Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"None," Jack confirmed.

"Char patterns indicate the back door was closed through the fire," Solliday added.

"Then he probably came in through the front. He could have easily concealed himself behind those trees and waited for her to come home. It's late. She's tired. I talked to her supervisor this morning when I called to get her next-of-kin info. He said she'd had a little too much of the punch at her retirement party. When I first called he thought I was calling to say she'd been hauled in for DUI."

"So she's unsteady on her feet," Jack said. "He waits for her to open the front door, then pushes in behind her and knocks her into the post."

"He surprised Caitlin inside the house. He was waiting for Penny outside in the cold. Why didn't he just break in?" Mia scanned the wall. "I don't see an alarm panel."

"There isn't one," Solliday said. "Here or on the back door."

"That doesn't make sense," she said with a frown. "He waits for her outside in twenty-degree weather, pushes his way in, overpowers her, then forces her to the kitchen where he shoots her, sets the place on fire, then steals her car."

"We found her car yet?" Jack asked.

"Not yet." Mia looked around the foyer. "Did you sweep this area?"

"Twice," Jack said dryly. "Debris's on its way to the lab."

She ignored his tone. "Did you find a shopping bag of presents? Or a briefcase?"

"No, neither."

"Her supervisor said she left the party at 11:15 last night with a bag full of gifts and her briefcase. He thought we'd find her Day Planner in the briefcase."

"It was late," Solliday said. "Maybe she left the bags in her car."

"Maybe." Mia drew in a breath. "I'd sure as hell like to have her Day Planner."

Jack made a sympathetic grimace. "No chance she had GPS in her car?"

"No. Her car was ten years old and her son said she didn't have any fancy electronics." She blew out a breath. "I'm still stuck on why he waited for her here. Why didn't he break in the back door like he did at the Doughertys' house? It's not like she had a big… Hell. Wait." Quickly she walked back to the kitchen, and carefully stepped her way across the grid to the cabinet. It had collapsed along with the counter. Glass and ceramic pieces littered the floor. "Did you check through this stuff yet, Ben?"

"Not yet," Ben said.

Mia crouched down and started picking through the pottery.

Jack crouched down next to her. "What are you looking for?"

"Something like… this." She pulled a thick fragment out of the pile, between her thumb and forefinger. She wiped the fragment clean and held it up. "Paw print."

Solliday sucked in one cheek. "A dog dish. She had a dog."

"Who is AWOL," Mia said flatly. "I don't get this guy. He lays in wait for this woman, shoots her and leaves her to burn, but he spares the dog just like he spared Percy."

"He doesn't fit the profile," Solliday said. "Most arsonists would have killed the pets."

"None of the neighbors mentioned a dog," Mia said. "Why not?"

Solliday's brows rose. "Let's ask them."

"I have Mr. Wright's number." She dialed her cell. "Mr. Wright? This is Detective Mitchell. I talked to you last night. I have a question. Did Mrs. Hill have a dog?"

"No, but her daughter did. I didn't even think… Oh, God, that poor animal. He was a nice dog, too. Her daughter's apartment didn't allow dogs, so Penny kept the dog."

"Daughter's dog," Mia mouthed. "What kind of dog is it, Mr. Wright?"

"Golden retriever, Great Dane mix. He was huge, but friendly. Penny would joke…"

Mia could hear him take a shuddering breath. "She would joke what?" she asked.

"That the dog was so friendly it would lead a burglar to the silver for a Milkbone."

"Mr. Wright, if you see him wandering the neighborhood, can you call me? Thank you." She hung up with a sigh. "Big dog. Dane-golden mix. That's why he waited. The dog was big. He thought he was vicious."

"But he didn't shoot him when he had the chance." Solliday commented.

"Have you talked to the daughter?" Jack asked.

"No. I called a half dozen times and we stopped by her apartment, but the landlord said she hadn't been home since Saturday morning. Her car's gone."

"You checked the inside of her place?"

"Under the circumstances we thought it was prudent," Solliday said. "But she wasn't there. Her answering machine was flashing with a number of calls. Mia called for a warrant, so if we don't hear from her in a few hours, we'll go back."

Mia blinked, a little startled at hearing him use her first name. He'd started calling Jack by his first name, too. Apparently the lieutenant was feeling more at home. Unfortunately Mia wasn't ready to let him settle in. She was still Abe's partner.

But before she could reply, Solliday's cell phone rang. "It's Barrington," he told them. "What do you have, Sam?" He listened for a moment. "We'll be right down." He flipped his phone closed, his mouth gone flat. "He's got something."

Tuesday, November 28, 1:35 p.m.

"He's autopsying somebody else's case right now," Sam's tech told them, motioning to the door. "You can go in and talk to him through the glass."

"Can't he come out here?" Mitchell asked, then squared her jaw. "I just ate, okay?"

The tech chuckled. "I'll tell him you're here."

"Hill's body is going to be worse than an autopsy," Reed cautioned quietly.

"1 know. I remember." She closed her eyes for a second, just long enough for a shudder to shake her. "I hate to watch them cutting. I know it makes me a wuss, but-"

"It's all right, Mia," he interrupted.

"So we're on a first name basis now," she said. "I thought you'd slipped before. You must have decided to keep me after all," she added, her voice hard with sarcasm.

"The first time was a slip," he admitted. "But why stand on formality now?"

"Why indeed?" she murmured, then turned as Sam emerged, pulling at the surgical mask he wore. "What do you have?" she asked.

Sam walked to a sheet-covered body. "Your vie had carbon monoxide in her lungs."

"Whoa," she said.

"Wait," Reed said at the same time. "CSU found blood at the scene. We thought he'd shot her like he shot Caitlin Burnette."

"No. X-rays show skull shattering, consistent with the pressure caused by the high temperature. No vent holes this time. She was alive when the fire started."

Mitchell's brows had snapped together. "How long was she alive?"

"Carbon monoxide levels indicate maybe two to five minutes. Not much more."

Reed was almost afraid to ask. "Was she conscious?"

"I didn't find any evidence of pre-mortem head trauma."

Mitchell's face had gone a bit pale. Reed drew a breath, unable to imagine the pain the woman must have experienced if she had been conscious. Grasping at straws, he asked, "Is it possible she was drugged, Sam?"

"I've sent out for a tox screen to look for drugs in her system. