“He just needs to blow off steam.  And he tips well if he’s handled right.”

“Fine…”

Ginger walked out of the restaurant kitchen to the dining room.  For slow days at lunch, they had a bartender to handle the full bar and skipped having an ice cream person… a Soda Jerk.  At lunch, there would only be a few requests for alcohol, but most of the ice cream people weren’t trained to mix drinks, and there were always a few requests. 

“Ginger Phogg,” the man seated at the bar said as she walked behind the counter, “they told me you weren’t here today.  I guess their incompetence extends to the inability to read a schedule, too.”

“I’m filling in for someone… I was running late.  Rough morning, Mr. Abbott?”

“No… nothing unusual,” he replied. 

“For lunch do you want your usual?”

“Tell me what you think my usual is…”

“Double burger, medium, cheddar and bacon.  Brown mustard, light ketchup, mayo and diced onions.  Fries, extra crispy.  Did you want a vanilla shake, too?”

“Are you the only person here that has a clue, Ginger?” Kyle replied, a weak smile on his lips.

“I just got lucky,” she smiled in return. 

Ginger entered his order into the system.  She turned around and started his shake after getting him a glass of water, light on the ice as he preferred it.  As she waited for the food to come out, she prepped a few soft drink orders that came up on the printer, ignoring the icy glare from the bartender that thought she was out to muscle in on his tip-out at the end of the shift. 

A few minutes later, the day manager walked out with the food order for Mr. Abbott.  He handed it across the far end of the bar to Ginger.  She carried it to her customer and slid the plate in front of him. 

“Here you go, Mr. Abbott.  Enjoy,” she said. 

“How many times have I told you to call me Kyle?  And what makes you think you can tell me to enjoy it?” he asked.  His eyes were hard, and he barely concealed the sneer on his face. 

“Sorry, Sir.”

Ginger backed away to give him some space and clean a few things behind the bar.  She prepped a couple of sundaes for the waitstaff as she passed the time. 

Kyle was halfway through his burger when he called Ginger back over.  “Are you sure you put the order in right?” he barked. 

She glanced down at the burger… pink center, perfect medium.  “I’m sorry.  I can get a new one.”

“Whatever…  Nevermind.” he mumbled. 

“Sir, I can take that to the kitchen, and have it redone,” Dave said, his voice chipper as he started reaching for the plate with the offending food.

“Back the hell up and get away from my food, Slim,” Kyle barked, causing Dave to jump back. 

“I’ll take care of it, Dave,” Ginger said.  She nodded her head toward the end of the bar. 

“Leave the food… I’ll just deal with it,” Kyle said quietly to Ginger. 

“If that’s what you want, Kyle.”

He gave her the hint of a warm smile before returning to his fries. 

“Dave, leave him to me,” Ginger said tersely to Dave a moment later.  “I have this.”

“If his food is bad…” Dave started. 

“His food is fine, Dave.  Everything is perfect.  It was out fast, and it was right.  He just needs to blow off steam.  I have him… don’t worry about it, ok?” 

Dave shook his head and walked away as Ginger went back to check on Kyle.  He grunted and complained as she refilled his glass, making sure to keep the ice under half of the glass as she refilled it. 

A few minutes later he called her back over.  “You got my check?” he asked. 

She slipped it out of her pocket, in the folder, and set it in front of him.  He quickly shuffled some bills into the folder, turned and stalked out the door.  Ginger picked the folder up and pocketed the bills before heading to the register to pay his tab.  She pulled a twenty out of the wad and stuffed it into the tip-out jar for the bartender as he looked on.

“Dave, I’m out.  I’ll see you tomorrow at the regular time,” Ginger said, walking through the kitchen. 

“What’s the deal?” he asked, catching up to her. 

“Mr. Abbott was having a bad day at work and just needed to blow off some steam.  If he ever comes in and asks for me… just call me.  I don’t mind.”

“Why does he want to deal with you so much?” Dave asked. 

“Because no matter how rude he gets, I smile and mostly leave him alone.  He’ll be in tomorrow, too, and we’ll talk for a little while.  He’ll apologize for being mean today, but I know he didn’t mean it.”

“How do you know?”

She slipped the five one-hundred-dollar bills from her pocket and showed them to Dave.  “He won’t tip anyone else like that.  A couple of people have tried.”

“Why you, though?”

“No clue.  But if he wants to complain about the food, then tip me like that, I’m good with it.”

