Killer Heat. Brenda Novak
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attended the academy together.”
Jonah had been careful to keep from being overheard but Finch hadn’t. Francesca Moretti glanced at them over the rim of her coffee cup. Then she lowered it and any question that he could be mistaken about her identity disappeared. Even with her long dark hair mussed, her mascara smeared and her top lip swollen to almost twice its normal size, there was no mistaking the amber-colored eyes that riveted on his—or the contempt that instantly settled over her classic Italian features when she recognized him.
“Oh, boy. Doesn’t look as if she likes you,” Finch said, and skirted past him.
Jonah reluctantly followed. Francesca didn’t like him. And he’d given her good reason. But that was ten years ago. Surely they could put the past behind them now. She seemed to have gotten over him fairly easily, had never returned his calls when he’d attempted to apologize. And from what Finch said, there could be some connection between the missing teacher she’d been searching for and the murders they were hoping to solve. Figuring out who’d killed the women dug up in Dead Mule Canyon mattered more than his personal discomfort. Jonah had never been involved in a case so disturbing.
The investigator gestured toward him. “Ms. Moretti, you might remember—”
“Jonah Young,” she finished, never taking her gaze off him.
Finch hurried on. “Yes. I’m not aware of how familiar you two are with each other since the academy, but these days Jonah works for Department 6, a private security firm out of Los Angeles. They contract with individuals, companies, even different police entities, to consult on or assist with various hard-to-solve cases. I’ve asked him to—”
Her focus still on Jonah, she interrupted again. “I knew you weren’t with Phoenix P.D. anymore, or we would’ve run into each other. I thought maybe you’d been kicked off the force.”
Sure, he’d screwed up all his personal relationships during the short period during which they’d known each other, but he’d never even come close to losing his job. Ever since he was a little boy, he’d wanted to be a detective, and heading up investigations via the private sector was a better deal all around. With Department 6, he faced similar challenges, but he had more freedom and a much bigger paycheck—the best of both worlds.
“Sorry to disappoint you. They promoted me to detective within a year after you left. It was my choice to move on,” he said, but as he made his point, he wished he didn’t sound so damned defensive.
“Yeah, well, I’d accuse you of sleeping your way to the top, but the people above you were all men, and I know very well how much you like the ladies.”
Obviously uncomfortable with the way the meeting was deteriorating, Finch cleared his throat. “Look, I realize there’s some bad blood here. I don’t know what it’s all about, but I don’t need to know. I called Jonah in because I think the case he’s working on might be related to the man who just attacked you. Seeing as we have a big problem, more than one, and very few leads, it’s certainly worth investigating. Maybe this’ll be the break we need.”
At last, she pulled her attention from Jonah. “What are you talking about? Tell me he’s not searching for April Bonner. She lives in Maricopa County. That’s out of your jurisdiction.”
“We haven’t hired him to look for your missing person,” Finch said. “He’s on a much bigger case.”
Lines appeared on her otherwise smooth forehead. “Than murder? I told you, I just found April’s body!”
“And Investigator Hunsacker is out there checking into it.”
“Why aren’t we with him?” she asked. “Her body’s not easy to find, but I can show you where it is.”
“You were shaken up when you got here. I didn’t want to put you through it. Besides, Hunsacker will manage or he’ll call us, and I can drive you out there. This is important.” With his broad back to the opening of his cubicle, Finch began to whisper. “I’ve asked Jonah to speak with you regarding a burial site discovered by a hiker and his dog two weeks ago.”
“A burial site,” she echoed.
The investigator frowned. “It contains the remains of seven women. There may be even more. We’re still looking.”
Francesca’s jaw dropped and, at least for the moment, Jonah got the impression she’d forgotten her resentment toward him. “I heard about that on the news, but it was reported as some ancient Indian burial ground. It’s in Dead Mule Canyon, near that small town—Skull Valley.”
“That’s right. We haven’t corrected that report because…well, because we don’t want to throw the community into a panic until we know what we’re dealing with and can offer some information.”
And they preferred to escape the overwhelming pressure that would go with a public outcry. Jonah guessed that was as close to the truth as anything. No police department announced that they had a serial killer on their hands if they could help it. Many did everything they could to hide the fact, hoping the perpetrator would eventually move out of their jurisdiction. But there was no need to explain this. Francesca had worked in law enforcement long enough to understand the dynamics.
“And when the site was discovered, there was some question as to the age of those bones,” Finch added.
“What’s changed?” she asked.
“It’s since been determined that they’re—” he lowered his voice even further “—recent.”
For the first time, her implacable facade cracked, revealing a hint of vulnerability. “How recent?”
“A couple are as old as five years,” Jonah replied. “The other women have only been dead for a few months.”
Leaning forward, she set her coffee cup on Investigator Finch’s desk. “Are you telling me you think the man who just attacked me might’ve already murdered seven women?”
Jonah wasn’t absolutely convinced of that. What were the odds she’d be able to escape a violent psychopath when she’d encountered him on his own turf? What this guy had done to his victims proved he was utterly ruthless. But if there was one thing police work had taught him, it was to keep an open mind. “It’s a possibility,” he conceded. “Somebody murdered them.”
“Oh, God.” She jumped to her feet, turned to Finch. “And you’re not letting the public know to be cautious? To avoid strangers? Not to take risks?”
Jonah stood in the opening behind Finch while the shorter, stockier man tried to quiet her. “Keep your voice down! We don’t want to disseminate the information prematurely. We could tell pretty quickly that it wasn’t an old Indian burial ground, but we weren’t sure exactly what it was until we got a forensic anthropologist in here. We’ve set her up in the old community center and given Jonah an office there, too, but that kind of work doesn’t go fast, not with such an extensive site.”
“But—”
“We just got her initial report last night,” he went on, refusing to be interrupted. “We were planning to release a statement this afternoon, but then you arrived. Now I figure we might as well wait and see what Hunsacker finds at the salvage yard. Maybe this guy who attacked you, this Butch Vaughn, is our man.”
Having a suspect would certainly go far toward mollifying the public. But Jonah didn’t point that out, either.
Francesca smoothed her skirt. Dirty and wrinkled, it hit her just above the knees, showing calves as tanned and toned as they’d been when he knew her before. The only difference was the abrasions on her knees.
“That would explain why April was still in the yard,” she said. “Maybe, since the discovery of those bodies, Vaughn’s been forced to find a new place to dispose of his victims and hasn’t come up with a location he’s comfortable with.”
Jonah shoved away from