Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"And for Caitlin's body to be destroyed." She slid from the SUV. "I hate these visits."

"Me, too."

Fire marshals had to pay these kinds of visits, too. She'd never given it that much thought before. Then again, who knew which was worse-telling a parent their child had been murdered or that they'd died in a fire so severe that their body was no longer recognizable? Either way, it was the part of the job that sucked the very most.

Mia rapped on the door. The blue curtains parted and a pair of eyes peeked out at them, widening when Mia showed her shield. In a few seconds the door opened and a woman in her late forties stood before them, her face already showing signs of panic.

She was small, like the body on the table. "Are you Mrs. Ellen Burnette?"

"Yes." She turned. "Roger! Roger, come here. Please."

A burly man appeared in his bare feet, his eyes flickering in fear. "What's wrong?"

"I'm Detective Mitchell and this is Lieutenant Solliday. May we come in?"

Wordlessly Mrs. Burnette led them into the living room and lowered herself to the sofa. Her husband stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

Mia sat down on the edge of a chair. "We're here about Caitlin."

Ellen Burnette flinched as if she'd been slapped. "Oh God."

Roger Burnette's hands clenched. "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 sunk 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. Let us investigate. Now if you'll get me the name of the dentist, we'll go."

"Dr. Bloom. He's local." Burnette met Mia's eyes directly. "Tell me," he said in a low voice. "Did he…?"

Mia hesitated. "We don't know."

He looked away, cocking his jaw. "I understand," he bit out.

Mia leaned forward, snagging his attention again. "No, Sergeant. I mean we really don't know. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Thank you." She'd started to move away when he caught her arm hard and it was all she could do not to flinch in pain. But she didn't, shaken when his eyes filled with tears. "Find the bastard who did this to my baby girl," he whispered, then let her go.

Mia straightened, her shoulder burning like a live flame. "We will." She slid one of her cards across the counter. "If you need me, my cell phone number is written on the back. I'd appreciate it if you didn't let Caitlin's friends know that anything's happened."

"I know the drill, Detective," he said between his teeth. "Just get her released as fast as you can so we…" His voice broke. "So we can bury our child."

"I'll do everything I can. We can see ourselves out." She waited until she was in Solliday's SUV before hissing out a breath of pain. "Goddammit, that hurt."

"I have some Advil in the glove compartment," Solliday said.

Mia moved her arm and winced at the fire that raced up into her shoulder. "I think I'll accept." She found the bottle and dry swallowed two pills. "My stomach's going to hate me later, but my arm thanks you now."

One side of his mouth lifted. "You're welcome."

"I hate these visits. Their kids are never screwed up, never in any trouble."

"I think it's worse when they're cops," Solliday observed.

"That's the truth." It came out more fervently than she'd intended.

He glanced over at her before pulling into traffic. "Personal experience?"

If she didn't tell him, he'd ask around. "My father was a cop."

He lifted a brow, looking like Satan again. "I see. He's retired?"

"He's dead," Mia said. "And before you go asking around, he died three weeks ago."

He nodded, his eyes glued to the road. "I see."

No, you don't . But she wouldn't argue. "Cops' kids go astray, like everybody else's."

"Did you?"

"What, go astray? No, I didn't." And that's all he needed to know. She looked through her notes. "This could have been random. Somebody could have broken in to rob the Doughertys and found Caitlin there feeding the cat."

"She wasn't feeding the cat." He glanced over at her before returning his eyes to the road. "I didn't want to say anything to Burnette, but I found pages of a statistics book in the Doughertys' spare bedroom. I think she went there to study."