“FireFly, right?” the older man said.

“Who’s asking?”

“Gunnery Sergeant William Grafton, Retired.  I was called Big Red at one point in my life.  Force Recon.”

“Pleased to meet you Big Red.  I’ve actually heard of you.  Must have been one hell of a Marine for you to be mentioned in BUDS,” Taylor said as he put his hand out to shake.  “Was there something you wanted to talk with me about, Sir?”

“You can call me Gunny.  And yes, I want to talk with you about a job. I have a friend that needs a security specialist, and you might be uniquely qualified.”

“You do realize that I have an OTH Discharge, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I know why.  I don’t care.  You were a solid team member and,” as he tipped his head toward the table of sailors there on his behalf, “your team feels the same way.  I’ll be over in the corner.  When you are done with your party, come on over and we can talk.”

Gunny paid the tab for Taylor and sent another round to the table before returning to his small group back in the corner of the bar. 

***

“Wait, seriously, Taylor, Big Red approached you at the bar about a job?” PO1 Todd Bouthillier said.  “My dad knew a guy that went to work for him back in the day.  Dude is loaded now.  No matter what, you need to talk with him.”

Cory took a long pull from his beer.  That had been an hour ago.  He glanced up in the mirror behind the bartender and saw that Grafton was still sitting in his corner.  There were a man and a woman with him at the table.  As his friends filtered out, Cory walked to the back of the bar and dropped into the open seat across from Grafton, between the other man and the woman. 

“You wanted to talk, Gunny?” Taylor said.  His personal defenses were up.  He didn’t like it when people he didn’t know knew him… and knew private details about him. 

“Would you prefer we call you Cory, Taylor, FireFly or something else?” Gunny asked. 

“What I would prefer is to know how and why you have been digging into me… Sir.”  The flash in Taylor’s eyes displayed his anger. 

“Fair enough.  The ‘how’ is that I have access to a lot of people in various echelons of special forces.  I have helped them, and they keep an eye out for people with special talents.”

“So, I have a special talent?  What might that be?” he asked. 

“Hi… Cory…  My name is Melody Grafton.  I went through your records and talked to a few people.  Dirk,” she motioned to the other man sitting with them, “has an employee that needs a bodyguard.  She will need someone that is close, but that won’t become a love interest, if you get my meaning.”

“So… because you found out I’m gay?”

“Honestly, that is part of it.   The rest of it is that the two of you are very likely to hit it off,” Melody replied. 

“What if we don’t ‘hit it off’?” Cory asked. 

“That’s a fair question,” Gunny replied.  “I’m aware of your situation.  No matter what, some friends of mine will be working to correct the ‘Other Than Honorable’.  In addition, you will be paid for a year.  If it doesn’t work out, we’ll give you a generous severance package.”

Cory looked at Big Red.  The older man didn’t shy away from his glare.  Instinctually he trusted the retired Marine.  Everything he’d heard about him pointed to him being a man of his word.  His eyes moved to the woman… Melody Grafton.  She had long dark hair, streaked with gray.  She sat close enough to Big Red to touch him.  As he looked her over, she also didn’t avert her eyes, but instead challenged him.  She looked like she could see into him.  He knew the look… he’d seen it with interrogators.  It was the way they looked at people they were questioning.  She was measuring him every bit as much as he was measuring her.

“I guess I’m in,” Cory replied. 

“I’m Dirk Bryce.  Glad to have you aboard,” Dirk said, rising to shake Cory’s hand.  “Welcome to Cumulus Cloud Systems.”

***

Melody Grafton spent two weeks working with Cory Taylor.  She taught him everything he needed to know in order to get in good with his protectee.  He already had most of the pieces in place. 

“Cory, part of the deal is that she will not know you are protecting her.  If she thought you were, we feel that she would limit your access, making it hard to complete our mission.”

“Roger that, Ma’am.”

“Just Melody, Cory.”

***

Jenny Coolidge walked into her boss’s office and sat down in the only available chair.  She didn’t recognize the man sitting in the other chair, but she did notice that he was quite attractive and had perked up when she entered the room. 

“Jenny, this is Cory.  He’s going to be your new right hand… your Administrative Assistant.”

“Hi, Cory,” Jenny said, leaning over to shake his hand.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Coolidge.”

