Makeovers Can Be Murder

Chapter 8

The predawn scene that morning looked like many I′d covered in the past: police units stopped at crazy angles at the four points of an intersection, strobe lights throbbing through the mizzle; a luxury sedan-a Mercedes SL-that had its nose wrapped around a light pole; and under a dripping rain hood, peering through the cracked-open window of my Z4, a traffic cop who looked like he′d rather be walking the day beat.

″Lady, why didn′t you pay attention to my signal?″ Spittle blended with the rain runoff from the patrolman′s hood. ″It meant ′turn this damned car around and head the other way!′″

Lowering the window some more, I said, ″I′m a friend of Shaina Miller. She asked for me. I′m Kate Gallagher, and I′m also a reporter for Channel Twelve. But I′m here as a personal friend for her, not professionally.″

The cop blinked. Then grunted. ″Stand by right here.″

As my message got passed up a daisy chain of uniforms, I looked around for Jana or any young girl who might be her daughter, Shaina. But other than the emergency workers, there was no one in sight.

The message finally reached a cluster of emergency workers who stood huddled at the far side of the intersection. They were standing in a semicircle around a blue tarp that three patrolmen had spread out and were holding aloft with their hands several feet above the pavement, as if trying to protect the ground from the rain. A man in a dark rain poncho was half kneeling and shining a torchlight down at something on the asphalt. I couldn′t see what he was looking at.

Another man in rain gear leaned away from the others and gave me a come on over wave. It was Detective Luke Petronella, a colleague of Jonathan′s.

In Homicide.

Ignoring the traffic cop, I abandoned the car. Below my reporter′s trench coat, my feet hit a puddle and instantly got drenched. The bottoms of my sweatpants sagged around my ankles as I jogged toward Luke.

The detective hurried forward to intercept me before I could reach the nucleus of the activity.

″Luke? Why are you here? What′s going on?″ I could feel the pressure of the next horrible question in my eyes.

That′s when I caught my first glimpse of a still white form on the pavement, underneath the tent of blue plastic that the patrol cops were holding up. It was a woman′s tiny form. I couldn′t see her head, which was covered in a sheet. Her arms and legs were crumpled and spread akimbo across the pavement, bent at weird angles like a doll that had been flung from a speeding car. A pair of tanned legs protruded from below the covering. She was wearing familiar-looking white slides-one of them hanging askew off a twisted ankle-and matching Bermuda shorts. They looked like my friend Jana′s shoes and shorts.

Confusion set in. I took a lurching step back. At the same time my mind scrambled for a way to reject what I was seeing.

″No, Luke.″ My hand flew up to cover my mouth. ″That can′t be Jana Miller. Please tell me that′s not my friend.″

Through the slit in his rain gear, Luke reached for my hand. ″I′m sorry, Kate,″ he said. ″A car jacker jumped her car when she was driving with her daughter. She managed to push her daughter out about a quarter mile from here, then apparently she fought with the guy until he plowed into that light pole over there. Then he must′ve gotten mad and pumped two bullets into the side of her head. She had no chance.″

It′s Jana. She′s dead. Jana. Is. Dead.

Each awful word drove a furrow from one side of my brain to the other, until it crashed against the confines of my skull. For a moment I couldn′t suck in any air-the pressure inside my chest cavity had escaped with a sudden release of breath. Bending over at the waist, I hung my head low and tried to recoup some precious oxygen. It felt as if a chunk of cement was blocking my throat, preventing airflow.

Luke placed his arm under my elbow. Like an iron T beam, for a moment his support was all that held me steady.

With my head still hanging near my knees, I craned my neck up to look at Jana again. The sight of her body lying on the pavement-soaked through despite the protective tarp that the patrolmen were holding above her-practically drove me into a frenzy.

″Why don′t they put her into an ambulance now, Luke?″ I pleaded with him, uncomfortably aware that my tone sounded nearly hysterical. ″She′s getting all soaked and cold down there on the ground. She shouldn′t be put through this.″

″Kate, there′s nothing we can do for her anymore, ″ Luke said. ″My job now is to find who did this and put him in jail. Please let me call in a grief counselor for you.″ His normally brash, sarcastic voice was unusually gentle. I knew I was seeing his homicide-cop bedside manner.

″I know, Luke.″

Hold on, Kate; the words flooded through my ear canal. It sounded like Jana′s voice, as if she′d just stood up and shouted at me. Hold on, dammit. My daughter needs you right now.

It took a huge effort to straighten up. ″Where′s Jana′s daughter, Shaina? My studio told me she called from here.″ My voice sounded strange and flat in my ears. But at least I′d stopped groping for air.

