Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense by Brett Battles, Robert Gregory Browne, Melissa F. Miller, J. Carson Black, Michael Wallace, M A Comley, Carol Davis Luce Page B

had ended on a hot night in May when two homicide cops had shown up at her dorm room at the University of Arizona.
    Laura fed Calliope's Music the baby carrots one at a time, her mind still on the other horse and the other time. Remembering what it was like to be young and in love and have the whole world in front of you. She didn't realize then that it all could implode at an instant.
    Laura knew that being young and in love wasn't enough when your life was rocked by tragedy. No matter how hard you tried to make it work.
    A bright green light rocketed out into the sky in the direction of the Santa Catalina Mountains, flashed briefly past the red radio tower lights, and turned the mountain peaks into a silhouette.
    Laura remembered her stint at a summer camp on Mt. Lemmon—another memory turned to ashes. Summerhaven all burned up now.
    Sometimes it seemed that the good moments were only a prelude to tragedy. That sooner or later, even the lucky ones ran out of time.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The squad bay at the Department of Public Safety was upstairs. DPS had four squads of four criminal investigators each. The desks in Laura's squad bay were arranged near the corners—every man an island. Laura was more of an island because she was the only female.
    Laura got in to work at six thirty. She liked to come in early because she had the place to herself more often than not and could hear herself think
    The map of southern Arizona was already pinned up on the bulletin board above her desk. Laura would work out from there in concentric circles, looking for the girl Micaela Brashear had described.
    Laura couldn't stop thinking about The Missing Girl. She thought of her name just like that, with capital letters. Laura decided she would call at least five jurisdictions a day, starting with Tucson and working her way to the outlying areas: Marana PD; Oro Valley PD; Sahuarita PD; the Tohono O'odham Tribal Police. Like a rock thrown into a pond, the circles would spread. She wouldn't stop at the Arizona border. She knew someone in Mexico. She knew someone in New Mexico.
    It was ineffably sad to think that a child could not leave even a small footprint on the earth. At the very least, Laura would learn who this girl was. And if possible, she would find her and bring her home.
    By seven thirty, the other members of her squad had trickled in. Victor Celaya, the detective she partnered with most often, stopped by her desk. “How's the case coming? The reporters after you yet?”
    He held his coffee mug out and away from his crisply-ironed chinos. The mug had a picture of a gun pointing outward and the legend: Better judged by twelve than carried by six.
    “Not me, but the lieutenant's holding a press conference at noon.”
    He whistled. “Sounds to me like somebody's starstruck.”
    Laura laughed. In truth, there was little reason for a press conference at this juncture. No suspects, no leads, very little information that could be released to the press.
    Victor's phone rang. He backed up to his desk and picked up, sloshing his coffee onto some papers. Held them up with two fingers, grimacing, as he listened to whoever was on the line. He glanced down at his slacks, and she heard him say, “Can you hold for a minute?” He left the squad bay and returned a few minutes later rubbing at the stain with a wet paper towel before picking up the phone again. Victor hated messes—except for the romantic kind. He had a wife, a mistress, and fling going with a waitress at a restaurant in South Tucson.
    If you overlooked that, he was a great guy.
    Laura heard a scrape of a shoe and looked up. Jaime was here, the ID he'd been given dangling from a lanyard around his neck. “We'd better hurry if we don't want to miss Patsy Groves's plane,” he said by way of greeting.
    ________
    This time, Laura drove. The new airport looked like all the other airports in the country. Laura missed the cowtown feel of the old one, even if it had been stuck in the