Chapter 33: Six LONG Months
"Crap, how do the science guys do this all day?" Flack swore, trying to peel paper from the molded ball.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Gus replied.
"Knock, knock, hope you are decent. Well actually I hope not, otherwise we might not be able to stay friends but I do hope you are clothed. Maybe just you, Augusta!" Billy called from the other side of the door.
"Come in, Billy," Gus said from her desk where she was feverishly searching newspaper archives online.
Flack gave her a look, "is he always like this?"
"Since birth," Gus said, giving both men a wide smile.
Billy shrugged before continuing, "while I am well aware you two can probably find plenty to do without leaving this room, I would like to remind you- OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN!" he exclaimed, his palm smacking to his chest when he saw what Gus had done to the closet.
"Calm down, nothing is permanent," Gus said, wincing.
"Is that what I think it is?" Billy said, "are you going all Nancy Drew on your parents' murder?"
Flack snorted while Gus jumped to her feet, "please recall, dear William, I am an actual detective with one of the best departments in the world. I am not 'going all Nancy Drew', we are working on my parents' case!"
Billy raised his eyebrows, stepping around Flack who was still struggling with the mess from the tub. "It is about damn time, darling."
Flack and Gus both looked up at him. Gus wrinkled her nose, she was expecting a speech on how she needed to let old dogs lie. "Seriously?" she quipped.
"I always expected you to do it sooner, I know how poorly you do with unknowns and this," he gestured at her info, "has always been a big unknown. How can I help?"
"Really?" Gus asked, finally standing and coming over to him.
"Of course, I still have a few contacts here and there. Whatever you need."
"Thanks, Billy! I need into the story archives at the T-P, I found a few online, but I remember the press buzzing around like flies and your mama telling them where to go. A cop killed in the line of duty and his wife also murdered, there has to be more!"
"You know anyone that can deal with this?" Flack growled from the floor as he ripped off what remained of a water stained photograph.
"Actually, I do, me!" Billy replied, sweeping in and scooping up the entire tub. "I volunteered at the library and learned a few tricks of the trade I make no guarantees, but I can at least separate this some. What is this, anyway?"
"Supposedly non-existent evidence that I stole from the justice complex," Gus said, deciding to just be honest.
"Thought you left your felony days behind you, Augusta," Billy said with a knowing look. Flack rose and cocked his head at the pair, waiting for someone to fill him in.
"I didn't commit felonies, William, I swear!" Gus replied batting her eyelashes.
"Fine lines, sugar. Now I am going to go stick this in the deep freeze," he paused, "I wanted to let you two love birds know that my evening boy didn't show, so I have to run down to the bar and won't be back for a few hours." He gave a knowing look to the pair.
Gus shook her head with a smile, "you are a subtle as a sledgehammer, Billy, have a lovely evening."
"You too," he shot back, giving Flack a long once over before leaving.
"He is…" Flack started, mouth agape.
"A lot," Gus said, closing the lid to her laptop. "But itlooks like we have the place to ourselves for the evening," she said, walking over and hooking her fingers through the belt loops on Flack's jeans.
"Yeah, so?" he said, smiling down at her, dimples on full display and his blue eyes the color of the sky.
"I don't know, want to grab some take out, watch a movie?" Gus teased, ducking around him and making for the stairs.
"Six long months, Broussard!" Flack followed after her, not to mention the past two torturous nights with her body pressed against his and his refusal to do anything about it.
"Stop looking at the pizza and eat it, Don!" Gus implored as they lounged in the den with their pizza, later.
"This isn't pizza," he grumbled, poking at what Gus had informed him was crawfish, though it looked like tiny lobsters tails to him.
"I know it isn't a New York slice, but they delivered so I didn't have to put on pants," she said, gesturing to his t-shirt, barely covering her frame.
"I gotta say, sunshine, I have missed you stealing my clothes, it's been a while," Flack replied, setting the box on the coffee table and sliding a hand up her bare leg, dinner and the movie quickly forgotten.
"We should probably pick up the trail of clothing leading in from the den," Gus suggested breathlessly a while later.
Flack rolled on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Nah, it is too damn hot here for clothes," he said, throwing the sheet off of Gus.
"The A/C is set on like 65!" Gus protested, grabbing the hem of the sheet and pulling it back up.
