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Rader’s wife. It appeared she might’ve been onto something, and I didn’t believe her. But what exactly was I onto? Nothing more than two dead bodies, one a suspected overdose, each with a tattoo of an O on their back. Coincidence? It’s possible, I suppose. I wasn’t into tattooing, but maybe that particular tattoo was popular. Deciding to research a little before getting excited, I took the next several hours scanning through the Internet looking for the mysterious O. Just typing in the letter alone was pointless. I was overwhelmed with projects by Oprah Winfrey and the symbol for oxygen. I doubted either one had anything to do with the homicides in Mansfield, Ohio.
    Needless to say, my search proved fruitless, other than ending my project with crossed eyes. My questions were still unanswered. It appeared that Kelly and Ben, at some point in their lives, abandoned everything—careers, family, and lifestyles. The only conclusion I could come to was that they both got involved with some high-end drug dealers. Kelly’s lab work had come back clean because, according to her babysitter, she had been living here for a month now. A month, at the very least, without takingdrugs. Maybe she got knocked up by her dealer and that pissed him off. Maybe she was trying to stay off the drugs to ensure a safe pregnancy.
    I shook my head. As cut and dry as I tried to make it sound, it was all nonsense. My gut told me I was wrong, and, when you have a past like mine, I’ve learned to trust it. One key fact I honed in on; Kelly and Ben’s deaths were related—unmistakably.
    I took the chance and called Brenda Rader again. I already knew she didn’t know anything about the tattoo, but I wanted to hear it from her, personally. I had expected her to be downright hostile but her voice perked up when I informed her of my findings.
    “Ben never had any tattoos, Sergeant, at least he didn’t when he left.” She paused briefly. “You believe me now, don’t you?”
    It was more of a statement than a question.
    “Not necessarily, Brenda, but I’m going to be honest with you. We had a recent murder victim with that same tattoo on her back. I just happened to make the connection this afternoon as I looked at both autopsy reports. And, before you ask, no, it doesn’t add up or make sense.”
    I heard a whoosh of air through the phone; a deep breath that Brenda Rader had been holding for close to a week. Her flood of relief was closely followed by tears.
    “So now what?” she asked quietly.
    It was my turn to sigh and rub my eyes with my free hand. As little as I had to go on, I had very little doubt I was about to do the right thing.
    “At this point, I’m going to officially reopen Ben’s investigation as suspicious, not yet a homicide, based on the connection to the other murder victim. And, just so you’re aware, I’m probably going to take a little heat for this from my superiors since there’s not much to go on. But,to answer your question—I believe you a little more than I did earlier. Fair enough?”
    “Fair enough. Thank you, Sergeant.”
    “I’ll be in touch.”
    I hung up with Brenda and glanced at my watch. I was horribly late and Rena would no doubt already be at home getting settled in. Quickly calling my mother, I informed her I had a few more things to take care of and would be on my way soon. I had made a decision to open a new murder investigation without clearing it through Naomi first, and now it was time to explain myself.
    She was in her office with Coop, getting ready to leave for the day. I briefed her quickly, omitting the part about calling Brenda Rader back and telling her I officially declared her husband’s death as suspicious.
    “Lots of people have the same tattoos. It really doesn’t mean anything.” Naomi closed her office window.
    “Couples have matching tattoos sometimes,” Coop added. “Maybe Ben Rader knocked up Kelly Dixon, killed her, felt guilty about it, and then overdosed. You