Tough Justice Series Box Set: Parts 1-8. Carla Cassidy

dressing room had been vacated save one officer and the man tasked with logging all of the forensic evidence. All personnel were stationed outside of the dressing room lounge, being questioned for what they had or hadn’t seen. The door to the room closest to them was opened.

      Lara braced herself for what was waiting.

      The unnecessary murder of a woman and the connection that tied her to Lara. Because there was a connection. The only question that remained was how?

      The man she was with gave a nod to the officer, and soon Lara was staring at a woman crumpled on the floor at the back of the little space, obviously dead and obviously marked.

      “Female, early thirties, dark hair, a MM on her cheek,” the officer said as if reading off notes. Lara took in these details as she scanned the woman’s tan body. Short and skinny, she was on her side and was topless. “In the middle of trying on swimsuits when she was killed,” he added. Lara’s eyes jumped to a pink bikini top still on a hanger in the corner.

      “How was she killed?” Lara asked, not wanting to step inside for fear she’d damage evidence.

      “The medical examiner will call it when he gets here, but, just from the lack of evidence around here, I’m going to guess she was strangled,” the forensics guy answered. He motioned to the victim’s neck. “See the bruising?”

      He was right. Around the victim’s neck was a dark mark.

      “It looks too thin to be from someone’s hand,” she noted.

      “I agree. I’d guess it was by wire or string or—” he pointed to the bikini top “—it could have just as easily been that.”

      “Strangled with a bikini, that’d be a first,” the officer said. Once again, there was no humor in his words.

      “How was she found?” Lara asked as she watched the forensics guy look closely at the three walls boxing him and the victim in. “Did anyone hear the struggle?”

      The officer shook his head. “An employee came back from putting out clothes and saw the door opened, even though the number tag was still on the outside. It was around then she realized she couldn’t find her room key.”

      “So our attacker lifted it, used it to open the door, slipped inside, and potentially used a string bikini to strangle our victim?” Lara asked, bewildered. “How did no one hear that?”

      “My guess?” the forensics guy chimed in. “Our victim is notably petite. If she was adequately surprised, then she could have also been easily overpowered.” At that he looked around the space. “There are no marks, scratches or dents on the walls. If you’re being attacked in a confined area where someone is trying to kill you, my thoughts are that you would try to utilize what’s around you or at the very least make a much bigger mess.”

      “Unless your attacker is bigger and stronger,” Lara supplied.

      The man nodded. “In my opinion, our victim didn’t have a chance.”

      The three of them, despite being strangers, gave the woman at their feet a small moment of silence. The helplessness she must have felt—the fear—while being killed in a public place was enough to make Lara’s heart hurt. The officer cleared his throat, and the moment passed.

      “This is the women’s dressing room, though, correct?” Lara asked. “It’s my turn to take a guess and say our perp was a woman, too, so to avoid arousing suspicion versus a burly man just walking in and out with anyone raising an eyebrow.” She turned to the officer. “I’d like the security footage from the cameras around the entrance into here.”

      The man didn’t seem too enthused to fulfill her request, but he didn’t fight her about it either. Which was good. She would have let him know real quick who pulled rank.

      “Do we have a name for our shopper?” Lara glanced at the woman’s face. In profile she almost looked peaceful.

      “Elizabeth-Something,” the officer answered, pulling out his notebook. Lara let out a breath.

      Not Lara, she thought.

      The cop flipped the book open and found his notes. “Grant,” he read. “Elizabeth Grant.”

      And just like that the relief was gone.

      Dammit.

      Lara followed the officer to the security office and retrieved the tapes.

      “The camera facing the entrance stopped working a few minutes before the victim was found,” he said. “I’m assuming you also want the other footage from the floor?”

      Lara shook her head. “I want the footage from the entire building.”

      The officer snorted. “Of course you do.”

      Lara collected the recordings before returning briefly to the crime scene. Dr. Herman Boze, the medical examiner, was held up in traffic, and the forensics guy had already left. An officer remained in the doorway of the dressing room, but no one else was around.

      “I’d like to take one more look, if you don’t mind,” she said. He checked her credentials again, then stepped aside. He didn’t follow her in.

      Elizabeth Grant was right where she’d left her. One cheek pressed against the dressing room floor, the other facing up against the down draft of the air-conditioning. The MM breaking up the smooth of her skin.

      She’d had a life before that morning.

      She’d had a future.

      Now all she had was a stamp on her cheek.

      “I’ll make this right,” she whispered. “He won’t get away with what he’s done.”

      As she made the promise, Lara couldn’t help but picture the man she’d destroyed. Or, at least, the man she thought she’d destroyed.

      Lara rolled her shoulders and left Elizabeth Grant behind.

      * * *

      The way back to the office was spent in a fit of building rage. Lara’s knuckles were white. Her grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping her from screaming. Elizabeth Grant was dead because of her. There were no two ways about it. She had been used as a message, a way to shake Lara.

      And it had worked.

      She took the stairs to the twenty-third floor slowly to work out her strained emotions. Not losing her drive but evening out her aggression. She needed to be sharper. No more doubts. More focused. Moretti was a sore spot for her. One that was more than being prodded. If she let him get under her skin, then she ran the chance of losing sight of the endgame.

      Stopping him. Once and for all.

      Lara exited the stairwell and walked right up to her cubicle with more of a calm exterior than she perhaps actually possessed. Nick’s monitor was on, but he was nowhere in the room. She’d sent him a text just after she’d left Macy’s, letting him know she was headed back to the office, but he hadn’t responded. The rest of the team was also absent from the main room. She hoped that meant they had found a lead—something—that they were currently following. Lara didn’t waste time wondering. She had her own lead to chase.

      Cass was standing behind her chair, facing away from the door, when Lara knocked. Even before she turned around, it wasn’t hard to see she was stressed. Her shoulders were stiff. She turned quick. An expression akin to alarm crossed her face. It transformed into a sweeping stare of comprehension, before stopping on the cases in her hand.

      “I heard about the woman,” she greeted, walking forward with her hand outstretched. Her purple glasses were pushed to the top of her head, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Lara handed the CCTV footage over. “Was it true? The stamp, I mean.”

      Lara didn’t want to, but she nodded. “Yes.”

      Cass sat back in her chair and swiveled around. “Where?” Her voice was clipped.

      “Her