Free Cold Shot by Dani Pettrey Page B

his empty plate aside. “I quickly expanded our missing persons search, as no Jane Does matched locally.” He stood, moving to the whiteboard they’d pulled into the lounge.
    Parker lifted his chin. “And?”
    “And I’ve found four possibilities by extending our reach regionally.” He pulled out four missing-person flyers and stepped to the whiteboard, pinning them up with thumbtack-size magnets.
    Four images of beautiful women, all in their twenties and thirties, all blond, and all missing. Just the sight of them hit Griffin hard in the gut. He kept his gaze fixed fast on the board, careful not to look at Parker.
    “First victim is Jennifer Beckham,” Declan began. “She’s from Chevy Chase. Age twenty-five. Reported missing March sixth by her roommate when she didn’t show up for a birthday party. No significant leads reported. Second victim is Karen Miller. Age thirty-five, reported missing February twenty-third by her friend after receiving no word from her for three days. There was a history of domestic violence in the home, but noevidence to hold the husband on. Third victim is Marley Trent. Reported missing on March ninth by a co-worker when she didn’t show up to work. No open leads. And last—”
    “Wait,” Finley interrupted, standing.
    Declan arched a brow. “Yes?”
    “Is that Marley Trent, as in social justice lawyer Marley Trent?”
    Declan glanced back over the information he had. Just the bare essentials. “It says she was a lawyer. Why? Did you know her?”
    “Not personally, but definitely by reputation. She’s one of Towson University’s star alums. She finished her undergrad degree there—well, one of them—but it was before I started on staff. The woman is a legend.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “She fights for those who can’t fight for themselves.”
    Griffin smiled at her. “Sounds like someone I know.”
    She smiled back. “I’d like to think we share or shared a purpose in our work. Both fighting injustice, just in different areas. She was a remarkable woman. I hate to think it’s her, but it would be nice to finally know what happened.”
    “It could be her,” Declan said. “But there are four possibilities.”
    “Right.” Finley smoothed her shirt and retook her seat. “Sorry to interrupt.”
    “No problem at all. If it is Marley Trent, you may be a great asset to us, knowing what you do about the woman. Now . . . where were we . . .” Declan’s eyes tracked over the information he had about the woman on the final flyer. “Alexandra Samson. From Westminster. Age thirty-one. Reported missing by her parents March third when they arrived for a visit and found herhome broken into and no sign of Alex. She lived alone, and it appears she may have been missing for a couple days before her folks arrived. Detectives on the case looked pretty deeply into a male neighbor but couldn’t make anything stick.”
    “So they are all cold cases?” Griffin loathed the term. They all did.
    Declan looked down. “I’m afraid so.”
    “What’s the next step?” Finley asked.
    “We check into getting more information about the women—to see if anything matches up with the hat and ring we found on our Jane Doe. I also pulled dentals on all the missing women.” Declan grabbed the oversized manila envelopes and handed them to Finley.
    “Great. I’ll have Dr. Kent do the comparisons,” she said. “He’s the best odontologist on the east coast. I’ll run these up to his office. Sometimes he works late—actually prefers to, I think. I’ll also pop in on Shirley. She’s the forensic artist I called in. Let me check on her progress. It’s possible we may have a rendering of our victim’s face tonight.”
    Declan looked to Parker as Finley ducked out of the room. “What about you? Any progress on your end?”
    “Yes.” He retrieved a file from the counter, and Avery joined him at the whiteboard, pinning up magnified shots of the trace evidence in question. “Avery