“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Dr. Connor said. “Sometimes you see shadow bruising that indicates the killer had to adjust his grip because he didn’t have the strength to maintain the initial choke hold. But in this case, I see none of that. I suspect this killer is physically fit and strangled her without hesitation.”

Dr. Connor then repositioned the head and reached for a scalpel. He positioned the sharp blade at the top of the breastbone and made the Y incision between and under the breasts.

For the next hour, Melina and Ramsey watched as Dr. Connor inspected and weighed the organs, took tissue samples, and then examined for signs of sexual assault. As he had theorized, the victim had been healthy, and there were no signs of intercourse.

When Melina and Ramsey walked out of the medical examiner’s office, she craved the warm sunshine on her face. “I need to call the tour company,” she said. “I want to talk to her boss.” She wondered how Elena was doing with her mother.

Ramsey checked his watch. “It’s eight thirty. They should be open by now.”

“I’ll head straight over and try to catch the crew before too many tourists swamp the place.” Next to learning about any potential stalkers, she wanted to establish a timeline for Jennifer Brown’s last days.

“I’m going to meet with the forensic department and see what evidence they were able to pull from Jennifer Brown’s house,” Ramsey said.

“We’ll reconvene later today.”

“Perfect.” Ramsey dropped Melina off at the TBI offices down the road. As he drove off, she shifted to her car and sat still for a moment, letting the day’s heat warm her chilled bones.

She dialed her mother’s number. “Mom, how’s it going?”

“Elena is still sleeping.”

“She’s doing all right?”

“The poor kid is exhausted. I wonder when she last had the chance to sleep this well. You were much the same when you came to live with us.”

“About that. The woman who had custody of Elena, Bonnie Guthrie, said she knows me.” Melina pinched the bridge of her nose, focusing her energy on a calm, even tone. “She said she was the one that left me on the side of the road outside of Nashville when I was a kid.”

The line was silent. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s my point. I think she’s telling the truth.”

“What kind of monster does that to a five-year-old girl?”

“Believe me, the world has plenty of them.”

“I’d like to meet this woman face to face.” A sharpness honed the edges of her mother’s words.

“You’ll have to stay clear for now.”

“Just let me know when I can.”

“Unsettled business, Mom?”

“Damn right.”

Using the same car dealer was not really smart. But it had been almost ten years since he had bought from the dealer. If a cop should come across this place, no one here would remember him from all those years ago.

He walked into the dealership as soon as it opened. A car salesman was at his side in minutes. An hour later, a deal was sealed, and he was driving off the lot in his new van.

It would take a smart and determined cop to connect all the dots, and so far, he had not crossed paths with any cop who had the staying power to track a guy like him. Cops were somewhat lazy by nature. Most were looking to get home alive and make it to retirement. They had no skin in the game.

Feeling confident, he pulled into a Hardee’s drive-through and ordered three burgers, a bucket of large fries, and a jumbo soda. He had not eaten much in the last few days. Worry always stole the appetite right out of him, and now that he had his van, he was feeling more like himself.

When he pulled up to the window, a pretty young girl with dark hair and a bright smile took his order and handed him back his change. Too bad his van was not ready for her yet.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he said.

“Have a nice day.”

“Always do.”

He drove to the center of a large retail parking lot and sat, eating his burgers first. Second, he ate the fries one by one, and then he drank the soda. It was a quirk of his and never varied.

One food at a time. One woman at a time. Undivided attention was the best.

He dumped his trash in a grocery store trash can and then used their restroom. He washed his hands carefully and bought several protein bars and waters before sliding behind the wheel. He started the engine, savoring its hum. He had had his last van for over ten years. A lot of good memories, and if he thought too hard about it, he got emotional.

“No looking back.”

He switched on the radio and pulled out onto the highway, following it toward the interstate. He could have gone anywhere in the country. He had never hunted in the Southwest, and he imagined they grew more wholesome girls out there. He would not mind finding himself a big-busted beauty with full, round hips. A man needed something to hold on to.

As he was considering driving north versus south, he felt a pull west back to Nashville. His thoughts turned back to the brown-eyed girl who had taken one of his punches and come out swinging. Ms. Perky Breasts. She was unfinished business. He would start his search with the Mission.

Feeling excited, he cranked up the radio and turned northwest on I-75.

“Hang on, darling. Daddy’s gonna fix up his van just for you. And once I find you, we’re going to have the best party you ever did attend.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Thursday, August 27, 10:00 a.m.

Melina made her way back across the Cumberland River into Nashville and down to Lower Broadway. Warm summer days brought tourists out in droves, and today was no exception. The streets would be filled within the hour with people dressed in shorts and newly purchased Nashville T-shirts, eating ice cream and carrying bags filled with their latest souvenirs.

She drove down the center of Lower Broadway until it fed into First Street, which skimmed along the Cumberland River.

Melina found parking across the street and jogged quickly to the Nashville Tours address. As she drew closer, she saw the red, white, and blue trailer. OPEN flags flapped by the front sales window occupied by a guy who looked too old to be summer help. Gray hair swept back in a ponytail with a matching handlebar mustache made him look like a walrus.

She waited as a couple of women dressed as tourists paid for the ten o’clock tour. When they were done, she held up her badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Jennifer Brown.”

“I have a few questions myself,” the man said. “She didn’t show up for her scheduled tours and I haven’t seen her since.”

“What was the last day you saw her?”

He shoved out a sigh as he stared at a paper calendar in the booth. “Sunday, August sixteenth. She worked double shifts that day. She was supposed to work a big tour the following Monday afternoon but didn’t show. So if you see her, tell her she’s fired.”

“Your name, sir?” she asked.

“Sean Terrell.” He dropped his gaze and shuffled through the morning receipts. “I own Nashville Tours.”

“Sean, Jennifer was murdered.”

Sean’s sour face softened as he lowered the slips of paper. “Dead? Shit. I thought she just blew the job off.”

“We believe she died sometime around August seventeenth or eighteenth. And you’re sure you saw her on the sixteenth?”

“Yeah. She picked up her paycheck.” He rubbed his hand over his mustache in what she guessed was a common expression of frustration. “She could be a flake but was nice to everyone. Who would want to kill her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. How many tours did Jennifer take the week leading up to the sixteenth?”

“Close to twenty. She was my busiest tour guide. She’s real popular with the guests. They liked it when she sang. She had dreams of making it big like half the other folks in this town.”

“I understand she liked to travel with bands.”

“She used to do it a lot, but in the last year not as much. Money and tips are too good giving tours and she’s getting a little old.”

“She was thirty-nine.”

He held up his hand. “I’m not saying she’s old, but on the concert circuit a lot of those girls are barely eighteen. Hard to compete. And don’t get your back up with me. Just relaying what she told me.”

“I get it. Did anyone on the tours take a particular interest in her?”

“I don’t follow our buses.”

“If a woman is going to tell you she’s washed up at thirty-nine, she’s going to say something about a customer hitting on her.”

“We have a strict no-touching policy. All our guides are instructed to call the cops if a guest gets handsy.”

“I get it. But I’m thinking this guy’s attention would have been welcomed. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his late thirties and a big guy. Strong. Maybe even charming.” One of the tour buses pulled up.

“Let me get this group unloaded and the next tour going.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Sean jogged over to the bus and exchanged glances with the tour guide as she readied to board the bus. The woman was tall, lean, and appeared to be in her midforties. She was dressed in country-western garb and reminded Melina of vintage Opryland.

Melina held up her badge. “Got a second? Ms. . . . ?”

“Jefferson. Dolly Jefferson. This must be about Jennifer.” She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit the tip and inhaled.