“First off, you are gonna have to call me Jenny.  No formality.  Cool?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Jeez, Cory.  How old are you?  I’m twenty.  You have at least a couple of years on me.  Calling me ma’am isn’t going to win you any favors.”

“Sorry… habit.”

The three of them talked for a few minutes before Jenny took Cory back to her office and helped him get set up to be her assistant.  After a few hours, the two of them went out for celebratory drinks. 

Approaching the end of the driveway, she cranked the wheel to the left, sliding out onto the Ridgeback Road.  She punched the clutch and pulled the shifter back into second gear.  Glancing in the rearview mirror she saw the black Mercedes gaining on her. 

The road curved sharply to the right and dropped just ahead.  She jammed the brakes, feeling the ABS vibrating the pedal as she entered the turn.  The car rotated through the turn, then as she passed the apex, she eased into the throttle.

Another shot punched into the right door.

Grabbing third gear, she pulled out a little distance on the black Mercedes.  She lost sight of the other car in the bends coming down the mountain, crossing the yellow line at will to keep up her speed. 

Another shot rang out from the rear as the Mercedes slid sideways around curve behind her, the passenger waving a rifle out the window.  Helena grabbed fourth gear and her speed closed in on one-forty before she speed-shifted into fifth gear. 

She wanted to call her husband, but she couldn’t take her hands off the wheel for even a moment.  At least until she got to a straight.  But every time the road straightened out the Mercedes was there. 

There was an unexpected dip in the road, tossing the car off balance.  The bend in the road was ever so slight, but it was enough for the Corvette to careen out of control.  The rear end swung right, then snapped back left, throwing the car at the guardrail.  It clipped the end of the barrier and spun over the edge, sliding toward the lower switchback.  Just before getting to the lower road, a rear tire grabbed traction on a rock jutting out from the side of the steep drop-off.  The car flipped over, landing on the roof. 

The convertible offered no protection to Helena as the car slid upside-down off the other side of the road, plunging and twisting again over the cliff.  A moment later it slammed into another rock outcropping, coming to rest on its side, Helena’s torn body hanging from the seatbelt. 

Approaching the end of the driveway, she cranked the wheel to the left, sliding out onto the Ridgeback Road.  She punched the clutch and pulled the shifter back into second gear.  Glancing in the rearview mirror she saw the black Mercedes gaining on her. 

The road curved sharply to the right and dropped just ahead.  She jammed the brakes, feeling the ABS vibrating the pedal as she entered the turn.  The car rotated through the turn, then as she passed the apex, she eased into the throttle.

Another shot punched into the right door.

Grabbing third gear, she pulled out a little distance on the black Mercedes.  She lost sight of the other car in the bends coming down the mountain, crossing the yellow line at will to keep up her speed. 

Another shot rang out from the rear as the Mercedes slid sideways around curve behind her, the passenger waving a rifle out the window.  Helena grabbed fourth gear and her speed closed in on one-forty before she speed-shifted into fifth gear. 

She wanted to call her husband, but she couldn’t take her hands off the wheel for even a moment.  At least until she got to a straight.  But every time the road straightened out the Mercedes was there. 

There was an unexpected dip in the road, tossing the car off balance.  The bend in the road was ever so slight, but it was enough for the Corvette to careen out of control.  The rear end swung right, then snapped back left, throwing the car at the guardrail.  It clipped the end of the barrier and spun over the edge, sliding toward the lower switchback.  Just before getting to the lower road, a rear tire grabbed traction on a rock jutting out from the side of the steep drop-off.  The car flipped over, landing on the roof. 

The convertible offered no protection to Helena as the car slid upside-down off the other side of the road, plunging and twisting again over the cliff.  A moment later it slammed into another rock outcropping, coming to rest on its side, Helena’s torn body hanging from the seatbelt. 

***

Security swept into Deke Swanson’s office.  Two burly guards remained at the door, while Swantech’s Chief of Security rushed to the window to drop the blinds.  Another one of the guards moved Deke from his desk and herded him out of his office. 

“Deke, we need to move you to a more secure location.  We have a credible threat report.  I have a team on the way to pick Jimmy up from Kindergarten, and we have another headed to the cabin to pick up Helena,” the Chief of Security said. 

“What the hell is going on, Owen?” Deke responded.  He had enemies, but in all his time, he’d never had his security team react like this. 

“One of our government contacts called in a tip.  There is a lot of chatter about a hit on you today.  We need to take this seriously.”