"Really, I didn't notice," he replied with another searing kiss.
"Children, at least pick up after yourselves!" Billy bellowed from below as he came in, causing Gus to mutter, "told ya," and Flack to break off his kiss.
"I'm going to go straighten up before Billy has a coronary, don't go anywhere."
"Wouldn't dream of it, sunshine," Flack said, stretching out on the bed.
"I take it I need to find someone else to polish the silver?" Billy said as Gus came down the stairs, picking up the trail of garments.
"I do believe you do, William," Gus said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Honey child, I have not seen such a smile on your face in years, please get back upstairs and ask that man to marry you!" Billy teased.
"I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed, Tibs, but I do agree that he is a keeper."
"I could have told you that when you first told me about him, in fact I think I tried to. Now imagine all the heartache you would have saved if only you would have listened to wise old Billy."
Gus shot him a look, setting the pile of clothing down on a chair and cleaning up the remains of their dinner. "What about all is well that ends well, Billy?"
"Fair enough," he took the plates from her, "oh just stop, I can get this, get back up to your man."
"You have to share, blue eyes," she exclaimed as she entered the bedroom, only to find Flack splayed practically comatose across the bed.
"What?" Flack asked, barely stirring as she struggled to get into bed.
"Billy didn't appreciate our littering" Gus said, still flushing, "but he also said I should ask you to marry me."
"That's nice," Flack replied absently, realizing Gus had climbed back into bed and turning to nestle her against him.
"Goodnight, Don," Gus replied with a smile, knowing he was already back to sleep before settling in to sweet dreams of her own.
Chapter 34: Over 400
"Rise and shine, sleepyheads, this case isn't going to solve itself!" Billy called from the hallway in front of Gus' door.
Gus' response was to pull her pillow over her head and mumble something. "What was that, sunshine?" Flack asked, bemused from where he was sitting at her desk checking his email.
"Coffee," she growled, though it was muffled.
Flack was already up with a smile, "things I honestly missed, Broussard," he said giving her a kiss on the sliver of head peeking out from the pillow and opening the door where Billy stood with a tray of coffee. "Thanks," he said, taking it.
Billy swept into the room, "as I am sure you are well aware, this one is a wilting magnolia before her coffee."
"And she will still kick your ass," Gus groaned, emerging from her cocoon.
"Alright, maybe wilting wasn't the right word. Either way, Augusta, I got you an appointment with the crime desk editor at the Times-Picayune and I suggest we not be late."
This got Gus moving quickly, "really, how did you swing that? What time is it now? What time is the appointment? I gotta shower," she said, springing into action, swiping the mug of coffee from Flack's hand.
Billy and Flack dropped her off at the newspaper office, not far from where Stella's new place of employment would be in a few weeks. They didn't say where they were going, but Gus didn't ask as she was focused solely on getting information out of Billy's contact.
The editor, Paul Devon, didn't keep her waiting long, probably hastened by her glowering in the lobby in full cop mode. She hadn't spent much time at a newspapers but she was amazed at the similarities between the T-P offices and her own beloved pit. Paul led her to his cube, pushing stacks of yellow legal pads and clippings to the floor so she could sit.
"Miss Broussard, what can I help you with? Please don't tell me you want a job, we aren't hiring and you start out in obits anyway, why everyone wants to be a crime reporter suddenly I don't know."
"No thank you, I'll leave that to my cousin, he blogs. And it's not Miss, it's detective," Gus gently corrected.
"Blogs, stinking blogs, the death of us yet. Detective, huh? Don't seem to remember you in any of my dealings with the NOPD," Paul leaned back, throwing his legs up on his desk, attacking a coffee stirrer with a certain vehemence that led Gus to believe he had recently quit smoking.
Gus pulled out her badge, "probably because I am out of the NYPD 12th precinct, sir."
"Long way from home, aren't you? How do you know Billy Brooks then?"
"You can say that again," Gus said under her breath. "We went to school together, at Holy Name until my parents decided I needed the nuns at Sacred Heart and then he went to Jesuit." She glanced around at his cube walls, noticing the telltale blue jay, "which is where I am guessing you know him from?"
He studied her, "yes, though I was long gone before he ever got there. He did field plenty of my calls when he was on the SWAT desk. What is he up to these days, he didn't fill me in."
