Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

from one of the patrolmen and briefly reconnoitered the area around the victim. He crouched over a bent umbrella and a leather-wrapped canister of pepper spray, or maybe mace. Both objects had paint around them, waiting to be photographed and tagged as evidence.
    Sean made a mental note to check if the fingerprint analysis came up with anything that could connect the items to the victim. A little farther away, he found two more objects. Medium-heeled women’s shoes, sprawled a couple of feet apart, size 7. Glancing over at the victim, he saw sensible black flats on her feet.
    “OK, team, we’re ready to start,” one of the technicians shouted. The forensics team had the scene lit up like center stage at a Vegas show.
    Stepping closer to the victim, Sean examined the body objectively. He had seen death before, yet still he had to work to distance himself from the victim’s humanity and vulnerability.
    This one had brown eyes that were wide open. Her mouth was open as well, as if she had died crying out. Sean’s lips thinned as he took in the victim’s clothing, hairstyle, jewelry. She looked like a kid.
    Crouching down, he examined the stab wounds more closely. A decent-sized blade had been used. One stab alone would have been mortal from the look of things, yet there were at least four other wounds. Something to keep in mind about the murderer—he enjoyed his work and believed in overkill.
    A technician shifted a piece of equipment, throwing astark light across the victim from a different angle. Sean focused immediately on a cloth loop at the woman’s slender waist. Shifting around, he saw an identical bit of fabric on the other side. It looked like she had been wearing a belt, but he didn’t see it anywhere.
    Sean motioned to one of the technicians. “Did one of you guys find a belt or sash? It looks like there was one here—see the loops? She wouldn’t wear the dress with these things just hanging off her sides, would she?”
    The forensics tech studied the victim and nodded his agreement. He made a note on his tiny laptop and called out questions to his team members.
    No one had seen any belt.
    All of the victim’s other articles were there next to her body. Sean looked over her effects—a straw purse and umbrella, a Mickey Mouse key ring with four keys attached. No belt.
    “We’ll look for it,” the tech assured Sean.
    “Good, but I don’t think you’ll find anything.”
    “Why not? Looks like maybe this was a robbery attempt or something. Sure, her money and stuff is right here,” the tech said, “but word is the killer was interrupted by a witness, which would explain why the valuables got left behind.”
    Sean’s eyes were pale blue and cold in the artificial light. “I think our killer got exactly what he wanted from this victim, and then kept a little something to remember her by.”
    “You think the guy wanted a trophy? The belt?” The tech sounded excited. “Hey, I bet you’re right!”
    Sean didn’t say anything. Sometimes he hated being right.

About Heather Lowell
    Heather Lowell is the daughter of bestselling author Elizabeth Lowell. When the Storm Breaks is Heather’s first novel. She lives in Arizona.

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