Deke allowed himself to be shuttled out of his office, grabbing his external hard drive and a folio with notes in it before he left.  Everything else he would be able to access on any computer in the building. 

“I’m with you, Owen.  Let’s go to the cubicle farm.  I want updates on Jimmy and Helena as soon as you have them.”

“You got it, Deke.  We should have both of them in fifteen to twenty minutes.”

Deke and Owen walked down a level to the second floor.  In the middle there was a large open area ringed with management offices.  They scouted a couple of empty desks and Deke set up shop to get back to work.  He had absolute trust in Owen Rogers.  His security chief had been his friend since college.  The two men had even been roommates briefly before Deke married Helena.  If Owen was worried, Deke was smart enough to be worried as well. 

“Deke, we have Jimmy.  He’s with Taki’s team,” Owen said, referring to Jill Takanata, one of the physical security team leaders.  She was Jimmy’s favorite, having an innate ability to connect with the five-year-old.  “But we haven’t been able to get Helena on either the house phone or her cell.  I dispatched a chopper to the cabin, and they should be there any minute.”

“Thanks, Owen.”

It wasn’t unusual for Helena to go dark.  She regularly forgot her phone, and often, when she was volunteering at the homeless shelter, she would leave it in her purse, locked away in an office.  Deke didn’t know her schedule for the day off the top of his head, and just assumed she left her phone sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Owen, have you called the shelter?  She might be there today.”

“I’ll double check.  She usually isn’t there when you guys are out at the cabin… but you never know.”

Owen returned a few minutes later.  The expression he wore wasn’t hopeful.  “She’s not at the cabin, and she was expected at the shelter today, but hasn’t shown up.  The doorman confirmed she hadn’t been at the condo.  I have Garcia doing a trace on her cell phone.  It’s probably nothing and it might tick her off, but I think it’s the right call.”

“It is the right call, Owen.  She’s probably shopping or something and she’s going to flip when your guys show up, but I’ll gladly take the heat,” Deke told him. 

Owen disappeared again, heading to one of the offices on the far side of the cubicle farm.  He stepped into Raul Garcia’s office.  Raul was one of the company hackers, and he routinely hacked location data from cell phones.  It only took him a few minutes to ping the last location from Helena Swanson’s phone. 

“Owen,” Garcia said with a dour expression, “I have her last location, but her phone has been inoperable for almost thirty minutes.  You need to get people in the area.”

“What’s going on, Raul.  What aren’t you telling me?” Owen asked. 

“Just before her phone went dark, it was doing one-fifty.  I’m overlaying the data on a map as we speak, but I can’t think of anything good that would cause that.”

A moment later the flatscreen on the wall behind Owen lit up with a map and a series of yellow dots, showing the pings from the phone.  It lined up with Ridgeback Road, near the cabin, until it turned and sharply crossed a series of switchbacks. 

“My location data is good, but satellite drift could make it off by as much as fifty yards.  She could be sitting on the side of the road here, or here,” Garcia said, pointing to the map on the TV, “but I don’t think so.  I think she is right in the middle.  You need your guys there fast, man.”

Owen nodded and headed back out to Deke on the floor.  As he walked, he dialed his phone, calling Dutch Slater, the team leader at the cabin with the helicopter.  As soon as the other man answered the phone, Owen quickly brought him up to speed.  He read off the coordinates that Garcia had given him a moment before.  “Go get her, Dutch.  Make sure she’s safe, Brother.”  He rounded the corner and came face to face with Deke, his son Jimmy standing next to him, Taki a few feet away. 

“Taki,” Owen said, “why don’t you take Jimmy down to the break room.  I hear there’s cookies and cream in stock.”

“Yes, sir,” Taki said.  She could see from Owen’ face that this wasn’t about ice cream. 

“What’s going on, Owen?” Deke said the moment Jimmy was out of sight. 

“I don’t know, boss.  Garcia got a location for her phone, but it had been off for half an hour.  The location is between the switchbacks, up by the cabin.  And just before it went offline, her phone was doing a hundred and fifty miles an hour.  Dutch’s team is doing an air sweep and then they are going to comb the spot her phone is supposed to be in.”

The two men sat down at the closest desk.  Realization caught up to Deke that there wasn’t a good reason for anything he’d just heard.  He had tried to rationalize each piece, and separately he could explain them… Helena liked to speed, that was why she had a hot rod Corvette.  The phone was tossed out of the car and tumbled down the steep hillside.  But together they didn’t make sense. 

