Tessa Stark: Desert Heat

Chapter Twenty Two

The drive from the Desert Rose to the crime scene took nearly half an hour, despite the light morning traffic, and was mostly made in a tense silence owing to the fact that they yet had no details to discuss. She didn't mind the quiet, though. It gave her time to settle her thoughts and steady herself in preparation for what they were about to walk into.

"Are you ready for this?" Cole spoke, abruptly shattering the stillness as he turned the truck onto a small side street.

"As ready as I can be, I reckon," she replied.

"Will you be okay? I mean, you probably haven't attended an active murder scene in a while, right?" he wondered, casting her a concerned look.

"I haven't worked a fresh kill in a minute, but I think I can handle it," she replied.

Cole's shot her another quick glance. "A fresh kill?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "That's how I refer to an active scene. It helps me stay detached while I work." And by the way Cole was regarding her, she was coming to perhaps understand why she'd been given a very particular moniker...

Whipping the truck into a parking lot to the right, they were greeted by the sight of a working crime scene...and Tessa felt her stomach drop a fraction. There had been a tiny part of her that had hoped a mistake had been made. But, looking at all the police vehicles—the squad cars and unmarked units, the CSU van, an unmarked Transport van, a few Sheriff's office vehicles, a couple of State Trooper cruisers—as well as a couple of news vans that were already setting up, she knew the victim simply wasn't an ordinary citizen.

Etty Montrose was from a wealthy, prominent family and her death would warrant a call of all hands on deck, from both law enforcement, as well as the local media.

"Well, shit," Cole sighed as he parked the truck a distance away from the tangle of cars and vans and people. "You know, once the sheriff hands us this case, the spotlight is going to be on you, Special Detective Stark."

"I know," she said, disliking the unease lacing her words.

"You're not used to working in the glare of the public eye?" he asked, his coarse voice sympathetic.

She pulled in a breath and let it slowly back out. "I'm used to the spotlight. But, that mostly comes after I've solved the case. And usually, I have the luxury of time to do what I need to do."

In fact, she had none of the time pressures that the law officers originally investigating her cases were burdened with. She came in long after the body and trail of evidence had gone cold, allowing her to ply her trade without the clock ticking in her ear.

"Welp, I'll say this," Cole began, unlatching his seatbelt and opening his door, "it looks like the questions you were asking stirred something up. So, hopefully, whoever was panicked enough to commit a second murder will trip over their own feet and fall right into our hands."

"I guess there's always that hope," she replied, opening her door and stepping out into the morning.

The sun was up and the heat was already building, causing steam to rise up from the damp parking lot and hang in the air at knee height, curling and twisting as people moved through it, reminding her of so many ghostly, grasping hands, giving her something of an unsettling feeling at the base of her spine.

The cordoned off crime scene was on the far side of the parking lot and to the left sat a two story, somewhat low slung building with countless blacked out windows and a blood red front door sitting back beneath a black entrance canopy, adorned with a single word...Cherry.