He felt Diane’s eyes on him. He didn’t want her to open the bag. He didn’t want to see what was inside.
“Do it,” Browning said to her.
Next to him, Tower groaned quietly.
“Drink your coffee,” Browning told him.
“It’s going to be her, Ray,” Tower said. “We both know it.”
Browning didn’t answer.
Both men watched as Diane removed something akin to an Exact-O knife from her tool kit. She carefully cut a long slit along the side of the bag. The she replaced the knife in her tool kit and looked up at Browning and Tower.
Neither man moved.
Diane turned back to the still form and carefully lifted the bag, uncovering the small form as if it had been wrapped in a blanket and not a garbage bag. Even bloodied and still, both of them recognized Amy Dugger’s face immediately.
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Tower as he turned and walked away.
Browning said nothing. He only stared down at the little girl’s pummeled head and face. He looked at her this first time not with his investigator’s eyes, but with eyes filled with sympathy and regret.
“I’ll take good care of her,” Diane whispered.
Browning nodded. Then he turned and followed Tower. CSFU technicians would finish with the scene. He had to wait for the results and plan his next move.
“God watch over you,” he heard Diane say to the little body, and he seconded that.
0710 hours
Officer Jack Willow knocked a second time, this time much louder and with his flashlight. He saw that the door already had a number of older divots in it from getting the “graveyard knock.”
“Hold on!” came a voice from inside the small cracker box house. “Jesus! Who the hell is it?”
“River City Police,” Willow answered. “Open the door.”
There was a pause and Willow believed he could sense the homeowner’s regret at having answered up in the first place and then his resignation as he reached for the door.
The knob turned and the door opened inward. A man in his late thirties with a beard and long greasy hair stuck his face in the crack. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you, sir,” Willow said. “Can I come in?”
“Here’s fine,” the man said coyly.
Willow shrugged. It didn’t matter.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“You used to own a blue van, right?” Willow asked.
“Yeah. But I sold it, so whatever the problem is-“
“Who’d you sell it to, Mr. Dexter?”
“Some guy.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t remember. He paid cash.”
“Do you have the paperwork?”
“I sent it to the DMV,” Dexter said. “So it’s all legal.”
“Was his name Fred?” Willow asked.
“I don’t think so. It was Robert, maybe. Like I said, that was a long time ago and he paid cash.”
“I thought it was two months ago.”
Dexter looked at him evenly. “Like I said, a long time ago.”
“Was there a woman with him?”
“Nah, he was alone. What’s this all about? This guy rob a bank or something?”
Willow ignored the question and held up the black and white faxed picture of Fred Henderson. “Could this be him?”
Dexter leaned in and studied the photo. Then his face lit up. “Yeah, that’s the guy. He’s the guy that bought the van.”
0712 hours
“I say we go pick both of them up right now on probable cause,” Tower said. He was sitting in the empty desk next to Browning’s, which had been empty since Billings’ transfer three years ago. “Get that pansy husband out from under the crazy lady and we’ll get a confession in no time.”
Browning considered. “It’s still all circumstantial. We have no physical evidence linking the two of them to Amy.”
“We’ll have all kinds of evidence when he confesses.”
“If he confesses after a bum arrest, some lawyer will get the confession tossed,” Browning said.
“So we Mirandize him first.”
“At which point he clams up.”
Tower sighed. “I don’t think he’ll clam up. I think he’ll sing like a fucking canary.”
Browning didn’t argue. He figured Tower was probably right, but now that Amy was definitely dead, delay was no longer as great a risk for them. He didn’t want to jeopardize the case by moving too swiftly.
“Let Forensics come back. We should get a preliminary report from Diane within an hour. Plus we haven’t heard from Willow yet.”
“I don’t think we should wait, Ray. I think we should-“
Browning’s telephone rang and he answered it.
“Browning.”
“Ray? It’s Carrie Anne from Dispatch.”
“Dispatch,” he mouthed to Tower. “Go ahead,” he said aloud.
“Officer Willow just radioed in an urgent message for you.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t exactly understand it, but he gave it over the air, so I guess he was trying to talk in code or something.”
“What’s the message?”
“He said, ‘the report of sale matches the male from yesterday’s search warrant.’ That was it. He said you’d understand.”
“I do. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and looked at Tower. “Fred Henderson bought the van.”
Tower smiled. “Still want to wait?”
“No. Let’s go get them both.”
0719 hours
Kathy Dugger collapsed into her husband’s arms, sobbing silently.
“Are you sure?” Peter Dugger asked.
“Not one hundred percent,” said Lieutenant Crawford. “But the detectives are confident that it is Amy and I didn’t want you to get this news from another source.”
Peter Dugger nodded, his jaw set.
“I’ll keep you up to date,” Crawford said.
“I want to see her,” Kathy Dugger said. Her voice, muffled by her husband’s chest, was low and determined. She turned to look up at Crawford. “I want to see her right away!”
Crawford shook his head. “That’s not possible yet. I’ll call you when it is.”
“I want to see her!” she cried out.
Peter Dugger shushed her and nodded to Crawford. His eyes were glistening and rimmed with red and his voice shook. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Call…call as soon as you can.”
Crawford nodded and left.
0724 hours
The Henderson home was quiet when Browning knocked. He feared for a moment that maybe Fred and Nancy had somehow gotten wind that they’d found Amy and lammed it. But after a second knocking, Fred Henderson opened the door.
“Yes, detective?” the gaunt man asked, pushing his stray strand of hair over his balding top.
“Is your wife here, Mr. Henderson?”
Fred blinked and shook his head. “She went grocery shopping.”
Browning looked at his watch. It was barely past eight. “This early?”
“She hates crowds.”
“Where does she shop?”
“Wherever the coupons take her,” Fred said. “Why?”
“When do you expect her back?” Browning asked, ignoring his question.
Fred shrugged. “Could be an hour. Could be all day. She gets that way when she’s shopping.”
Browning nodded that he understood. “That’s fine. Not a big deal. Fred, how would you like to come down to the station to talk with me for a little while?”
Fred swallowed and looked at Tower and the uniformed officer behind him. “Uh, is that really necessary?”
“I think so, yeah,” Browning said. “You okay with that?”
Fred hesitated, then nodded. “Let me get my keys,” he said.
“I’ll get them,” said Tower. “Where are they?”
“On a hook in the kitchen.”
“Okay. I’ll lock up for you.”
“I can do it,” Fred said.
“It’s not a problem,” said Tower, walking past him and into the house.
“Why don’t you hop in with Officer Willow,” Browning said. “He’ll be transporting you down to the station. All right?”