Owen’s phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, “What do you have for me Dutch?  Is Helena there?”

…

“Shit.  Can you…”

…

“We’ll meet you there,” Owen said before he hung up the phone. 

“What is it, Owen?”

“They found her.  Her car was laying on its side against a rock.  Helena is seriously injured.  He has two trained medics on his team, and they think the best thing is to transport her via chopper to Valley Medical Center.  We need to meet them there.”

with a body covered in a sheet.  He peeled the sheet back, revealing her face. 

Melody stepped back.  “Yes… I’m fairly certain that is her.”

Marlow started to slide the body back in.

“Wait, may I take a closer look?”

Melody leaned over and looked at Karie’s body.  She looked at her face… her eyelids.  “Can I pull the sheet down further?”

“I suppose,” Marlow said, hesitantly. 

Melody pulled the sheet down to Karie’s chest, then picked up the side and looked at her hand.  She covered her hand again and went to look at her toes.  She rushed back up and pulled the sheet down a little more. 

“Miss Jenkins?” Phillips said.

“I’m sorry… something isn’t right.”  She pulled the sheet back over the young woman’s body.  “It’s her, Karen Adams, but he did something to her, I think.  Can we talk… somewhere else?”

“Certainly,” Marlow said, leading her from the room again.  “How about my office?” 

As they rode the elevator up to the Detective’s Bullpen, Phillips offered her coffee, which she refused.  When they entered Marlow’s office, he held the chair as he beckoned her to sit down. 

“So, what seems to be the issue, Miss Jenkins?  You said something was wrong.” 

“I’m sorry, Detective Marlow.  Karie and I had gotten our nails done last Saturday.  We were doubling with a guy she knew and his friend, and anyway… we got our nails done.”  Melody held out her hand, showing the detectives her fingernails.  “They were the same color… Karie’s and mine.”

The two men looked at her expectantly.  Both leaned in.  “And?” Marlow said. 

“Hers are a different color.  And they are flawless.”  Melody held her hand up again.  “See these little chips?  And the edges are worn.  Hers weren’t like that.  And her toenails were painted to match… which they weren’t when she left yesterday.”

“You think that means something… the color of her toenails?” Phillips said, raising an eyebrow.

“It is something.  Either she went and got a manicure and pedicure after she was picked up for the date and before she was murdered, or someone gave her one after.  And did you see her make-up?  It was flawless.  Like it was fresh.  Her lipstick didn’t even look like it was blotted.”

“You think the killer put on make-up and did her nails after killing her?”  Marlow asked.

“I saw in the paper that there had been other victims a few years ago.  Is there anything in the file about something similar?” Melody asked. 

“We’ll look into it, Miss Jenkins.  Thank you for coming in to identify her.  I’ll have Detective Phillips drive you home.  If you could also give him the next of kin information for Miss Adams, we would appreciate it.”

Marlow and Phillips both rose.  Melody knew the interview was over and rose as well.  She followed Phillips through the labyrinthine corridors and back out to his car so that he could escort her home. 

***

The knock at the door startled Melody as she sat at the small kitchen table, her dinner and her biology notebook spread out in front of her.  She had a test Monday, and she knew she needed to do really well on it to keep up her grade point average. 

She jumped up and ran to the door.  “Who is it?”

“Miss Jenkins?  I’m Harv Adams, Karie’s father.”

“Oh, my gosh, one second.”

She pulled the chain and unlocked the door.

“Hi Mr. Adams.  Please call me Melody.  I’m so sorry about what happened to Karie.  I only moved in a few months ago, but she was really nice.  It has been devastating.  I can only imagine what you are going through.”

“Thank you, Melody,” he said.  He wore a smile, but she could see the sadness and pain in his eyes.  Eyes that were the same blue as his daughter. 

“Please, come in.  Have a seat.  Would you like anything?  Coffee, a soft drink?”

“No, but thank you, Melody.  I just wanted to talk with you.  I wanted to know if there was anything that the police didn’t tell me.  You knew her… you lived with her.  Maybe something about her boyfriend.”

“I don’t think she really had a boyfriend.  She dated around a little. The last guy she went out with… I think his name was John… they had been out a couple of times, I think, but we doubled the Saturday two weeks ago, and she was with a different young man.”

