The Big Cat Nap

killer took his time.”
    “Yep.” Rick moved a short distance away from the STI. “We’re dealing with someone who can think ahead, is cool, and can act quickly if need be. So much easier to catch a murderer who kills in a fit of rage.”
    “Sure is.” Cooper lightly ran her hands over the stones. “Whoever shot Ashby actually raked this, and raked it deep down, including all the way out to Black Cat Road. Not a chance we’ll get a tire imprint.” She stood up. “And the rake in Hilary’s little garden shed was washed off. No fingerprints.”
    Rick smiled ruefully. “Hey, maybe the guy’s a professional gardener and carries his tools.”
    “Right.” Coop smiled back at him, then her smile faded. “Where to first? Hilary Larson or Nick’s mom?”
    “I’ll send Jarrod over to Mrs. Ashby. He’s good in a situation like this. You and I will find out where Miss Larson works and get ourselves over there.” He sighed. “You know, I’ve had to inform peoplefor decades that someone they love has been killed on the road or died in a brawl. It never gets any easier.”
    “Yeah. It’s their shock, that split second of disbelief, that always gets me. This was so cold, so calculated.” She shook her head.
    Rick walked over to the squad car, called in to see if anyone there could find where Hilary Larson worked. “Come on.”
    Coop hopped into the car with him. “Let’s try the neighbors, okay?”
    He turned out of the driveway. They slowly drove down Black Cat Road. They stopped at three places, all off the main drag, for it was a fairly well-traveled road. No one was home; everyone was at work.
    They then turned down Mechunk Road. Although this road was more miles from Hilary’s place, someone might know her. Same story, though.
    “Remember when this was Route One?” Rick slowed as he reached the end of the road.
    “Then the post office changed everything to names. I still remember it by the route numbers and the box numbers. I guess a name is progress.”
    “Depends on the name.” Rick smiled.
    The dispatcher reached them. “Old Navy. Hilary Larson works at Old Navy in the Barracks Road Shopping Center.”
    Rick asked, “How’d you track her down?”
    “Well, I couldn’t find anything in the computer other than her address and license-plate number, so I asked around and Sherry, at the front desk, actually knows her. Small world.”
    “That’s the truth. Thanks, Marcie,” Rick told the dispatcher as he headed out to Route 64, but he didn’t hit the siren. No need.
    The two drove west in companionable silence.
    Coop finally broke it. “ReNu is turning into a dangerous place to work.”
    “It could be that Walt and Nick were tied in to something outside the business. These days, you never know. Just because people pass blood tests—which Victor informed me the business does randomly—doesn’t mean they aren’t
selling
drugs.”
    “True. Doesn’t feel like that, though, does it?”
    “No.”
    “Then there’s those racy pictures on Walt’s computer. Could be some kind of sex ring. Remember years ago when I first came on the force, young girls were being recruited from the private school as well as the university?”
    “Mmm-hmm. We’ll never completely stop that, you know. Unless someone comes forward, that’s one of the easiest and most lucrative businesses to run. All you need is a telephone and a reliable stable. And it’s true we’re about due for one of those scandals.”
    “This isn’t it. Neither of these victims was the type who could organize and operate a high-class call-girl ring. Boy, this is a town that eats up stuff like that.” Coop grimaced.
    “They all do. But when you consider the type of high-powered men coming in and out of Charlottesville …” He shrugged. “Easy pickings.”
    “I’ve never understood why high-powered women don’t feel entitled to the same benefits.” Coop looked out at the already-rich foliage.
    “Do you?”
    “God, no. I’d die before I’d pay for sex.”
    “Therein lies the difference. In sex, a woman is the center of attention, always and ever. The man has to find her, woo her, court her with goods, or, in the case of the high-class call girls, shell out the bucks. All you ladies have to do is breathe.”
    “Guess so, but it’s so … I don’t know. Neither one of us is a prude. We both know how the world works, but to pay for a woman, even a discreet one who comes from an equally discreet service, there’s