Free The Bone Chamber by Robin Burcell Page B

sketch, his gaze narrowing as he shook his head. “With so many tourists, it’s hard to say. Would you like me to make a copy and ask around?”
    “No, thank you.”
    He held up her card. “But if I think of something, I’ll call you.”
    “I’d appreciate it.”
    He left and she continued her perusal, definitely at a loss. This appeared to be the crime scene she’d seen in the photo, but if so, it told her little. She stood there, eyeing the lamppost, the red sandstone on the building, but there was nothing that stood out, and she thought of the photo she’d seen in Quantico. She was no homicide detective, though she’d assisted on several serial murders during her few short years with the FBI, and the occasional murder while an officer with Sacramento PD before that. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t made the connection to what she hadn’t seen in the photo. Blood.
    It had been there on what was left of the woman’s face, to be sure, but head wounds are known to bleed profusely, and the removal of a face from a body was bound to leave some blood evidence, if not massive amounts of blood evidence.
    Which meant the woman had been killed elsewhere.
    Sydney walked around a bit, finally ending up at the front of the building, with the distinct feeling that someone was watching her. She looked up, saw a tall, dark-haired priest eyeing her, a look of curiosity on his face, perhaps because she was coming from an area where the tourists didn’t usually venture. He was standing next to a group of people who were waiting at the entrance to the front of the very building Sydney had been searching around. She glanced at a sign, saw it was a display on the Holy Crusade, which no doubt explained the priest’s presence, and when she saw nothing else out of the ordinary, she returned to the parking lot. Okay, think. What would the homicide guys doif they were investigating a Jane Doe murder? Two things, she thought, both of which might help identify the victim. Missing persons’ reports and towed abandoned vehicles. If someone was missing or dead, she could very well have left a car somewhere, a car that was towed because she failed to return for it. And that could give her a good starting break.
    Syd pulled out her cell phone, called Amber Jacobsen at MPDC Records. “You have time to do one other favor for me?”
    “Depends. I get off in thirty. My favorite band is playing tonight. Scars on Broadway.”
    “Hoping this won’t take too long. I need info on towed abandoned vehicles in the downtown area.”
    “Time frame?”
    “Last couple weeks, up until now. And if you can tie one of them to a missing person’s case, preferably a woman, that’s even better.”
    “Piece of cake. When do you need it?”
    “I’m on my way to the PD now.”
    “I’ll have the listing for you when you get here.”
    “Thanks,” she said, then looked up, surprised to see the security guard was standing just a few feet behind her.
    “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to interrupt your call. There’s another guard who may have heard something a few nights ago. I thought you might like to come back, perhaps to speak with him.”
    “Heard what?” she said, standing there, her hand on the car door.
    “A man arguing with a woman. A lovers’ quarrel.”
    “Did he say what night this was?”
    “Three nights ago, I think. He’s tied up at the monitors, and said to come inside to the office and he’ll go over the details with you. He thinks it could be what you’re looking for.”
    “Thanks,” she said, then tossed her briefcase into the front seat, not wanting to sound too ungrateful, since he had gone to the trouble to check for her. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment. If you could give him my cardand have him call me, I’d appreciate it.” And she slid into the driver’s seat, started the car, then drove off, catching sight of the security guard in her rearview mirror. She dismissed the information he’d given her, not