“I see…  And you didn’t think it was odd that she wasn’t home the next morning?  The police detective told me you didn’t contact them until the night after she was killed.”

“I waitress at the café around the corner, and I usually leave a little before five in the morning.  We almost always see each other around dinner, but especially if she had a date, I would be asleep when she got home and gone before she woke up.”

“I’m sorry, Melody.  I think that came out wrong.  It wouldn’t have made a difference if you’d called them the night before.  I’ve read the full report, and the coroner estimated that she died between nine and midnight.”

“It’s ok, Mr. Adams.  I understand.”  The last thing she wanted to do was tell a grieving father that his daughter regularly didn’t come home until the morning after dates, nor that it wasn’t just one boyfriend with whom she spent the night.  “And then the whole thing with the fingernails and make-up.  That weirded me out.”

“Fingernails and make-up?  That wasn’t in the report.”

“I told them when I went to identify her.  It looked like someone had just done her make-up, and I know that her fingernails and toenails were freshly painted.  They were a different color than when she left for her date.”

“That wasn’t in the report…”

“It might be nothing.  It was just something I noticed.  They said they were going to look into it.  Maybe the other girls were different,” Melody said. 

“May I make a long-distance call, Melody?” 

“Sure.  Please, be my guest.”

Harvey Adams picked up the phone and quickly dialed a long-distance number.  He sat there, drumming on the table as he waited for the answer, clearly a man unaccustomed to waiting. 

“This is Special Agent Harvey Adams, please put me through to Agent Sean Burke.”

…

“Burke, Adams.  I am talking with the young woman that lived with my daughter.  She mentioned a fresh manicure and pedicure on my daughter, and possibly freshly applied make-up.”

…

“Yeah, me too.”

…

“See if there is anything that hits anywhere with that in the description.”

…

“Thank you, Sean.  Yeah, the funeral is tomorrow, here.  I’ll call you in a few days to see what you find out.”

Harv Adams hung up the phone.  He wiped his hand over his face, leaving his eyes closed for a few moments.  When he opened them again, he had to wipe away the tears. 

“I guess you are in the FBI or something?” Melody said. 

“Yes.  Thirty-years.  I mostly teach now, but I used to be a field agent.”

“Please let me know if anything comes of that.  I’d like to know.”

“I will, Melody.  I need to go now, but I hope to see you tomorrow at the funeral.  There won’t be many there.  Just a few family, some close friends.  We’re having a wake in Chicago for her next week.  That’s where most of her friends will be.  This is where she always considered home, though.”

“I’ll be there, Mr. Adams.”

He rose from the couch and Melody gave him a long hug before he wiped his eyes, took a deep breath and headed out of the small apartment. 

***

She picked up a black dress in the morning to wear to the funeral that afternoon.  As he’d said, there were only a few people gathered in the small chapel.  Karie’s mother had passed away a couple of years before from cancer.  Her older brother, her father, her grandmother on her mother’s side, and a couple of cousins were all that were in attendance at the graveside service. 

“I assume you are Miss Jenkins,” Karie’s brother said, approaching her.  “I’m Karl.”

“Melody.”  He shook her offered hand. 

“Thank you for being here, Melody.  You might not know, but what you said to my father yesterday has really brought a change.  I flew out to Quantico to be with him after I heard, and for the last several days, he hadn’t slept or eaten.  Losing Mom was hard on him, and Karie was his favorite.  His little girl, you know?  But then yesterday, I guess you told him about something you saw.  My dad was back.  He has purpose.  Thank you.”

Melody reached out and hugged him.  “If there is anything I can do, Karl, I would love to… Karie was really nice.”

“Let me buy you dinner,” Karl said.  “We can talk about my sister.”

“Sure…  Let me go home and change.”

“I’ll pick you up in half an hour,” Karl said.  “And thank you for everything.” Melody slowly walked back to her car.  She was a little freaked out by Karie’s brother asking her out, basically at his sister’s funeral, but somehow, he’d managed to not sound creepy doing it.  And she thought he was really good-looking, in a bookish sort of way, which also happened to be her type.  Not terribly tall, and with a solid but not stocky build, short hair, glasses and the same pretty blue eyes as his father and sister, Karl Adams was exactly the kind of guy she liked to date.  Oddly, most of the guys that asked her out were more along the jock or partier type. 

Melody walked around looking, an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach.  It wasn’t the first time she’d had a gut-level feeling about something being wrong, and she prayed that she was wrong. 

