Free Count to Ten by Karen Rose

“Was there an accident?”
    “When was the last time you talked with her?” Mia asked gently.
    Burnette glared at Mia, his throat working viciously. She knew he knew the drill. Avoidance meant the very worst. “Friday night.”
    “We argued,” Mrs. Burnette murmured. “She went back to the sorority, and we left for my mother’s for the weekend. I tried calling her yesterday, but she wasn’t there.”
    Mia steeled her spine. “We have an unidentified body. We believe it’s Caitlin.”
    Mrs. Burnette slumped forward, covering her face with her hands. “No.”
    Burnette’s hands clutched at empty air, then gripped the sofa. “What happened?”
    “Lieutenant Solliday is with the fire marshal’s office. The home of Joe and Donna Dougherty burned to the ground this weekend. We believe Caitlin was in the house.”
    Mrs. Burnette was weeping. “Roger.” Numbly, Burnette sat next to his wife.
    “She was just supposed to get the mail. Feed the cat. Why couldn’t she get out?”
    Mia glanced at Solliday. His face was hard, but his eyes were pained. And he was silent, letting her lead. “She didn’t die as a result of the fire, sir,” she said and watched Mrs. Burnette’s head jerk up. “She was shot. We’re ruling her death a homicide.”
    Mrs. Burnette turned into her husband’s arms. “No.”
    Burnette’s eyes never left Mia’s as he rocked his wife. “Do you have any leads?”
    Mia shook her head. “None yet. I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you some questions. You said Caitlin lived at a sorority. Which one?”
    “TriEpsilon,” Burnette said. “They’re good girls.”
    That would remain to be seen. “Can you give us the names of her friends?”
    “Judy Walters,” he said through his teeth. “Her roommate.”
    “Did she have any boyfriends?”
    “She did, but they broke up. Joel Rebinowitz.” Burnette’s jaw was tight.
    Mia noted it in her notebook. “You didn’t like him, sir?”
    “He played around, partied too much. Caitlin had a future.”
    Mia tilted her head forward. “You argued on Friday. What about?”
    “Her grades,” Burnette said flatly. “She was failing two classes.”
    Solliday cleared his throat. “What classes was she failing?”
    Burnette looked furiously bewildered. “Statistics, maybe? Hell, I don’t know.”
    Mia steadied herself. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Did your daughter have any issues with drugs or alcohol?”
    Burnette’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Caitlin didn’t do drugs and she didn’t drink.”
    It was what she had expected. “Thank you.” She stood up and beside her Solliday stood as well. She’d saved the worst for last. “We’re going to have to identify the body.”
    Burnette lifted his chin. “I’ll go,” he said.
    Mia glanced at Solliday, whose face was still stoically expressionless, but his eyes flickered with pity. Mia sighed quietly. “No, sir. We’ll need to use dental records.”
    Mrs. Burnette lurched to her feet. She ran to the bathroom and Mia winced at the sound of the poor woman retching. Mr. Burnette came to his feet unsteadily, his face a deathly gray. “I’ll get the name of our dentist.” He made his way to the kitchen stiffly.
    Mia followed him. “Sergeant. You’re limping.”
    He looked up from a little black phonebook, his face haggard. “I pulled a muscle.”
    “On the job?” Solliday asked quietly from behind her.
    “Yeah. I was chasing...” His voice drifted away. “Oh my God. This was because of me.” He sank onto a barstool at the counter. “Somebody getting back at me.”
    “We don’t know that, Sergeant,” Mia murmured. “We have to ask the questions. You know that. I’ll need names of anyone who’s threatened you or your family.”
    His laugh was harsh. “You’ll need more pages than you’ve got in your little book, Detective. My God. This is going to kill my wife.”
    Mia hesitated, then gave in and laid her hand on his forearm. “It may have been random.