Page 25 of Jar of Hearts
The door closes, and Kaiser pulls up a stool between the two tables. He focuses on the child. Only the night before, this little boy had been alive. Laughing, splashing in the tub, playing with his toys. One or both of his parents shampooed his hair with the Burt’s Bees stuff lovingly, believing—as was absolutely their right—that there would be ten thousand more baths, ten thousand more laughs, ten thousand more bedtimes.
They’re about to receive the worst news of their lives. There’ll be crying, shouting, and hysteria, interspersed with denial and disbelief. They’ll weep over the child, then turn on each other, one accusing the other of leaving the window unlocked, one blaming the other for not checking on Henry first thing in the morning. Whether they can get through it, only time will tell, but the divorce rate for parents who’ve lost a child to kidnapping or foul play is exorbitantly high. They’re each other’s best reminder of the worst thing that’s ever happened to them.
And the woman. She was somebody’s daughter, granddaughter,friend. People are missing her, too. She wasn’t a transient. Her teeth are white. She colored her hair. Her fingernails are covered in gel overlay, something you had a pay a manicurist to do. Homeless women did not spend money on manicures. And yet somebody had desecrated her, cutting her into pieces like she was a cardboard box ready for disposal.
It was something only a monster could do. Kaiser had met a monster like that once, had been introduced to him through his old friend Georgina.
And what does she know about this? She might be in prison, but has she been in touch somehow with Calvin James, in a way that doesn’t show up on those monthly reports? Is she aware that two dead bodies have been found in the woods behind her house just days before she’s due to come home, killed in a similar manner to her old boyfriend’s signature style?
Kaiser reins himself in. It’s extremely dangerous to assume this is the work of the Sweetbay Strangler. He has to stay objective or he’ll miss something. Besides, it would be incredibly reckless, and stupid, for Calvin James to come back here. Not that psychopaths operate using the same logic as regular people.
Kaiser touches the heart on the boy’s chest again. The dark-red lipstick really does resemble blood. With any luck, they might be able to find out what brand it is, and if it turns out to be something exotic or hard to get, it might provide a lead. A long shot, but they had nothing else to go on.
“I don’t know how you can sit in here by yourself,” Kim’s voice behind him says, and he jumps. She’s back, a sheet of paper in her hand. “I know this is how you work, but it’s strange.”
Kaiser stifles his annoyance, both at her comment and at being interrupted. “What’s up?”
“The parents are here.”
“That was fast.” Alarmed, Kaiser stands up. “The body isn’t ready. The boy needs to be washed before they can see him.”
“I thought it would be longer, but traffic opened up. You have to go talk to them, at least. They’re going out of their minds.”
“Fuck.” Kaiser thinks fast. “Okay. Call Counseling Services. Get a grief counselor here, pronto. And then go find me a mask.”
Kim blinks, confused. “What kind of mask?”
“Some kind of mask,” Kaiser says, impatient. He hates having to explain things to anyone. As much as he likes Kim, he’s irritated that after a year of working and sleeping together, she still can’t read his damn mind. “Not a costume mask. Something plain, like a sleeping mask, so I can cover the woman’s empty eye sockets and take a picture. Hopefully they can tell us who she is.”
“No need for a mask. There’s an app for that.”
“Huh?”
Kim reaches over and plucks his iPhone out of his jacket pocket. She taps at the screen for a few seconds, then hands the phone back.
“It’s called a censor-bar app,” she says. “You take the picture, then add a black bar anywhere you want.” Seeing the look on his face—Kaiser is the first to admit he’s not great when it comes to new technology—she takes the phone from him again. “Allow me.”
She positions herself above the table where Jane Doe is and snaps a photo. She then taps the phone again a few times before handing it back to Kaiser. The whole thing takes less than a minute. “Done. Saved in your camera roll. I even filtered it a little to make her skin look like it has some color. Just be sure not to accidentally show them the original.”
He checks the photo and has to admit he’s impressed. From the neck up, with the black bar across the eyes, the woman in the photo still looks dead, but notasdead. Thanks to the filter Kim used, the grayish skin appears pinker. “This actually works. Thanks.”
She puts a hand on his arm. “This is bugging you more than usual, isn’t it, Kai? You think this is Calvin James?”
Clearly everyone else seems to think so or they wouldn’t keep asking. Kim wasn’t his partner back when Angela’s remains were found, and Kaiser didn’t even work the first two Sweetbay Strangler murders; they were another detective’s cases. But yes, it’s hitting him hard. It all feels too familiar, too close to home, as if this is all happening specifically to remind him of the past.
Again, it’s a narrow-minded line of thinking, and very dangerous. His job isn’t to find evidence to fit the theory. It’s to come up with a theory based on the evidence. He has to stay objective, but it’s getting harder.
In the elevator, Kim touches his hand, speaking in a low, soft voice. “Dave’s working tonight, graveyard shift. I can come over after ten-thirty, stay all night. If you want.”
“Maybe,” Kaiser says.
But he already knows he wants her to, and he hates himself for it.
9
Henry Bowen’s parents react exactly as Kaiser knew they would. They scream, cry, blame the police, blame each other, and then eventually fall silent as they try to individually process the new reality they now face.
Amelia Bowen’s eyes are slightly glazed. She sits silently on a small blue sofa in the police station’s conference room, subdued on the outside, raging fire on the inside. Tyson Bowen paces the room like a caged lion, eyes bright and intense, hands curled into claws, ready to destroy someone. Based on Henry’s age, Kaiser expected to meet younger parents, but the Bowens are older, mid-forties.