″She′s okay-she has some bumps and bruises from being pushed out of the car. The EMTs gave her something to get her calmed down, and now she′s on her way to Mercy.″

As I stood staring wordlessly at Jana′s body, Luke gave me an appraising look. ″Shaina was not in any shape to identify her mother′s body,″ he said. ″I know it′s a bad time, but I was wondering…″

″I can identify her,″ I said, again in that flat-line voice.

″It′s just a formality because we found her rental-car contract in the car. Are you sure you can you handle this, Kate?″

″I said I can do it, Luke.″

The detective led me over to the blue tarp, where Jana′s body lay. A woman wearing plastic gloves and a blue CSI jumpsuit nodded to me. I vaguely recognized her from covering other crime scenes. She knelt down next to Jana′s body and pulled the sheet gently back from her head.

Jana′s face was resting on its right side, facing toward me. Her eyes were open and sightless, her coppery short hair matted with dark blood that looked as thick as kindergarten paste. I′d once heard from an investigator that head blood is thicker than regular blood.

″That′s her-that′s Jana,″ I said.

The CSI woman lowered the sheet over Jana′s face. ″Your friend must have been a brave lady,″ she said, leaning back on her heels. ″I heard she got her daughter out of the car before she got shot.″

″I heard that, too. Thanks.″

Go to Mercy now… you need to be with Shaina. Again, I had the eerie sensation of hearing Jana′s voice in my ear. I turned toward my car.

The area surrounding the blue tarp suddenly lit up with a spotlight. I turned and saw a Channel Twelve broadcast van pulling up next to my car. They′d turned on the side floodlights, preparing to shoot the scene.

Luke swore under his breath. ″Are you on the job right now, Kate? Because if you are-″

″No, I′m not,″ I replied. ″I′m heading over to Mercy right now to find Shaina. The studio assigned the story to someone else.″

″Who?″

As if in answer, the side door of the van slid back with a bang, and a videographer jumped out with his camera already rolling. Behind him, Lainey crouched in the van′s doorway surveying the crime scene. I saw her neck arch back in surprise as she recognized me.

I looked at Luke. ″You′ll have to deal with Lainey, I′m afraid.″

Luke shot a sour glance at Lainey. ″No, I won′t,″ he said. ″That reporter really burned one of our guys on a story she did the other day. I′m not going to give her anything.″

″Dandy by me, Luke. Handle her however you want.″

Keeping my head down, I headed toward my car, hoping against hope that I′d make it to the Z4 before Lainey caught up with me. I slid into the seat and started to slam the door.

″Kate!″ Lainey′s hand caught hold of the top of the door′s window. She held it in place with an iron grip while deftly inserting a hip between the door and me. ″What′s going on? That Mercedes over there was the car that was jacked, right? Why are you here?″

″I′m here on a personal matter, Lainey. The detective in charge is right over there. Luke Petronella. You can get all the details from him.″

″Give me a break, Kate. This is the second carjacking this week. The fourth this month. Who was killed? I know you know what′s going on. Help me out here with a little professional courtesy. Okay?″

″They′re not releasing the victim′s identity yet, Lainey. You′ll have to wait. You know the drill.″

″Forget the drill, Kate. This is a huge story, and you know it. So one person died? Was it someone you know, or are you working some angle of your own on this story?″

When I didn′t reply, her mouth twisted into a snarl. ″I know you′re all tight-ass with the cops because of your boyfriend,″ she said. ″But don′t think you can hog every one of their stories that comes down the pike.″

I wondered whether she′d chosen the verb ″hog″ on purpose. Probably.

″Jesus Christ. I′m not trying to steal your story, Lainey. I said I′m here because it′s personal,″ I snapped. ″You′ll have to talk to the cops yourself. In fact,″ I said, my words picking up volume and heat, ″why don′t you go wiggle your butt right over there to the homicide detective and bat your eyes at him? I′m sure you′ll get everything you want. Isn′t that how you score most of your stories?″

Lainey flinched back. Her eyes narrowed, and then she took a step back from the car.

I closed the door with as much force as I could manage, then threw the Z4 into reverse. The tires screeched on the wet asphalt as I backed away.

Craning my neck to look over my shoulder, I steered the car in a reverse three-point turn. As I headed down the street and away from the scene, through the rearview mirror I could see Lainey still standing in the road, staring after me.

So okay; the ass-wiggling thing was a cheap shot I′d thrown in at the end. It wasn′t even accurate, really. Lainey worked hard for her stories. But I still didn′t like her. So sue me.

I knew I′d just turned a competitor into an enemy. But at the moment I had much more important things on my mind.

Right now I had to get to Shaina, Jana′s daughter.