Free Face Off by Emma Brookes

working full-time and had nothing coming in each month except the small trust fund Miss Emily had established for her. She had to eat; for Christ’s sake!
    But they continued to crucify her. Suzanne didn’t even stay in town for the trial of Baxter Underwood on the new murder charges. She sold Miss Emily’s house, loaded up what possessions she could get in a Ryder truck, hooked her Olds to the truck, and slunk out of town, her tail between her legs. She hadn’t even decided on a destination until the attendant at the Ryder place said he had to know where she was going before letting her have the truck. The people in line in front of her had been moving to Kansas City. She decided that was as good a place as any.
    She had now been in Kansas City ten months. And she knew a grand total of six or seven people, who knew her well enough to let her alone. They thought of her only as an eccentric recluse, and knew nothing of her past history. She did research for a television conglomerate, working out of her home, away from people. Fortunately, between the sale of Miss Emily’s house and the trust fund, she didn’t have to make much money to get by.
    Occasionally, a reporter would track her down, hoping for a story. When this happened she would just slam down the phone, or shut the door, insulating herself from any more misery.
    She had read in the Kansas City Star that Baxter Underwood had been convicted for the deaths of the two twelve-year-old girls. That was all she wanted to know about that whole terrible time.
    Jessie was right. She had been “hiding out” from the world. Maybe it was time to come out of hiding.

Chapter Eight
    â€œHas a criminalist been notified yet?” Harry asked the young officer standing outside the office building on Brighton Avenue.
    â€œYes, sir. Everyone’s been called, even the ME,” Patrolman Williams answered. “We were just up the street on traffic detail when these men hollered. We came over and secured the area.”
    â€œStanley Davis is the ME we wanted. Is that going to be a problem?”
    â€œNo, sir. That’s who the station said you requested. I believe they caught him in his car not far from here. We were told he’d be here in about fifteen minutes.”
    â€œGood.” Harry glanced around at the men in hard hats. “What’s the story? Who found the body and what were these men doing?”
    â€œThe building was going to be razed, sir,” Williams answered. “They were doing a final run-through when one of the men discovered the body—or what was left of it.”
    â€œPretty bad?”
    â€œYeah. Both legs and feet, both arms and hands—the head. Just like all the others.”
    Hopefully not like all the others, Harry thought.
    â€œI assume your partner is in with the body?” Jim asked.
    â€œYes, sir. And we haven’t allowed anyone in, but a Mr. Hollings wants to speak with someone as soon as possible. He wants to know what they should do about the explosives they have set.”
    â€œNot yet,” Jim said. “Tell him we’ll talk with him later. Right now, no one comes in who’s not official. Got that?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Harry and Jim walked into the old office building and followed the trail of puke down the hallway to the open door.
    â€œLooks like somebody wasn’t prepared for what he found,” Jim said.
    The second officer was standing just outside the door. By the looks of him, Harry guessed he had contributed to at least part of the mess in the hallway. Harry couldn’t say much. The first young girl he had found butchered like this had emptied his own damn stomach. He nodded at the young man. “Go get some air, officer.”
    Jim went first into the room, stepping carefully over the severed hand, checking behind the door before pushing it open. The scene was as gruesome as all the others had been. If this were a copycat killing,