Murder Mountain by Stacy Dittrich Page A

opportunity to put my hands around Jarrod Lawhorn’s neck and wring it until he quit breathing.
    I was doing everything I could to avoid talking to Bobby Delphy. If Kincaid had known he was involved, I would have been chewed to shreds for not talking to him first. And realistically, she would be right; he might have been able to tell me everything I needed to know, including the whereabouts of Lizzie Johnston, but I couldn’t do it just then, and I knew that he wouldn’t talk to another detective.
    After several days, I realized that I hadn’t yet contacted Andrea Dean. I would’ve chewed myself out if I could.
How did I forget to do that?
I thought. I started gathering my things to go to Andrea’s house when my phone rang.
This is how I forget to do things, getting interrupted all the time,
I thought as I answered it. It was Nick from Missing Persons.
    “Hey, Cecelia,” he almost chirped, “I got everything you needed if you want to come get it all.”
    “Good deal. I’m on my way,” I told him, and headed to his office.
    But Boz yelled at me from down the hall before I was even out the door of the bureau, “Hey, CeeCee! Whatcha doin’?”
    “Not much. I’m on my way to see Nick in Missing Persons.”
    “Oh, is that on the case you guys were talking about?”
    “Yup.”
    “Hey, I wanted to ask you, since I know you’re busy, is there anything you need help with? I’m pretty caught up with my stuff,” he smiled.
    “Well, as a matter of fact, there is something you can do for me, Boz.”
    “Throw it at me, hot stuff.”
    “There’s a girl named Andrea Dean that I need a statement from. She lives at the corner of Benedict Avenue and Hanna Road. Dispatch probably has her address, but supposedly, she’s heard some things around Roseland about what had happened to this missing girl. She told the girl’s dad that she didn’t know any names or any specifics, but obviously, she’s lying. If you could go over there and crack her open for me, I would really appreciate it,” I said with the most winning smile I could come up with.
    “No problem, darlin’, I’m on my way.”
    With that, I was out the door to go see Nick.
    Nick’s tone of voice on the phone made me curious about what he’d found. He normally didn’t get too excited over things, but his tone had had a slight, but definite, elevation in it when I’d talked to him. Walking into his office, I saw that he had about six files lying on his desk.
    “Here you go, Cecelia,” he said, instead of greeting me.
    “What’s that?”
    “You’re not going to believe this. I never paid attention, but there were only six files still open on women who were missing. I don’t know how the others got closed out, but this is it, and all of ’em with Roseland connections. Definitely couldn’t find any connections to West Virginia, though.” He pushed them towards me.
    I briefly scanned the names on the files: Sarah Whitehall, Karen Cummings, Linda Holbrook, Ashley Newman, Kara Simpson, and Lisa Grendle. I hadn’t heard of any of these women before, which was unusual since I’d worked in uniform for a long time. I asked Nick if any of the circumstances surrounding the missing women were alike.
    “Just Karen and Lisa; the others were older and had serious domestic issues; they probably took off or their husbands buried them in the back yard. Karen and Lisa were habitual drug users, didn’t have any family around, and weren’t even reported missing for weeks. Karen was actually reported by the newspaper delivery boy because her papers were piling up. No one missed them, that’s for sure. But when we checked their apartments, both had left their purses and personal belongings.” He looked at me questioningly.
    “Interesting,” I nodded. “Lizzie Johnston didn’t take anything, either. She walked out of her house to go get cigarettes.”
    “Maybe she had a packed bag hid outside or something.”
    “Possibly but unlikely. Do you mind if I take