Last Known Victim Read Online Free PDF Page A

If these remains turn out to belong to one of the Handyman’s victims.”
    â€œYou think they won’t?”
    The forensic anthropologist followed them to their feet. “I suppose your top priority is determining whether one of those hands belonged to this woman?”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œNot very. We’ll get her bagged and back to the lab. Bones are as unique as an individual. And they don’t lie. If one of those hands belongs to her, we’ll know.”
    â€œIDing her would be a home run. Having a known victim would open up a lot of investigative doors.”
    â€œI’ll look for any kind of identifying bone trauma. That’ll help. So will her dental work.”
    â€œWith what’s left, how close can you come to establishing when she died?”
    â€œNot closer than I already have. Sorry. I’ll make this a priority and call you when I know more.”
    Spencer thanked her and he and Tony started toward the golf cart. “If she was killed post-Katrina, the Handyman is here. And he’s active.”
    â€œDetectives!” Elizabeth Walker called. “We found something.”
    They turned back, crossed to the tech holding the item in his gloved hands. He held it out.
    An NOPD badge. Number 364.
    Spencer stared at the badge, his heart thundering. He made a sound and was aware of the others looking his way. Of the seconds ticking past.
    He knew that badge number. Knew it well.
    â€œSlick? What is it?”
    Spencer shifted his gaze to Tony. “We have one of our answers. She was killed before Katrina. Right before.”
    At his colleagues’ blank looks, he added, “That badge belonged to Captain Sammy O’Shay.”
    The information hit with the force of a small bomb. For a moment, no one spoke.
    Tony broke the silence first. “You’re sure, absolutely sur—”
    â€œHell yes!”
    Elizabeth cleared her throat. “How do you want to proceed, Detective?”
    â€œI’ll call Captain O’Shay. She’ll want to come down here herself. She’ll call the shots from there on.”

5
    Friday, April 20, 2007
3:00 p.m.
    P atti held the badge in her gloved hands. They trembled slightly. Her chest hurt, as if she had been struck. The cool breeze rustled the leaves in the maple tree; one of the crime-scene techs shifted uncomfortably. Otherwise all were silent. Waiting. Giving her time.
    She lifted her gaze, moved it around the circle. She saw sympathy. Shock and sadness.
    And anger.
    A cop had been killed. One of their own.
    â€œI’m sorry, Aunt Patti,” Spencer said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œI’m not,” she said, voice clear and strong. “He’s already gone. This gives me an opportunity to nail the bastard who took him.”
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” he asked.
    â€œThat this changes everything. That it blows the ‘killed by looters’ theory to hell.”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œNo maybe. Sammy stumbled upon the killer, most likely in the act or its aftermath. It got him killed.”
    â€œThat’s one explanation.”
    â€œYou have another?”
    â€œShe could have killed him.”
    â€œNot likely.”
    â€œBut possible.”
    She made a sound of frustration. “Anything’s possible.”
    â€œThe badge,” Spencer continued, “could have ended up in the grave by—”
    â€œAccident? Come on, Detective. It was found under her remains, not mixed in the debris around the grave. My guess is, the son of a bitch tossed Sammy’s badge into the hole, then dumped the body on top.”
    â€œIt could have gone down that way. No doubt. But I don’t think we should close the door on other options.”
    â€œOther options?” she repeated, suddenly angry. The group went stone silent. “What are they? Right now, I have this. And I mean to pursue it.”

6
    Friday, April 20, 2007
7:10 p.m.
    M