Chapter eighteen. I'm Detective Chase

" I'm Detective Chase. This is Detective McCoy, " Rick said, introducing them to the chief of the airport police. " My lieutenant spoke with you yesterday."

The older man looked up, peering at them over his glasses. " Oh, yeah. Gregory. Come in."

Jake looked around, impressed. Their offices were top-notch. New, flat-panel monitors sat on every desk, unlike her own squad room. They must have a hell of a budget. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her slacks and waited while he shuffled through files on his desk. Rick was impatiently tapping his index fingers together.

" Here you go." He handed the file to Rick without even a glance at Jake. " That's our field work and investigation. I sent the initial ME's report over to your lieutenant. I'm sure it'll be a few days before they get it all worked up."

" Yes, we have the initial report. Thank you."

Jake cleared her throat. " I'd like to see the crime scene."

" Oh, we've gone over it, detective. It's clean. She was just dropped there."

" I'd still like to see it." She gave what she hoped was a genuine smile. " It gives us more of a... a feel for the case."

" If you don't mind, of course, " Rick added quickly.

" No, I don't mind. I think it's just a waste of time, is all. I'll have one of my officers take you out there."

" Thanks very much, " Jake said, extending her hand. He took it briefly, not bothering to meet her eyes. Asshole. Probably a retired sheriff from some small town in the plains, she guessed.

They followed Officer Whitten outside, and Rick nudged Jake with his elbow. " Play nice, " he whispered.

" I hate men."

" I know that."

Officer Whitten politely held open the back door for Jake, and she scowled at Rick, who hopped into the front seat.

" Were you out at the scene when they found her? " Rick asked.

" Oh, yeah. We all were."

" Lovely, " Jake murmured. She imagined the entire airport police force traipsing over the scene.

She and Rick looked at each other when he stopped. They were a good distance from the main runways, following the outer loop road. But still, they appeared to be nowhere special.

" This is it, " he finally said when neither she nor Rick moved.

" Where's the crime scene tape? " Jake asked.

" Oh, we took it down."

" But, you had the crime lab out here, right? " Rick asked.

" No. The ME's office took pictures. We did, too. But there was nothing here. She was just dumped here. She was totally nude. There wasn't even a hairclip."

Jake got out, slamming her door with as much force as she could muster. Idiots. " You looked for tire prints, right? "

" Tire prints? "

" So you're saying the scene's been contaminated? " Rick asked.

" You didn't take tire prints? Footprints? You didn't have the crime lab out? People have been walking all over the place? "

" Hey man, she was just dumped here. There wasn't even any blood. I don't believe there were any tire prints or footprints. My captain said to take the tape down as soon as they moved her body."

Jake walked away from the road, seeing the matted grass, the numerous footprints. Jesus. She shook her head. Any evidence that had been here was long gone.

" How could someone get out here? " she asked.

" What do you mean? "

Jake flicked her eyes at Rick. " I mean, how could someone, a civilian, get out here to dump the body? This area is secured, right? "

" Oh, yeah. Airport personnel only."

" So, if we're to believe that, an airport employee dumped the body. Right? "

" Well, I suppose."

" Any video surveillance out here? " Rick asked.

" No. Not out here. There's nothing this far out."

" You've checked the fence line, made sure there wasn't a breach there? "

" Well, yeah. Right around here."

" How about we check the entire perimeter? " Jake suggested.

" Now? "

She shrugged. " We've got time. You got time? "

" I guess. Let me call the chief."

" Yeah, you do that, " she murmured.

" Play nice, " Rick said again as they got back in the car.

Jake's leg was aching when they returned to the station, and she struggled not to limp. The chief had approved their request to search the perimeter fence. On foot. So she, Rick, and Officer Whitten walked the entire goddamn length of fence, finding two gaps. Only one was close enough to have dragged a body. The other was on the opposite side of the airport.

They called the crime lab out before airport security could trample the scene.

" You look beat, " Rick said.

" I'm okay."

" If you're in pain, you need to tell me. There's no sense in..."

" Rick, I'm okay, " she insisted.

Their lieutenant walked over, file in hand. " Got a name on your vic. Sandra Poole. It's not very pretty, " he said, handing Jake the file. " Find anything at the airport? "

" Broken fence, if you can believe that. Two spots. The FAA is going to have a field day, " Rick said.

" This woman was battered, " Jake said, reading the file. " Raped and beaten by her husband."

" Three years ago. And we already checked. He's still locked up tight."

" We're hoping the crime lab might find something at the fence. Where they found the body, the scene's been contaminated. No way we can get anything there, " Rick told him.

" She's got a grown daughter. Lives in Littleton." Jake looked up from the file. " Maybe Sandra Poole had a new boyfriend. Battered women tend to pick the same losers."

" Check her out. I'll let you know if they turn up anything at the airport."

She could feel Rick watching her, and she glared at him. " Rick, I'm fine. The leg's a little sore, that's all."

" Too much walking? "

" Yeah. It's been a long day."

" Well, it's already three. You want to hit Littleton tomorrow? "

" Let's run a check on the daughter, see where she works. I doubt she's going to be home at three in the afternoon."

" Okay. I'll do it."

" Where's the file on the first vic? You got it in the computer yet? "

Rick snorted. " Yeah, right. That was always your job."

She held her hand out. " Give it to me."

Jake spent the next half hour going over the file and the short version of the ME's report while Rick was on the phone. Three years ago, Helen Thornton was hospitalized for over a week. She pulled up medical records on the computer, frowning as she read.

" What? "

" The first victim, same thing."

" What are you talking about? "

Jake showed him the report. " Three years ago, she was in the hospital. I pulled up medical, she'd been raped and beaten by her husband."

" Got to be a coincidence. I mean, come on. Unless these women knew each other."

" Doubtful. Helen Thornton lived in an apartment east of downtown. Sandra Poole was suburbs. Don't see a connection." Jake scanned the file. " And different hospitals."

" Okay. The daughter works for a real estate agency in Littleton. We'll check her out in the morning."

Jake stared at the file. " Both raped and strangled, " she murmured, shaking her head. " Can't be a coincidence. And where's the complete ME's report? " she asked, shuffling through the papers.

" I guess I haven't gotten it yet."

" Have you asked? "

" That was normally your job, too." Rick leaned back in his chair and smiled. " Glad you're back, McCoy. I'd hate to have this case, just me and the lieutenant."

" Has he been your backup? "

" Hell, yeah. I mean, I like him fine, but..."

" He's not me? "

" He's so fucking by the book, it's scary."

Jake laughed. " Guess that's why he's made lieutenant."

" You want to go get a beer? "

" Are you trying to piss Michele off or what? "

" No, I just missed hanging out with you. You've been gone nearly three months, Jake."

" Well, thanks. But I'm going to head home. Cheyenne will be waiting."

" I swear. You treat that dog like she's your kid."

Jake raised an eyebrow. " What's your point? "

" My point is, she's a dog. She's not going to know if you're late. I don't think they can tell time, Jake."

" Of course they can tell time."

" Come on. One beer."

Jake leaned forward and smiled. " Ricky, we both know that Michele only tolerates me. Why do you want to piss her off by going out for a beer with me? "

" Jake, maybe I need... to talk."

Jake sighed. " What's going on? "

Rick shrugged. " Divorce rate on the force is seventy-five percent. That's what's going on."

" Are you kidding me? You and Michele? "

" Can we get out of here, please? "

She nodded. " Okay. Sure."