Part 26 (2/2)

The hall led to the kitchen. Meredith stopped suddenly.

A middle-age woman lay motionless on the floor, her clothes stained with blood. Her eyes were wide open.

Meredith knew before she stooped and put her fingers to the woman's neck that she was dead. Horror chilled her. Disbelief. She knelt there, paralyzed by both.

Her mind started working again. 'What if someone is still in the house'?

But she had been waiting outside for thirty minutes....

Dear G.o.d, what if she had gone in then? 'Perhaps the woman would still be alive'.

The dog stood as close as he could to Mrs. Starnes and made soft noises. Crime scene, she reminded herself. This was a crime scene.

”Come on, guy,” she told the dog.

He wouldn't move. When she leaned down to pick him up, he growled and inched closer to his mistress. Her heart ached for the woman and the distressed animal.

Dammit. She was doing everything except what she knew she should do. 'Call the police'.

Because of shock. She had been on the scenes of murders before, but this woman, who must be Mrs. Starnes, had known her mother, had been a friend. She had been waiting for Meredith, to give her answers.

'Call the police'!!! She looked around for a telephone, but long training stopped her. She knew the need to maintain the integrity of a crime scene. Her cell phone!

She took the revolver out of her purse and placed it on a table within quick reach, then found her cell phone and called 911 to report a murder.

Gage looked over his notes as Wagner drove. The two of them were returning from interviewing street people in the area where a homeless man had been stabbed nights before. Henry was the only name they had for the victim. The dead man had been wearing faded and torn fatigues and was in his fifties. Vietnam vet age. Had he been in the army and, if so, had his tour led to what he'd become? Gage had seen too much of that.

They were running fingerprints now through the FBI. They'd also sent them to the army.

Both he and Wagner were silent on the way back to headquarters.

When they were ten minutes from the office, his cell phone rang.

”Gaynor,” he said.

”Cliff Morris,” the caller identified himself. ”Miss Rawson called me. She had an appointment with an old friend of her mother's. When she arrived, no one answered. She tried the door and went in. The woman was dead. She called 911, then me. This is a homicide and out of my territory, but I thought you would like to know.”

”What's the address?” Gage jotted it down. ”Is she still there?”

”I think so.”

”I'm on my way.” Gage hung up, then called the desk. ”I just heard about a murder in the Garden District. It's not far from where I live and I'm out there now. Do you want me to pick it up?”

A pause on the phone as someone went to check with an officer. Gage knew it was logical for Wagner and him to get the case. Because he was new, they had a reduced caseload. He had no intention, though, of mentioning the Rawson name. That could wait until he officially had the case.

The sergeant was back in several moments. ”The lieutenant said go ahead.”

Gage closed the phone.

Wagner glanced over at him. ”What murder?”

”A woman in the Garden District. A detective just called. The lieutenant gave us a thumbs-up.” He gave his partner the address. He didn't say more. Why in the h.e.l.l had Meredith called Morris rather than him? And why was she wandering about the city without protection? What if she had arrived earlier and walked in on a killing?

His blood ran cold at the thought. This murder couldn't be a coincidence. Not now. Too much was whirling around Meredith. She was the eye of a hurricane.

”Step on it,” he said.

Gage put the light on top of the unmarked departmental car as Wagner maneuvered through the crowded streets. They arrived at the address within minutes.

Uniformed police had beat them there. Two cars, lights still flas.h.i.+ng, were in the driveway. An ambulance was parked on the street.

Gage barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out, badge in hand. He went past two officers, who nodded him inside. He followed voices to the kitchen.

Meredith was sitting in a chair next to the kitchen table. Her face was white, her jaw clenched, her expression grim. Her arms clutched a furry dog that looked like a miniature collie.

A woman lay on the floor several feet away. Two paramedics stood by. A uniformed officer was talking to them. Gage showed them his badge while casting a look toward Meredith.

Then he turned to the paramedic. ”How long has she been dead.”

”Hard to tell at the moment,” he said. ”At least an hour. The medical examiner will know more.”

Gage turned back to Meredith. ”What happened, Meredith?”

”You know each other?” one of the officers said.

”Ms. Rawson is a former a.s.sistant district attorney,” Gage said.

The officer turned back to her. ”You didn't say that.”

”I didn't--” she started.

”What happened?” Gage broke in.

The officer shrugged. ”What you see is all I know. We just got here a few moments before you, about the same time as the paramedics. It looks like a bullet wound. ”

”Call the crime scene people,” Gage said. ”Then secure the scene and keep anyone else from coming inside.” The paramedics left. The body couldn't be moved until the crime scene unit did its work. He turned to Meredith. ”We should go in the other room.”

Once he got her out of the kitchen, he asked Meredith gently, ”Who is she?”

”Are you the lead detective?”

”I'm not sure yet,” he said. ”Probably.”

”I didn't think...”

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