Gus wanted to get to the purpose of her visit, without having to go into all of Billy's business holdings. "Bar and club owner and this and that, you know T-B."
Paul finally smiled, "T-B, you must actually know him then, and Big Daddy?"
Gus nodded, "of course, only reason I have any breeding is because of him and Miss Loretta. They took me under their wings after my parents died." She paused, "and that's why I am here. I am looking for information on their deaths. They were killed right before Christmas in 1992."
Paul pulled the coffee stir stick out of his mouth, looking at it with dissatisfaction and tossing it in the trash. "You do know there were over 400 murders that year, newspaper couldn't cover them all."
"Yes I know, but it doesn't change the fact that my parents were two of those over 400 and my father was an NOPD detective, I remember the media hounding my Aunt and I at the funeral and after, but I am having trouble finding anything.
"Yeah, four to six feet of water in our archives," Paul protested, stopping as he saw the look of determination on the younger woman's face, he found himself saying, "let me see what I can do. I can't promise it will be right away."
Gus nodded, "anything at all and I am good with moldy basements, just spent the last six months in the one at the justice complex."
"Thought you said you were with the NYPD," Paul narrowed his eyes at her, his instincts were kicking in.
"I was on loan, setting up the new cold case system, working on getting all the cold evidence sorted," she shrugged, not liking the change she saw in the man's expression, he suddenly looked like a bloodhound.
"I'll see what I can find, give me their stats and I will get on it when I can," he handed her one of the many legal pads and a pen. "I trust you can see yourself out?"
Gus wrote down the requested info, rising with what she hoped appeared to be a genuine smile, "thank you sir, and I will tell Billy you said hello."
She met Billy and Flack back out front looking dejected. "Sunshine?" "Sugar?" the two men inquired at the same time.
Gus shrugged, "he's going to look into things, but I don't hold out much hope."
Flack looked over his shoulder at her in the backseat, "not like you to give up so easy, Gus," he said, giving her a small smile.
"I'm not giving up," Gus protested, "but maybe I am being ridiculous."
"You better not be giving up, otherwise I just wasted all my boyish charms on that librarian to help with that disgusting tub for nothing!" Billy exclaimed. He looked at Gus in the rearview mirror, "and in the interest of full disclosure, I may have used some of his as well," he continued, gesturing to Flack.
"Dimples, eyes or badge?" Gus said with a snort.
"Shut it," Flack protested.
"All of them," Billy replied.
"First thing first," Billy said as they arrived back at his home, "we need to get that mess of information out of that closet and out where we can all see it. Nothing stays in the closet in my house!"
Gus and Flack rolled their eyes but were already making their way upstairs.
Chapter 35: Family Secrets
"What do we know?" Flack asked as they set up in the mostly unused formal living room.
"And what do we want to know?" Billy added, reminding himself to shut the pocket doors the next time his mother came over.
"A lot of crap and not a lot of real information," Gus replied, still looking downcast.
"Well at least we have this," Billy said, pointing to the tub and its now mostly separated contents, "and you, sugar, though I hate to point it out."
Gus looked up at the photographs of her parents on the portable white board they had set up.
Dismantling the information she had collected upstairs served to remind her that she didn't have much to go on, and as Paul had also pointed out, there were a lot of murders that year. Her father could have worked on any number of them. Back in the early nineties, the homicide division was centralized, they were called out to any scene in the city; it wasn't until years later that they moved to a normal precinct based system.
She had scribbled words and phrases that she remembered from the time period before their murders, though her recollection was fuzzy at best. Mostly she remembered her father shutting himself up in the guest room with stacks of files and plenty of beer. He only did this when the cases were bad enough he wanted to shield his endlessly curious daughter.
That had happened more and more often those days, Gus recalled, and her mother reacted by falling into depression and refusing to get out of bed. Gus was already at day student at Sacred Heart by then but she still often sought solace at the Brooks compound, Miss Loretta and Marie having formed a friendship in the early days while serving on the parent's board at Holy Name.
Billy's parents took her in willingly, they had waited so long to have Billy, a sibling was clearly out of the question and Loretta loved having a surrogate daughter to spoil. Gus assumed the Brooks' had also probably taken pity on her, a father who worked all the time and a mother who moved from Jekyll to Hyde frequently. "Gus, you still with us?" Flack asked, studying her intently as she stared more through than at the murder board.
