Medical Examiner Dr. Addison Kincaid in conversation with newly hired forensic pathologist Dr. Tessa McGowan just after hearing that a murder victim is about to arrive.
“What makes the case unique?” Dr. Kincaid asked.
“Vargas said you’d need to see it to believe it.”
“Thanks, Jerry.” Dr. Kincaid checked her wristwatch. “Looks like our day isn’t over yet.”
“I’ll get changed,” Tessa said.
Dr. Kincaid stopped, as if she’d caught herself. “You both were so professional this morning, it was easy to forget you two know each other.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Dr. Kincaid rubbed the side of her neck. “Why accept this job here? You knew you’d bump into him sooner or later.”
“It’s my hometown, too. And it’s not like I hate the guy. He’s one hell of a cop.”
“He’s intense. I like him, but I’d hate to cross him.”
“Not a good idea when he’s on a mission to solve murder cases. He’s possessed.”
“Because of his sister?”
She’d never heard Dakota talk about his sister to anyone. “You know about Kara?”
“He asked me to review her autopsy file a couple of years ago. I went over it with a close eye but didn’t discover anything that made me think the cause of death wasn’t an accidental overdose.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m not sure he’ll ever know any peace.”
“Did you know his sister?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Both of us were local girls, and we ended up at the college here together. We had a lot in common. And we got along well until that last night.” Tessa drew in a breath, knowing she was opening a door that had been so hard to close.
“Look, I don’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s okay. Might as well tell you. Kara and I and a couple of our friends went to a fraternity Halloween party together. It was a warm Friday night, midterms had just ended, and we were ready to have a good time. I left the festivities early. I ended up getting hit by a car blocks from the party. I don’t really remember the accident or the days surrounding it. My aunt told me later friends visited me in the hospital and told me Kara’s mother was looking for her. My aunt said my cousins were there, and they offered to call around, but they all agreed what could be done to find Kara was being done. I was released on a Wednesday, the same day she was found dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Kincaid said.
She balled up her cap and tossed it in the trash. “The whole family fell to pieces. I was on pain meds, so I really don’t remember. My cousins tell me the funeral was one of the saddest moments of their lives. Dakota couldn’t get home until a month after the funeral, and by then I was in rehab. Dakota and I didn’t meet up again until about two years ago.”
“Ah.”
Talking about this felt oddly disloyal to Dakota, but she wanted it out in the open. Life was full of enough drama without secrets. “We fell for each other, rushed into a marriage that imploded all in the course of one year.”
Dr. Kincaid didn’t comment, but she was listening.
“As you know, Dakota is totally dedicated to the job. He doesn’t rest when he has an open murder case, especially when it’s a young person. I understand somewhat where he’s coming from, but there came a point when it came between us. When I learned about the opening on Project Identify, I took it. Now I’m back.”
Tessa and Dakota meet for the first time since their separation.
“Why the meeting, Tessa?”
“I wanted to let you know I’m back in Richmond. I’ve applied for a yearlong fellowship at the medical examiner’s office. In fact, Dr. Kincaid just offered me the job. I start in the morning.”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “She’s smart. Manages a good shop. Why tell me?”
Ice coated each word. He wasn’t attempting cordial. But then it had never been easy with him. “We’re going to run into each other. In fact, the medical examiner’s office has one of your cases on the docket for tomorrow.”
The muscle in his jaw pulsed again. “You could have told me all this in a text.”
“I know you don’t like texts.”
As he sat back, his jacket opened a fraction, offering a glimpse of his badge clipped to his belt, inches from the grip of his weapon. He waited.
She tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand this victim is young.”
He impatiently tugged at the edge of his jacket. “When you officially start, we’ll talk about it.”
Old frustrations stirred, and she remembered he could be abrupt, his tone blunt when he was upset. She knew he was angry with her. She’d blasted out of his life on a rush of emotion and little thought.
Now, she wanted to say the right words to mend a once-strong connection now shattered into so many pieces, words alone felt inadequate.
Dakota’s question was as piercing as a honed blade. “So that’s it? You wanted to give me a heads up?”
“That was part of the reason.”
He didn’t speak. Barely seemed to breathe.
“I wanted to see you. To see for myself you’re doing okay.”
He shook his head, as if he were bracing for a second shoe to drop.
“I also wanted you to know I remembered today is Kara’s birthday. I haven’t forgotten.”
He didn’t blink. “Okay.”
“She was my friend, too. What happened to her changed my life as well.” Her thumb rubbed the underside of her ring finger as if expecting to feel her wedding band.
“Happened?”
“Yes.” She’d hoped mentioning Kara would chip away at the wall between them, but it only added more bricks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rub salt.”
A weary sigh leaked from his lips. “I assume you’re now making small talk and screwing up the courage to talk about a divorce.”
Their broken marriage dangled between them like glass shards. Hardly anyone would have noticed any hope glinting around the jagged edges. “No, I’m not.”
“No, you’re not what?”
This was the moment she’d rehearsed a hundred times on the long plane ride home. “I’m not filing the papers.”
His gray eyes narrowed. “You want me to?”
“No,” she blurted.
Wariness flashed as his eyes narrowed. “Why not? A clean break means you can get on with your life.”
If this had been a tug-of-war game, she’d have been digging in her heels. “Is that what you want?”
Staring. Silent. Still. He was giving her no glimpse of his thoughts. She’d have to work for every inch of progress.
“I’ve done everything I can think of to get free of you. I was sure ten thousand miles would do the trick. But no luck.” As the words rushed over her lips, she regretted them immediately.
Challenge sharpened already keen features.
A cold chill swept over her and threatened to scatter whatever hopes she’d painstakingly collected over the last weeks as she continued, “I thought eight months apart would mellow us both.”
“I haven’t changed and neither has my job, Tessa. It never will. I don’t know why you imagined I’d change.”
“I’ve changed.”
Shaking his head, he rose as if he could no longer stay still. “Do yourself a favor and move on with your life. File the papers, and I’ll sign them.”
She stood quickly, again bumping the table, sloshing more coffee. As he turned away, she fired back, “I never figured you for a chicken, Sharp.”
His face in profile now, a muscle again pulsed in his jaw. He might recognize her outburst as one of the investigative techniques he used interviewing a hostile witness, but that didn’t mean he was immune when the tables were turned. “Provoking my temper won’t work, Tessa.”
“Figured you were more of a fighter,” she pressed. What the hell did she have to lose now? “Never pegged you for a quitter.”
Unruffled, he reached for his sunglasses. “I’m a realist. We are not suited for each other. I know. You know it.”
She moved a step closer to him, knowing the sunglasses were one of his tells. He put them on when he was rattled. She’d hit her target. “I’m not filing papers.”
“And then what? We remain in limbo?”
“No. We figure it out. We make our marriage work.”
Virginia State Police Agent Dakota Sharp, leaving the scene of a bizarre homicide, is surprised by a call from his estranged wife, pathologist Tessa McGowan.
Back at his car, Sharp slid behind the wheel and turned on the engine. He clicked the heater to high, anxious to drive the bone-deep chill from his body. For a moment he sat in the silence, watching as the body-removal team arrived and worked their stretcher through the tall grass toward the creek.
He reached for his phone to check messages. The first two were on existing cases. A witness had called the station and wanted to talk. Another was from the commonwealth’s attorney regarding another case. And the third—for a moment he sat still, staring at the name. Tessa McGowan. His wife, or more accurately, his estranged wife, had called a half hour ago. No doubt she was finally ready to file papers.
He fished out a cigarette and a silver lighter from his pocket. He lit the tip. Scents of tobacco mingled with trepidation. He inhaled twice before he played back the message.
“Dakota, this is Tessa. Hey, I’m back in Richmond, and I’d like to see you. Maybe we could meet for coffee. You’ve got my number. Thanks.”
Her tone held a tentative edge, betraying a nervousness that told him she was uncomfortable making the call. Shit, in the early days of their relationship, they’d been totally at ease with each other. Back then, if either were restless, it was because they wanted to get the other naked and into bed.
But the detachment that enabled him to deal with death had made him a shitty husband. When he withdrew, Tessa had tried to talk to him, but he never could bring himself to open up. Toward the end, she was all but begging him to communicate.
He stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette, suddenly irritated by the strain and distance in her voice. He listened to the message again as he opened his car door and stubbed the cigarette into the dirt.
At least she had called rather than texted. Anyone who texted tough conversations was a chickenshit.
Drawing in a breath, he called her. On the third ring, his call landed in her voice mail. “This is Tessa. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Bubbly, upbeat, and no signs of stress in the recording. That tone fit the memories of the woman he’d once loved. Hell, still loved. He missed that voice. That Tessa.
At the beep he spoke succinctly. “Tessa. It’s Dakota. I can meet you today at the coffeehouse next to the station. Two o’clock.”
He ended the call giving her no room to negotiate. If she really wanted to talk to him about filing divorce papers—the only reason he attributed to the call—she would do it at his convenience. He’d made it easy for her to leave him, but right now he didn’t feel like making this easy.
He started the car and was backing out onto the road when his phone pinged with a text. It was from Tessa. See you then.
