“Men,” I corrected.
“Men? All of them?”
“According to Dr. Stowe. She’s got the known remains in the morgue.” Maybe it was a good thing all we had were a bunch of bones. Our morgue definitely didn’t have enough freezer space for eleven bodies, plus the other random deaths that required an autopsy. The inn was at capacity.
Becks quieted, her eyes distant. I took the opportunity to pop the top on the soda and take a large drink. I swear I could feel the caffeine hit my system. Two cheese crackers quickly followed the soda’s path.
“Do you think they’re related?” Becks asked, voice hushed as if speaking too loudly might make it true. “I mean, that’s a hell of a coincidence to find two body dump sites within what…twenty miles of each other?”
“Eighteen,” I corrected. I took another drink of soda, buying my brain a few seconds to catch up. Unfortunately, those added seconds didn’t offer any more clarity. “We’re keeping them as separate cases for now, but that door is definitely open.” It wasn’t just open. I’d mentally set up a granite doorstop to prevent it from closing.
“If they are related, that’s one hell of a complicated profile to try and piece together.”
Again, Becks wasn’t wrong. “I’m going to ask the captain about pulling in outside resources. I think—” My phone rang. Eyebrows pinched, I stared at the number and area code. It wasn’t local, but it looked familiar and…New York. It was the area code of the police precinct involved in Clarissa Peyton’s case.
“I need to take this,” I said by way of apology.
“No worries. I’ll keep working on the list of ladies.” Becks gave my shoulder a squeeze as she walked by.
Pressing the accept button, I answered, “This is Detective Franklin O’Hare.”
“Sheriff Abraham Benowitz. I believe you spoke with Deputy Cohen a few days ago regarding a missing persons case.”
I reached for a nearby paper and pen, pulling them close and clicking the pen. “Clarissa Peyton. I’m afraid we found her remains.”
“That’s what Cohen said.” Sheriff Benowitz’s tired sigh blew through the line. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that. Deputy Cohen notified the family. I offered, but he was the one working the case and had grown a rapport with the family. Cohen wanted to be the one to break the news.”
I sympathized and also understood Deputy Cohen’s motivation. “I understand. And I’m very sorry the outcome wasn’t positive.”
“At least her body’s been found. How in the hell it got all the way to Mississippi, I have no idea. When Miss Peyton’s family reported her missing, they brought up their concerns that it could be the ex. He’d been stalking and harassing Clarissa. She filed numerous reports and did everything right, but legally there just wasn’t much we could do.”
I considered bringing up Boone’s involvement and the statement we’d gotten from Clarissa herself but decided to feel the sheriff out more first. Experience told me the good sheriff might completely shut down if he knew a necromancer had been consulted. There was also the possibility Clarissa’s family would pitch a fit about her soul being brought back without their permission. The irony of the situation being that without Boone, we wouldn’t have identified Clarissa Peyton so quickly, and without knowing her identity we couldn’t contact her family. Some families would understand that and be grateful for Boone’s involvement. Some would think we desecrated the victim’s soul and trampled over their religious beliefs.
Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I finally asked, “Have you been able to interview the ex?”
Sheriff Benowitz blew out another breath, this one harsher than the first. “I’d love to speak with the man, but he’s nowhere to be found. Clinton Baxter up and vanished like a fart in the wind. Deputy Cohen’s spoken with every member of Clinton’s family. Cohen’s dug under every rock and spoken to everyone that’s even remotely connected to Mr. Baxter, and no one’s heard from him in weeks.”
The back of my neck prickled with unease. “He’s missing?” The man our victim from Florida accused was also missing. The authorities had been eager to let me know when I’d first contacted them.
“Missing, fled the state, on the run—take your pick. Hell, he might even be down in your neck of the woods, especially if he had something to do with Clarissa’s death. Considering you found her body in your backyard, might be that Clinton Baxter’s gone to ground in Mississippi too.”
“That could be.” I swallowed down my growing unease. “Would you mind sending me any information you have on Clinton Baxter? I can circulate his stats around the precinct. We can keep our eyes peeled.”
“I can do that. One thing I do remember is that Clinton has a hitch in his gait. His father told me Clinton broke his left leg as a child. I’m no doctor, but evidently however he broke it messed up the leg’s growth. From what I understand, his left leg’s shorter than the right. That might help one of your officers ID him from afar.
“Let me know if you find this SOB. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he’s the one responsible for what happened to poor Clarissa Peyton.” Sheriff Benowitz sounded two parts saddened and one part furious. “Waste of a life is what it is.”
I couldn’t disagree. “I’ll be sure to let you know if we encounter Mr. Baxter.”
“Much appreciated. Listen, I understand your ME is still examining Clarissa’s remains. I know her family’s anxious to get her home and do a proper burial.”
“I understand. We’ll release Miss Peyton’s remains as soon as possible. You have my word.”
“That’s all I can ask. I’m sure you’ve got your hands full, so I should let you go. Thank you for your time.”
“It’s no problem. Thank you for calling me with the update.” We finished our goodbyes along with further contact information where Sheriff Benowitz could send Clinton Baxter’s information. Sheriff Benowitz ended the call before I had a chance.
I was staring at my blank phone while tapping my pen on my desk when Becks walked back by. “Anything new to share with the class?”