After looking around the kitchen, she realized that what she really needed was a visit to the grocery store.  It would either be eggs for dinner, or a trek out of the building again.  After slinging eggs all morning, she decided that a trip to the store was in order… and since she had a pocket full of tips, maybe dinner out. 

***

She wasn’t normally a big consumer of newspapers, but as she made her way through the market, she dropped a fresh copy of the afternoon paper into her basket.  She made her way to the front of the store with the few items she needed, and quickly paid the cashier.  Luckily, the rain had stopped, and it was a short walk home. 

After unloading the small supply of groceries, she flopped onto the couch to rest and then start studying.  She hated biology with a passion… but it was a core class she had to get through. 

But before that, she picked up the newspaper. 

Crescent City Killer Strikes Again

That was a headline that grabbed her attention.  She hadn’t even noticed it just below the fold when she had picked the paper up.  Above the fold was a story about the problems at the Franklin National Bank, and how if it failed it would ripple across the economy. 

As she looked through the story that had caught her attention, she noted that a young woman, blonde, early to mid-twenties, had been murdered near Lee Circle.  She had been wearing a rose-colored skirt and ivory blouse and a jacket matching the skirt had been found nearby, but police were searching for a clue as to the woman’s identity.  The murder shared similarities to three other murders that had happened a couple of years prior. 

Melody leapt off the couch and ran into Karie’s room.  She flung open her closet and started digging through her outfits.  Karie had an outfit just like what had been described… and it was eight o’clock and there still hadn’t been word from her.  The skirt and jacket were nowhere to be found.

She ran back to the living room and looked for the article again.  They had a tip line, which she quickly dialed.

“My roommate hasn’t been here since yesterday, and she matches the description of the victim I saw in the paper,” she said to the person manning the phone bank. 

…

“Blonde, twenty-one, blue eyes.  Medium weight, tall… probably five-nine.  The jacket has brass buttons.”

…

“No, sometimes she isn’t at home overnight, but she didn’t take her notebook and she had a class today.”

…

“A little over twenty-four hours…  Yesterday about six.  She left with her boyfriend for dinner.”

…

“No… not really.  John something.  They had only gone out a couple of times.”

…

“Sure,” she finished, giving the detective her address. 

She collapsed back on the couch, worry washing over her like a wave.  She picked the paper back up and carefully read the description.  There had been no mention of the buttons in describing the jacket.  She wondered if it had been held back, the detective she had talked with was very interested in that detail. 

Thirty minutes later she tossed the biology notes back on the table as she was startled by a knock at the door. 

“Who is it?” she said through the door.

“Police, ma’am.  Is this Melody Jenkins?”

“Yes, just a moment.”  She unlocked the door, leaving the chain hooked.  When she glanced out, two men in suits were staring back, one holding his badge up.  “Hang on.”  She closed the door and undid the chain.  “Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” the shorter one said.  “I’m Detective Marlow, and this is Detective Phillips.  We wanted to follow up with you on your missing roommate.”

“It’s the button, isn’t it?” Melody asked, holding the eyes of Detective Marlow. 

“What makes you say that, Miss Jenkins?”

“Because it wasn’t in the paper.  As soon as I read it, I looked through the closet for that jacket.  It wasn’t there.  I had tried to find one just like it… hers was a little big for me… and I couldn’t.  But the way the shiny brass buttons looked… I remembered them.”

“Do you have any photographs of your roommate… Miss Karen Adams?”

“No, but she might have some pictures in her room.  Give me a moment and I can look.  And she goes by Karie.”  Melody walked out of the living room and walked into Karie’s rooms.  She quickly went through her bedside table and found a picture of her that was a few years old.  It was her with her family on vacation. 

When she came back to the living room, the two detectives were seated on the couch.  She handed Marlow the picture.  “There might be more… I think this one is about three years old.  I’m pretty sure that is her family… they were on vacation.”

“Can we keep this, Miss Jenkins?” Phillips asked. 

“If it were mine, I would gladly let you keep it.  I hope all of this is a big mix-up, and Karie walks through the door and rolls her eyes at me having been worried.”

“We understand… if she wasn’t the victim, she could certainly have the photograph back.  We would have no need of it.”

“Then, please… take it.”

“One other thing, Miss Jenkins, could you come with us to look at the victim to see if it is your friend?” Phillips asked. 

“I guess,” Melody replied, nervously.