Cold Case Murder. Shirlee McCoy

the tangle of long hair he was examining. “Are you okay?”

      “Fine.” But her voice trembled, and her hand shook as she brushed a thick strand of hair from her cheek. Blond hair. Similar to what Harrison was bagging. Was Jodie imagining herself lying dead on the ground, or was her reaction simply a case of rookie nerves? Seeing the dead was never an easy thing.

      Pointing that out to Jodie wouldn’t do any good. Harrison had worked with enough rookies to know that they’d rather pass out on the evidence than admit they were about to.

      He carefully lifted a cervical vertebra, pausing when he caught sight of another bullet. “Do me a favor, will you? I’ve found a second bullet. Can you let Sam know?”

      “Have you found the casings?” Whatever nerves she’d been feeling now seemed to have disappeared as she crouched beside him, her shoulder brushing his, the flowery scent he’d noticed earlier drifting around her.

      “Not yet. That doesn’t mean they’re not here.”

      “I’ll let Sam know.” She stood and moved away, disappearing into the tunnel, her scent still lingering in the room.

      The fact that he could still smell it as he bent back over the remains bothered Harrison more than he wanted to admit. It had been two years since Allison had thrown the engagement ring he’d given her across the room and stomped out of the house they’d planned to share after their wedding. One year and three months since she’d eloped with Jamison Bentley—a high-school teacher whose seven-to-four work-days and summers off were exactly what Allison had wanted from Harrison. It was the one thing Harrison hadn’t been able to give her. His job was his passion, his calling. He had no plan to give it up.

      Which was why he’d decided to avoid relationships, accept his life as a bachelor and be happy about it. It was also why he shouldn’t be noticing Jodie’s perfume. Or shampoo. Or whatever it was that clung to her skin.

      Apparently, the past month had taken more of a toll on Harrison than he’d thought. Two weeks in California working with the FBI to identify remains left by a serial killer. Then back to New Orleans and twelve-hour days getting caught up on work. He needed a vacation. That was the problem.

      It had to be, because there was no way Harrison planned to admit that he found a woman intriguing who looked like she was barely out of her teens.

      With that firmly in mind, he turned his attention back to the man and woman lying on the ground in front of him. The nameless, faceless dead. He’d find out who they were and make sure their families had the closure they deserved. Nothing—not time, not scanty evidence, not a sweet-smelling distraction—would keep him from doing that.

      TWO

      Jodie stepped out of the house and into the damp March air, her heart beating in time to her pounding head. She never got headaches in New Orleans, but she’d had them plenty when she’d lived in Loomis. She should have known they’d be back as soon as she set foot in the little town.

      Sam was a few yards away, talking to a uniformed officer, and Jodie walked toward them, determined to forget both the headache and the past. If she kept focused, kept moving forward on the case, there’d be no chance of sinking back into what she’d been a decade ago. “Sam? We’ve got another bullet in the tunnel. No casings yet, but Cahill isn’t done collecting the evidence.”

      “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll get it and send it with the other for ballistics testing, and—”

      “You’ll be wasting your time on that, Agent Pierce.” The officer cut in, and Jodie took her first good look at him, her heart sinking when she realized who he was.

      Sheriff Bradford Reed. His lined face and faded eyes sparked a memory of another day. Jodie had been cutting school, and he’d found her hanging out behind the library. He’d been neither cruel nor kind, his silent disapproval making Jodie feel worse than her father’s rage had.

      “Wasting my time because…?” Sam’s question pulled Jodie from the memory and she blinked, trying to free herself from the past.

      “The crimes aren’t related. We’ve got no mass murderer or serial killer or whatever name y’all want to put on it. This is a peaceful town—”

      “A peaceful town where several murders have taken place, Sheriff Reed. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the fact.” Sam spoke with quiet conviction, and Jodie wondered if he and the sheriff had been on opposite sides of the fence during the course of the FBI’s investigation into Leah Farley’s disappearance.

      “I know what’s going on in my town. I’m just saying that what’s happening now and what happened years ago aren’t related. So there’s no reason to waste time and money checking on those bullets. They’re not going to match what we’ve already got.”

      “Maybe they’re not, Sheriff, but it’s our job to find out for sure.” Jodie met the man’s eyes and refused to fidget under his intense scrutiny. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t recognize her.

      Of course, she’d never been lucky.

      “You’re Jodie Gilmore.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Been a long time.”

      “Ten years.”

      “Does your father know you’re back in town?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Guess you’ll get around to telling him eventually.” He shifted his attention back to Sam, dismissing her as he had when he’d dropped her off at her house so many years before. “Looks like we’re done here. You’ll let me know what your forensic specialist has to say about those bodies?”

      “That and whether or not we get a match on the blood on Leah Farley’s shoe.”

      “Good. See ya around, then.” The sheriff nodded his head in Jodie’s direction, his eyes dull and lifeless. No motivation. No real need to find answers. If the murderer in his town was going to be found, Jodie had a feeling the sheriff was more than happy to leave the finding to the FBI.

      “Sheriff Reed hasn’t changed much.” She spoke as the sheriff got into his car and drove away.

      “He’s always been unmotivated?”

      “I’d call it indifferent, but I guess it means the same.”

      “What it means is that he’d be willing to let these people go unidentified. That’s not acceptable to me.”

      “What about the other murders? Is he more motivated to solve them?” Jodie asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

      “I think he was hoping for a cut-and-dried case, but the more answers we find, the more questions we have. I’m hoping that with you here, things will move along a little more quickly.”

      “You think I can get the answers you need?” His assumption was so far off base, she almost laughed. Not only would she not be able to get people in Loomis to talk, but also they might be more closedmouthed around her. She knew them, after all. Their pasts. Their secrets. Their vulnerabilities.

      Just as they knew hers.

      “You grew up here, Jodie. They’re going to open up to a local in a way they won’t open up to an outsider.”

      Maybe that was true, but in Loomis’s eyes, she was an outsider. She didn’t bother trying to explain. Only someone who had lived in the town could understand. “I’ll do my best to be an asset to the investigation.”

      “I’m sure you will.” His tone was serious, but Jodie could see amusement in his eyes.

      She’d sounded like a rookie, and she suddenly felt like one. “Just so you know, this isn’t my first case.”

      “Just so you know, that’s why I called you in. You’ve got great interrogation skills. Even if this