Billy, having a better idea of the memories washing over her, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and announced it was time for drinks.
"It isn't even noon on a weekday!" Flack exclaimed.
"And that is why the good lord invented Bloody Mary's," he said, giving Gus a look which she knew meant he was wondering how much Flack knew about her parents.
"What's happening in there?" Flack asked, tapping her on the forehead.
Gus shrugged, "just thinking. Thinking we got squat." He looked down at her, clearly not believing this but not pressing.
"I don't know why I thought this would be easy," she said as they stared at the board. Frustration was clear in her voice.
Flack moved behind her, letting her lean back into him, wrapping his arms around her. "Just talk through it, what do you remember?"
Gus took deep breath and closed her eyes. She had been thinking about the time leading up to her parents' death since she found that stupid box in the basement, but she also has spent a lot of time trying to ignore unpleasant memories.
"It's fine, just talk it out, like we tell people all the time, little details can matter a lot," he said gently.
"My dad was stressed out, not that he would show it or anything really, he learned that in the Marines."
"No wonder you can read Mac so well," Flack joked, pulling her even closer to him.
She gave the briefest of smiles before continuing, "he was working a lot, even for him. He started coming home less and less, I would go days without seeing him. He was working a case but he didn't want me to see it bad enough that he put a lock on the guest bedroom. I used to grill him about his cases all the time, and usually he would answer my questions. There must have been something awful about this one."
Gus shuddered, her father had shown her a lot of his work, things she probably shouldn't have seen at such a young age but that combined with the knowledge of what she had seen on the job, Gus could only imagine what atrocities her father had hidden away. She shook it off, and Flack, who despite wanting nothing more than to comfort her, knew she did her best thinking while moving.
"My mother," she paused stopping to look at him, "there's some stuff you don't know about my mother, Don."
"Gus, my mother abandoned me and my younger sister when I was ten because she wanted to run off with my dad's partner who didn't want kids, so only my older brother could go live with them. My father pretty much tuned out then except to yell at us, leaving my grieving widow of a grandmother to raise us practically by herself, so hit me with your best shot, okay?"
Gus cleared her throat, "well in that case." She sighed, "my mother was bi-polar. When she was up she was bubbly and could light up a room. When she was down, she wouldn't leave the bed for days and could get violent and mean. It wasn't pretty."
Flack tried to move in, but Gus waved him away, "please, just let me. I remember she was up right after Thanksgiving, we had dinner here, I remember..." Gus paused. "She went hog-wild decorating the house, with live garland and trees and magnolia leaves and it was out of control, I don't think she slept for a week. My father came home, carrying file boxes and didn't notice her work. Mama, just lost it. The neighbors would have called the police, except daddy was the police. She took to bed after that, until a couple of days before my holiday break, and then she was back at it, trying to create the perfect Christmas. Maybe she was just trying to get daddy to focus on something other than the case or maybe she was just crazy, I don't know." Gus stopped, her eyes closed, shaking her head.
Flack walked towards her, wrapping her in his arms despite her struggling and held her. He caught sight of Billy watching them from the door way, a tray of drinks in his hands. The two men's eyes met and Billy gave Flack a wistful smile, and a nod of approval.
"Not crazy, darling, remember around here we call it eccentric," Billy started.
"And invite it up to the porch for a drink, I know, Tibs," Gus said, wiggling out from Flack's arms and going to get a drink, "call me eccentric."
"You are not one bit like your mama, sugar, except maybe that you do light up a room," Billy said, giving her arm a squeeze. "Well, are we supposed to be sharing all our deep family secrets now or just the ones about this case?"
"Joggers!" Gus remarked suddenly after taking a long drink. Both men looked at her. "I remember sneaking a look at a file about female joggers, older women, strangled, found out by the bayous."
"Alright, that's a start," Flack coached, "anything else?"
"The boxes, the night my parents had the huge fight, they were mostly binders, other open cases, prostitutes maybe? I didn't get that good of a look, mama was too busy throwing them around, but I remember he had files...it seemed weird, they weren't murder books, they looked kind of like the charts we had in staff psych or-" her eyes got wide, "or like our personnel files."
"Shit!" Billy and Flack swore at the same time getting what Gus was alluding to.
"Your father thought a cop was involved in at least one of these cases," Flack said with a sigh, rubbing his neck.
