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Kit swallowed hard. “Sparkly pink.”
The tech was masked and goggled, but his eyes still showed grim recognition.
His much younger assistant did not understand, however. She looked up from where she was removing the lower-body dirt with a small brush. “What am I missing?” she asked hesitantly.
“Old serial killer case,” her supervisor said quietly. “Always left the bodies cuffed with pink handcuffs. The last body found was five years ago. The first was found fifteen years ago, and two were found in between. This could be the fifth victim.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”
Indeed. “The pink handcuffs detail was not released to the press.” Kit met the young tech’s eyes, silently warning her to keep her mouth shut.
“I won’t say a word,” the younger woman promised. “Holy cow. So it’s not likely to be a copycat.”
Baz exhaled, a frustrated sound. “That’s what we have to find out.”
Kit tilted her head toward their vehicle. “We need to call the boss.”
Baz grimaced. “Rock, paper, scissors. Loser makes the call.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. I’ll make the call.” She waited until they were both in the car with the doors closed before dialing Navarro and putting him on speaker.
“It’s Kit and Baz,” she said when he answered. “Is anyone with you?”
“No,” Navarro replied slowly. “Why?”
“Because the victim was buried with pink handcuffs.”
There was a beat of silence. “Motherfucker,” Navarro growled. “Not again.”
“Yeah,” Baz agreed. “That was our reaction, too. She fits the profile—young, blond, and petite. She’s been in the ground a year or two based on decomp. ME’ll give us a range for time of death, but she’s wearing a class ring on a chain. Hopefully that’ll help narrow things down and maybe even ID her.”
“Any evidence of the doer?”
“A footprint,” Baz said. “Either the doer or the caller or both, if he called it in himself for the attention. But it’s probably a Top-Sider. Kit recognized the logo.”
“Hell, even I have a pair of those,” Navarro muttered. “That’s no help.”
“Not to trace him, no,” Kit agreed. “We’re going to pull missing-person reports for teenage blondes over the last few years and get IT to trace the anonymous call. What we wanted from you is direction on the pink handcuffs. Keep it confidential?”
“Absolutely. Last thing we need is for the press to get their hands on this. It’ll go viral and we’ll have copycats and fake sightings and... hell. ID the victim and trace the caller. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Yes, sir,” Kit said. “We’re heading back now.” She ended the call and looked at Baz, who was driving this week. “I don’t feel much like eating.” They’d missed lunch and it was now dinnertime, but she still wasn’t hungry.
Baz started the car. “Now that I’m not downwind from a body, my stomach is growling. We can order something back at the office.” He shot her an arch look. “You will eat.”
She didn’t argue because Baz was right. Plus he’d tell on her to Mom McK. “Fine.”
Accepting his victory with a smirk, he handed Kit his phone. “Text Marian, please. Tell her I’ll be late tonight.”
Kit did so, grateful that she didn’t have a spouse to disappoint with her late nights. “She says you owe her ‘stuff.’ She used quotes. Do I want to know?”
He chuckled, a rich sound that normally made Kit happy, but at this moment, it was TMI. “No, Kit. You do not want to know.”
“Old-people sex,” she teased with an exaggerated shudder. “Let me get Snickerdoodle settled for the night.”
She texted her sister Akiko: Caught a case. Can u keep Snick tonite? Her standard poodle Snickerdoodle would need to be walked long before she got home.
Akiko responded immediately. Will do. You okay?
