Free In the Belly of Jonah by Sandra Brannan Page A

‘yes and no’ when I asked you whether the other victims had been cut the same way Jill had been. Did you mean yes and no about this being the gruesome handiwork of a serial killer, but this might be a copycat, or did you mean yes you have a serial killer on your hands and no there is not more than one body with a chunk cut out of it?”
    “Uh-huh,” Lisa said, reading through the notes she had taken earlier in the day.
    “Which uh-huh?” I asked.
    “The second.”
    “So this is a serial killer, but the other murder or murders did not exactly match Jill’s?”
    “Right,” Lisa said. She peered over her notebook. “But remember, this is not for public consumption, Liv. You can’t be telling anyone what’s happening here.”
    “I won’t, Lisa. I know you don’t want to panic people or incite the media. Tabloidic journalism is already an epidemic,” I opined.
    “Tabloidic? Is that even a word?” Lisa grinned.
    “No. But it should be. Was it good news?” I pointed to her cell phone on the coffee table.
    “What? The call? Yeah, it was good news. The autopsy was done after you left, and Special Agent Pierce was giving me a brief update. He’s coming up tomorrow morning to spend the day.”
    I have no idea what overtook me in the moment, but I was struck with a brilliant idea that I would reflect on ruefully days later. “Well, since you don’t have a hotel room, do you guys want to use this house as your base camp?”
    “Headquarters, you mean?” Lisa said.
    “Why not? I’ll be at work all day, and I won’t bother you guys a bit. I can stay out of your way and simply need a place to crash each night and shower in the morning. Otherwise, I’ll just camp out at work.”
    Lisa laid her notebook on her lap. “You’d do that for us?”
    “For you , and for Jill. I don’t know these other guys.”
    “Thanks. We might take you up on that. I doubt it, though. We’re hoping to use Detective Brandt’s office as our makeshift headquarters, but it all depends on how dicey it gets with his boss.”
    “Chief of Police Mel Richardson?” I asked. “Of Fort Collins? Well then, I better go buy more coffee and food, because both your FBI asses will be kicked to the curb as soon as you pull jurisdiction,” I said.
    Lisa simply stared at me.
    “Control freak,” I explained. “Even Detective Brandt may need somewhere to light after your meeting in the morning. Invite him along too. Mi casa es su casa .”
    “You’re insane.”
    “Like you said, some things never change.”
    I pushed myself off the couch and went back to my bedroom, bringing out my desk chair and placing it in the kitchen. I went back to retrieve my computer, then my monitor, and set them on the kitchen table.
    “What are you doing?” Lisa asked.
    I motioned to her. “Come help me a minute.”
    She followed me back to my bedroom, and together we carried the large desk into the living room. I set my end of the desk down next to the bare wall by the fireplace. She followed my lead. We pushed the couch against one wall and put the easy chairs opposite the couch centered by the coffee table. Within minutes, we had a war room.
    “Local stations are on channels two, four, seven, nine, and fourteen. Fox News is on Channel 31, and I can never find CNN.”
    I grabbed my coat and billfold and headed for the garage.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To the grocery store to stock up. When I get back, I expect you to have your car parked in the garage. I’ll be parking out on the street.”
    “I can’t do that to you. This is your house,” she protested.
    “It’s the least I can do for you. And for Jill, remember?” I leveled my gaze. “I want to help. This makes me feel a bit more useful.”
    Lisa was dumbfounded. She stood, mouth agape, and stared. Shaking her head, she said, “You’re already letting me sleep here. I’ll eat your food, Liv. But I’m not using your garage. Okay?”
    “You’re still stubborn. Thanks for letting me help