"Or all of them, I remember him taking me aside, late that night, mama had already stormed off to bed. He apologized for working so much, but that he was trying to stop some very bad things. I remember him giving me his usual safety lecture, but he seemed really shaky this time. I just thought it was because of mama freaking out, what if it was more?"
They all went back to the sticky notes Gus had scribbled on, the slips of paper starting to make more sense as she fleshed things out and a timeline started to appear.
"Now this, this is something we can work with," Flack said, studying the board.
"Let's see if we can add to it with this," Billy said, pulling the lid off the tub. He sorted through a stack, "Gus are you sure you want to see this?" he said, paling slightly.
Flack moved over to see what Billy was looking at, what had emerged from the stuck together stacks of paper. "Sunshine, it's the crime scene photos, from both scenes."
"Put them up," Gus said, looking determined, "it isn't like I can erase the memory of my mama lying dead in our kitchen anyway."
Billy hung the photographs with Flack's help, Gus staring at them and sucking down her drink
Chapter 36: Serial
Gus shivered slightly as she took in the kitchen of her childhood, the pristine cabinets marred with spatter, the streaks where Gus had bounded in through the backdoor, sliding in the puddle of blood. The tread trail from her saddle-oxfords as she ran through the house looking for her father.
Her eyes shot over to his crime scene photographs, found dead in the projects outside the quarter, a bullet between his eyes. At first the NOPD thought drug dealers where just trying to make a point about how they felt about cops on their turf.
"Are you sure?" Billy asked, looking back at her.
Gus just nodded, unable to do anything but finish her drink, Flack taking her empty glass and tucking her hair behind her ear. She gave him a small smile, if this is what it took to banish the last of her demons, then she would face whatever horrors she had to.
Flack reappeared with a glass of water and a laptop in hand. "Mr. Newspaper may not have given you much, but I'm betting the internet might have something to say," he said, handing Gus the glass of water before plopping in an armchair with the laptop.
"Don, I've looked, like Paul said, there were over 400 murders that year, the paper didn't have room to cover them all. I have worked on this for over two months now!" Gus protested.
"By yourself, darling, and where had you gotten? Rambles on sticky notes and a ball of mush you picked to hell?" Billy pointed out, waving around the pieces of paper he had restored.
"Don't rub in your handiwork, Billy," Gus shot back.
"I'm just saying, if you would let people in every once in a damn blue moon, things might get done," Billy admonished.
Flack cleared his throat, bemused despite the heaviness in the room. "Listen to your friend, sunshine."
"Fine, I give up, yes, I obviously need y'alls help and then some, damn it," Gus growled, making a chart on the board, trying to not look directly into her parent's dead eyes.
"Thank god for rich, white women," Flack exclaimed a bit later. Billy and Gus both turned to stare at them, as they had gone through the documents Billy had salvaged from the tub.
"Something you want to tell me, blue eyes?" Gus dripped as Billy cut in, "she isn't rich, sugar, barely a trust fund, I tell you."
"Very funny, both of you," Flack shot back, "and that's more than I got. I think I found something. Apparently between 1986 and 1990, there were five women between 52 and 68 years of age that disappeared while jogging and were later found mutilated and strangled in swamps and bayous between here and Baton however the hell you say that R word. As far as I can tell, they never had any real leads and the cases remain unsolved."
"I am not letting you jog alone anymore," Billy said, patting Gus on the back.
"It is too damn hot here to run outdoors anyway, Billy," Gus said, adding information to the board. "What about hookers?" she said, peeling a note down.
"What about them?" Flack asked.
Gus gave a cry of frustration, "I don't know, I don't remember why I wrote this in the first place."
"New Orleans is chock full of them and they get murdered all the time, but it isn't like the newspaper is going to write about it," Billy pointed out.
"Yeah, but what about cops being involved with prostitutes?" Gus suggested, while Flack was already typing away.
Flack made a strangled noise, "what kinda half-assed operation are you running down here?" he exclaimed, ignoring the glares he received. "Some idiot chief got rid of internal affairs in 1994 and it wasn't brought back until 2002. I mean, I hate the rat squad as much as the next cop, but it is a necessary evil. Gambling operations, prostitution rings, working private security details on the clock, robberies, shake downs, a regular banana freaking republic," he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Flack," Gus growled in warning stomping over to his chair.
