Cold Truth by Mariah Stewart Page B

Cass. “Take a shot of this for me before I remove it.”
    Cass leaned forward to line up the shot as she was directed. Tasha slipped the thread into a bag, which she sealed and marked. She looked at Cass and said, “I found some similar trace tangled in the hair of our first victim.”
    “The same type of fiber? Blanket? Carpet?”
    “Too long to be either. It’s long and thin.”
    “Rope, maybe? Something he might have used to tie them up with, subdue them?” Cass’s mind started to consider different possibilities.
    “Nooo,” Tasha said slowly. She held the bag up as if inspecting its contents. “I don’t think it’s rope, it’s not that substantial. It looks thinner, more delicate. I can’t wait to get back to the lab to check it out.”
    “Did you analyze the fiber you found on Linda Roman?”
    “Not yet. I was concentrating on the trace from under her fingernails, trying to find skin cells, something that would give me DNA. The fiber is still in the evidence box, but I think it just moved to the top of the list.”
    “You’ll let me know?”
    “Do I get a set of those prints?” Tasha nodded at the camera Cass held in her right hand.
    “I’ll run them off as soon as I get back to the office.”
    “Then you’ll be the first to know what the little fibers are.”
     
    “Chief, there are reporters from four television stations and nine newspapers in the lobby,” Phyllis announced through the intercom.
    “Yes, I know,” Denver replied. “I haven’t decided what I want to tell them.”
    “May I come in there for a moment?” Her voice sounded shaky.
    “Sure,” he said, somewhat taken aback. Normally sure and confident, it wasn’t like Phyl to be so hesitant.
    The intercom clicked off and seconds later the door between the chief’s office and his secretary opened. Phyl came into the room holding a can of Diet Pepsi in one hand and a chewed-up pencil in the other. She set the can on the chief’s desk, and twirled the pencil between her index and middle fingers.
    “What’s on your mind, Phyl?”
    “I just saw the pictures of this new one—this new murder victim—on Detective Burke’s desk. The body from this morning. I think I might know her. I think I might know who she is, Chief.”
    “You do?” He frowned. His detectives were still checking missing persons leads.
    “She does manicures at the Red Rose Salon down at Fifth and Marshall.”
    “You have a name?”
    “Lisa. I don’t know her last name. But I’m pretty sure her first name is Lisa.”
    “Did you tell this to Detective Burke?”
    “No. She was on the phone, and I was so startled, I just backed out of her office. It’s taken me a few minutes to collect my thoughts. I could be wrong.” Her eyes misted, and her hands, he realized, were shaking.
    He pushed the button for Cass’s extension. “Burke, I need you to come in here. Now.”
    Cass appeared in the doorway in less than a minute.
    “Is something wrong?” She studied his face. “Please tell me there hasn’t been another body . . .”
    “No. But Phyl thinks she knows who our lady of the morning is.”
    “I think she’s the manicurist at the Red Rose. Lisa something. I could be wrong, Detective. God, I hope I’m wrong. But I saw the pictures on your desk. I didn’t mean to, I just came in to bring you a phone message that had been put in the chief’s box by mistake. And the pictures were there, right on your desk . . .”
    “I’m so sorry you had to see them, Phyl. They weren’t pretty. And it must have been a shock, once you realized that you might recognize the woman.”
    “It was. It still is.” To steady herself, give her hands something to do, Phyl took a sip of Diet Pepsi. “I can call down there, to the Red Rose, if you want. I’ll see if she’s there . . .”
    “No, no. I’ll do that.” Cass glanced at the chief. “I’ll do that right now, and I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”
    “Do it.” Denver nodded. “Do it right