very much. Thank you for your time, ma’am.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he gave Dawn a wave as he turned toward his car, connecting the call.
“Copeland.”
Zach listened, a pit in his stomach gaping wide as he gripped the door handle, pulling it open harshly. “I’ll be there in ten.”
As he pulled away from the curb, his head swam. Holy Christ. What the fuck did this mean?
**********
“Who found the body?”
“Neighbor,” the cop who’d first arrived on scene said. “Said she comes over to sit on the porch and have a smoke some nights with the deceased. There was no answer tonight, but when she tried the door, it was unlocked. She came in, found the old lady splayed out in the living room.”
So she’d been expecting someone. Had she unknowingly called come on in to a sadistic killer when he’d knocked on her door? He nodded toward the house where the dead, mutilated body that had been described to him still lay prone on the floor. Josie’s mother.
“Thanks,” Zach said, seeing the first criminalist arriving and donning gloves he’d had in his car. “Will you tell the neighbor to stay put? I’m going to need to interview her before I leave.”
“Will do.”
Zach waited for the criminalist, a guy named Barry, who he’d worked with a time or two, and they both put booties over their shoes before entering the house together. The house smelled the same as it had that morning, only now there was the additional scent of burned flesh. Other than the body on the floor, things looked about the same as they had earlier. No signs of struggle. Nothing out of place other than a TV remote on the floor, batteries next to it as though it’d been dropped. He came up next to the body as Barry began opening his kit. “Jesus,” he murmured.
“Not a pretty sight,” Barry agreed. He picked up his camera and began taking photographs of the body from different angles.
The woman who Zach had met that morning was staring blindly up at the ceiling, tongue lolling, eyes bugged out, tiny circular burns over every area of her face. It appeared that someone had used a cigarette to burn her flesh. “Pre- or postmortem?” Zach asked, pointing at her scarred face.
Barry lowered the camera, considering the woman. “See the blood on that one by her eye? And the pus on a few of the burns on her cheeks? Indicates she was alive when burned.”
Christ.
Zach hadn’t entertained nice thoughts about this woman, but no one deserved to die this way.
“She must have screamed,” he murmured.