"Broussard?" Flack replied, looking up with smirk.
She planted her hands on her hips and looked ready to start swinging. "Stop kicking my damn dog and help me figure out who killed my daddy, who was a good cop!"
Billy intervened, "alright, children, we get it, you are both right, lots of corrupt cops in a wonderful city. Now how about I fix us some lunch?"
"I could eat," Flack said, going back to his searching.
Gus glared at him one more time before picking up her buzzing phone. "Fine," she said to Billy before answering.
"Mr. Newspaper Man says he pulled some clips and is sending them over now, he also says I can get a pass to the archives but that I better like spooling microfiche."
"Got it," Flack said, turning the laptop towards her.
"How did you get into my email?" Gus protested.
Flack gave her a grin, "let's just say Adam would be saddened by your lack of password strength. Though I am flattered."
"Get over yourself and let me see," Gus said, taking the laptop from him.
"Crap!" she cried in frustration after reading through everything. "None of this says a damn thing about the cases he was working, the newspaper all but shoves it off on drug dealers and just blabs on about the crime rate being the highest in the nation. Apparently he was the fourth cop killed in the line of duty that year so it was old news; who cares that some scumbag also killed his wife and left his daughter orphaned."
"And that is enough for you for now. Come on and eat lunch," Billy exclaimed, shutting the laptop on her and striding back towards the kitchen.
Gus looked at Flack for help. "Don't look at me with doe eyes, sunshine, this is why we don't work cases we are personally involved in." Gus started to open her mouth but Flack's glare stopped her short. "My point, exactly, can we go eat, I'm hungry?" he put a hand out to help her up off the floor.
"When are you not hungry?" she teased as he pulled her up and to him.
He looked at her with a devilish grin, "I can think of a few times," he said, leading her out of the room.
"You were cute all gangly," Flack said, looking through the articles about her parents' funeral a bit later.
"I was a late bloomer, and in mourning, Don!" Gus replied from her spot beside him on the porch swing.
Billy had kicked them out of the living room for the afternoon for their own good, but they remained working despite his protests.
She pushed the swing with one foot, the other tucked underneath her, making notes on the pad in her lap. "I know this can't be how you envisioned using vacation time, I really do appreciate it," she said, setting her pen down and reaching for his hand.
He entwined his fingers with hers, "no, it isn't, but this is important to you, so it's important to me. Partners, right?" he said, with a squeeze. "Also, I think I figured out what your father was trying to hide from you."
Gus withdrew her hand, leaning over to see what was on the screen. "Between 1990 and 1992, seven teenage girls between the ages of 13 and 15...missing...raped...found strangled...mutilated bodies dumped naked in wetland areas over southeast Louisiana...several suspects...including St. Charles Parish sheriff...never arrested...lack of evidence...committed suicide in 2004." Gus slumped back, "who knows if they were connected?"
"Gus, stand back for a second. If you were looking at this case in New York, what would you notice?"
"The MO is the same, rape and strangulation, mutilation, naked body dumps in similar areas that corrode evidence very quickly. The victimology changes, but it starts with older women who were probably caught off guard and moved to young teenagers who he probably lured somehow," Gus said, thinking aloud.
"Which says what?" Flack pressed on, knowing she was there but just had to say it.
"Organized serial killer." She thought for a minute, "my father figures out these cases are connected, and he knows there is a serial killer active in the area, but with 400 murders that year already, the city doesn't need the press or maybe just doesn't care. But why did he bring home NOPD personnel files if a suspect was a St. Charles sheriff?"
Flack thought for a minute, thinking about the area west of town that he flew into and that Gus had driven him through. It wasn't exactly the same, but he had seen it happen time and time again, hell even Danny was contemplating it. "What if he started out as NOPD but wanted to make more money or-"
"Had a family and wanted to be out of the city in a safer position? He also would know every swamp and bayou between here and Lafourche!" Gus made a face, "it makes sense, but man that is sick. Hey sweetie what did you do today? Took the kids to school and had coffee with the PTA, what about you? Just abducted, raped and strangled a girl our daughter's age before dumping her naked, mutilated body in the swamp, so glad we moved out to the country!"
Flack couldn't help but laugh. "Don't ever become a real estate agent, sunshine!"