The body was still on the pavement when they arrived. It was a male, twenty-nine years old, by the name of Troy Hetfield. His face was in much worse shape than the small bit of blood on it suggested. The bridge of his nose had been broken and it almost looked as if that portion of his head had tried to collapse in on itself.
A deputy with the police was on the scene with about eight others. Forensics had already arrived, kneeling by the body and doing their work under the glow of headlights and a few portable halogen lamps. The deputy stood with Rachel and Jack while forensics did their work. He looked to be a bit older than fifty, with the beginnings of a beer gut and a deeply receding hairline.
“The body was discovered by another concertgoer,” the deputy said. “We think the body was found very soon after the attack because the witness said the blood was still coming from the wound in above the nose.”
“And this person saw no one else out here?” Jack asked.
“No,” the deputy said. “But they did say there were still cars coming out of the parking garage over there. There was a concert here tonight, a pretty big local cover band. We were able to confirm with the band that the deceased had special backstage passes. Some sort of special privilege because of some bad news the guy had been dealt recently.”
“Is that how it was discovered the victim had been diagnosed with liver disease?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah, as far as I can tell.”
Now that they had a name, Rachel pulled her phone out and navigated to the Life Fulfilled waiting list. As she suspected, Troy Hetfield was indeed listed there. The odd thing, though, was that he was the very last name on the list. Based on the scant information provided by the list, he’d only been added a few days ago.
“There are security measures in place at the doors, correct?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” the deputy said. “And we’ve already spoken to the head of security. He allowed us to have a look at the night’s logs. Nine hundred and eleven people attended the show tonight and only four were turned away out of refusal to pass through metal detectors at the door.”
“What about backstage?” Rachel asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” the deputy replied. “Even those with backstage passes have to be admitted through the front gates.”
“Any security footage?” Rachel asked.
“Not from back here. There are eight different camera in the club and two right there up front at the gates. But there are none back here. I’m told it’s something of a controversial measure so that the bands aren’t easily ensnared in illegal activities like drugs and things like that. Seems ass backwards to me, but…”
He shrugged, as if that was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned.
Rachel stepped closer to the body. Of the two forensics officers, only one was still kneeling down by the body. The other was standing and typing something into a smart pad.
“Anything of note?” Rachel asked.
“He was attacked from the front for sure,” the kneeling man said. “I can see at least two different attacks, one right there, above the left brow, and the other, stronger one, right between the eyes. In terms of any physical evidence for you, I’m afraid there’s nothing.”
Rachel nodded, taking another look at the body. A young man, just a few years younger than her, already dealing with terrible news…and here he was, dead, because someone else had decided to take whatever time he had left away from him. She was sad about having left Paige again, and the conversation she’d had with Grandma Tate before she’d left the house had been tense, but looking down at Troy Hetfield assured her that she’d made the right choice. She was going to catch this bastard if it was the last thing she did.
She and Jack stepped slightly away from the forensics team and the deputy. A chill crept its way through Rachel as she tried to keep a lid on her anger.
“I think it’s now safe to say that with this Life Fulfilled waitlist, we also have the kill-list,” she said.
“Agreed,” Jack said. “But there’s no order to follow. I mean, Jesus, this guy was just added a few days ago. How did the killer know?”
“Seems like something we need to find out,” Rachel said. “We have a list of people he may be looking for, but no MO yet. No evidence, no leads.”
“We need to speak to this guy’s family,” Jack said. “I know it’s going to be tough because they just found out, but—”
“Let’s go, then,” she said. “If they’ve also been struggling with the news of his diagnosis, I think you’ll find that the strength and resolve of these people is going to be more than you’re expecting.”
He gave her a strange look; she couldn’t decide if it was one of irritation or resolve. In the final few hours of dark, she decided she didn’t care. She just wanted to get to the family and figure out what sort of person might have wanted to kill Troy Hetfield. She knew far too well how precious time was and she did not intend to waste a single second.