self-employed. I guess she did freelance graphic-artist work.”
“Did she live in an apartment complex or home? Maybe a neighbor saw her?”
I shook my head. “Condo complex. The local PD did some door knocking. Got nothing. As far as what they found, no one had seen the woman for days. The last person who saw her was a friend who went out to a club with her the prior weekend.”
“Did you speak with the friend?”
“I did. She was the first I called after the local PD. The woman wasn’t much help. She said that Angela was kind of a homebody and she had to persuade her out of the house the prior weekend when they went out. They didn’t meet anyone and ended up going home around midnight.”
“Nothing seemed off from any stories you got with the mother, friend, et cetera?”
“No. Her mother claimed that she didn’t make a lot of money, so she tried to limit what she did, spendingwise.”
Beth looked thoughtful. “So if you’re a graphic artist and spend most of your time on a computer, I’m betting you spend a fair amount of time online—looking at things, social media, whatever.”
“If it’s always in front of you and you have nothing better to do, sure.”
“We should get her computer for a look,” Beth said.
“Not a bad idea. I’ll call her mother back to see what became of it. Maybe she’ll make it available to us. Her mother, Hilary, can’t meet with us until Friday, though. As far as the local PD, the patrol captain I spoke with in district four, where she was found, said we could come tonight. The night shift starts at seven, and he said he would be able to send us out with the two officers that were first on the scene. I didn’t give him an exact time that we’d be there. I figured I’d see where we’re at with the victim’s friends and family first. Aside from that, I called the local medical examiner’s office that handled Kennedy Taylor’s body. It was after hours, so I left a message. I just wanted to see if her remains were still there and check if we could get a viewing. What about you? What did you get?” I asked.
Beth ran her finger down the notepad in her lap. “We have an interview tomorrow at three o’clock p.m. with Kennedy Taylor’s family. It looks like their home is about forty-five minutes from here. I spoke with her father. I guess they are doing some kind of gathering, so their other daughter, who the father said was extremely close with Kennedy, will be there as well. As far as the other victim, we have three numbers for father, mother, and best friend of Jasmine Thomas, our second-to-last victim. I called all three, got three voice mails, and left three messages.”
“Okay.” I jotted down the interview time in my notepad and looked at my watch—a couple minutes after six. “What did you get with the local PD about seeing the other dump sites?”
“We’re set to view the two that happened in the sixteenth district tomorrow evening at eight. The patrol sergeant said he would have someone escort us.”
I nodded. “Well, it looks like we’re just about set on appointments with everyone except those close with Jasmine Thomas. Are you ready to head over to view the dump site?”
“Sure,” Beth said.
“Okay, I’ll call the patrol captain back and let him know we’re on our way.”
“I’ll call for the car,” Beth said.
I dialed the patrol captain, confirmed that we’d be there within the hour, and hung up. I stuffed my notepad and pen in the pocket of my suit jacket hanging over the back of my office chair. Then I stood and pulled my jacket on.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready as I’ll get.”
She headed for the door, and I followed.
The valet out front of the hotel had her car waiting when we stepped from the front doors. I handed the guy a tip and hopped in the passenger side. Beth took a seat behind the wheel and looked over at me. “You don’t want to drive?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I said.
“Did you want
“Did she live in an apartment complex or home? Maybe a neighbor saw her?”
I shook my head. “Condo complex. The local PD did some door knocking. Got nothing. As far as what they found, no one had seen the woman for days. The last person who saw her was a friend who went out to a club with her the prior weekend.”
“Did you speak with the friend?”
“I did. She was the first I called after the local PD. The woman wasn’t much help. She said that Angela was kind of a homebody and she had to persuade her out of the house the prior weekend when they went out. They didn’t meet anyone and ended up going home around midnight.”
“Nothing seemed off from any stories you got with the mother, friend, et cetera?”
“No. Her mother claimed that she didn’t make a lot of money, so she tried to limit what she did, spendingwise.”
Beth looked thoughtful. “So if you’re a graphic artist and spend most of your time on a computer, I’m betting you spend a fair amount of time online—looking at things, social media, whatever.”
“If it’s always in front of you and you have nothing better to do, sure.”
“We should get her computer for a look,” Beth said.
“Not a bad idea. I’ll call her mother back to see what became of it. Maybe she’ll make it available to us. Her mother, Hilary, can’t meet with us until Friday, though. As far as the local PD, the patrol captain I spoke with in district four, where she was found, said we could come tonight. The night shift starts at seven, and he said he would be able to send us out with the two officers that were first on the scene. I didn’t give him an exact time that we’d be there. I figured I’d see where we’re at with the victim’s friends and family first. Aside from that, I called the local medical examiner’s office that handled Kennedy Taylor’s body. It was after hours, so I left a message. I just wanted to see if her remains were still there and check if we could get a viewing. What about you? What did you get?” I asked.
Beth ran her finger down the notepad in her lap. “We have an interview tomorrow at three o’clock p.m. with Kennedy Taylor’s family. It looks like their home is about forty-five minutes from here. I spoke with her father. I guess they are doing some kind of gathering, so their other daughter, who the father said was extremely close with Kennedy, will be there as well. As far as the other victim, we have three numbers for father, mother, and best friend of Jasmine Thomas, our second-to-last victim. I called all three, got three voice mails, and left three messages.”
“Okay.” I jotted down the interview time in my notepad and looked at my watch—a couple minutes after six. “What did you get with the local PD about seeing the other dump sites?”
“We’re set to view the two that happened in the sixteenth district tomorrow evening at eight. The patrol sergeant said he would have someone escort us.”
I nodded. “Well, it looks like we’re just about set on appointments with everyone except those close with Jasmine Thomas. Are you ready to head over to view the dump site?”
“Sure,” Beth said.
“Okay, I’ll call the patrol captain back and let him know we’re on our way.”
“I’ll call for the car,” Beth said.
I dialed the patrol captain, confirmed that we’d be there within the hour, and hung up. I stuffed my notepad and pen in the pocket of my suit jacket hanging over the back of my office chair. Then I stood and pulled my jacket on.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready as I’ll get.”
She headed for the door, and I followed.
The valet out front of the hotel had her car waiting when we stepped from the front doors. I handed the guy a tip and hopped in the passenger side. Beth took a seat behind the wheel and looked over at me. “You don’t want to drive?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I said.
“Did you want
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