The typed response must underscore her dread. She’d known that this time when she called, the probability of him answering was high. She needed to communicate, but she wasn’t eager to talk.
As much as Sharp wanted to bust Tessa for the text, he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to discuss the final stages of their marriage either.
Did you miss THE SHARK’s debut in May? Want to take a quick peek? Here’s a short THE SHARK excerpt to enjoy and, if you’d like, to share with friends.
“Shield is based near Quantico. We handle mostly high-end problems that our clients need dealt with quickly and quietly.”
“Such as?”
He traced a path through the condensation of his glass.
“Discretion is a big part of our appeal. But we generally find missing things or people.”
“Nothing illegal.”
“Nothing unethical.”
She didn’t press that point. “I’m guessing Shield Security is doing well judging by the suit.”
“It’s rewarding. By the way, you dress well.”
She arched a brow. “Stop, you’re going to make me blush.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We appreciate your discretion on the Carter arrest.”
“If you hadn’t asked for silence, I would’ve given you credit.You passed up a lot of publicity.”
“Which is exactly what we never want.”
Small gold earrings dangled from her ears. He remembered she’d been wearing them during their night together five years ago. “So, if you’re doing so well and making money hand over fist, what’re you doing on my case?”
He sipped his water, allowing the ice-cold liquid to cool his throat. “My boss, Joshua Shield, and I were both with the FBI twelve years ago and assigned to New Orleans. We investigated a series of murders. Four young women were strangled and their bodies left in plain sight in the space of weeks.”
Sitting back, she folded her arms. Her expression was blank, as if waiting for the punch line. “Not following.”
He realized she didn’t know about the four women. “At each murder scene the detectives found five playing cards. They all were hands from a five-card stud poker game. Three were definitely losing hands. One wasn’t terrible, but likely not good enough to win. And in handwritten black ink, Loser was scrawled on each.”
Carefully, she leaned forward and tapped a fingertip on the side of her glass. “Like my victim.”
“Exactly.”
“Was the handwriting the same on the cards?”
“Same word but each set appeared to be written by a different person.”
“You said this guy killed four girls. And let me guess, they all had a similar look. Like Vicky.”
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Riley slid to the edge of the booth, pulled another business card from her back pocket, and pressed it into Sandy’s hand. “Just in Did you miss this excerpt from The Shark? It’s the final of four that have appeared on Forensic Fridays that I’ve been “re-sharing.” I’m hoping those who missed them will have a chance to enjoy these “Shark Shorts” the second time around.
Virginia state trooper Riley Tatum and former FBI agent Clay Bowman searach for an at risk missing person with in this excerpt from The Shark, the first of my The Forgotten Files novels.
“I can help you, Sandy.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, sliding from the booth. “Just find Cassie. She has a chance to get out.”
case.”
“I have your number.”
“Then give it to another girl who needs help.”
“You lived on the streets, didn’t you?”
Riley dug a twenty out of her pocket, set it on the table, and placed her untouched coffee cup on top of it. “What makes you say that?”
“A vibe. Like you get what it’s like. No judgment in your eyes.”
“I been a cop for eight years. I’ve seen my share.”
“A lot of cops see.” She texted a message on her cell phone. “Few understand.”
“Lucky, I guess.”
“See you around, Lucky.”
Riley watched the girl push through the front door and cross the lot outside. She moved toward a dark truck, spoke to the driver, and climbed inside the cab.
Never in Riley’s career had she wanted to see two people behind bars or dead more than she did Darla and Jax. Jo-Jo might not ever testify against Jax, but he’d broken enough laws, including evading the police and possession of drugs in his car, to get him some time in prison. A prison sentence would give her the time to build a human trafficking case against him.
Outside, she walked toward the parking lot, watching as Bowman stepped away from his vehicle. He wore a dark sports coat over his white shirt and dark pants, but when a flap of wind caught the edges of the jacket she glimpsed the weapon at his side.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“There’s a motel about twenty miles east of here.”
“You want to check it out?”
“I do. If we don’t find Cassie, I’ll call Sharp.”
“Let’s go.”
The first forty-eight hours in a missing persons case were the most critical. Didn’t seem like a case could go cold so fast, but the best leads vanished with the ticking clock. She didn’t want to rely on Bowman, but she wanted to stack the odds in her favor. She didn’t want to lose this hand. “Okay.”
“I’ll be right behind you. If we get separated, wait for me.”
“Understood.”
Originally shared 5/27/16 in my Forensic Friday post “The First 48 Hours.”
The Forgotten Files return this November with The Dollmaker .
pt from 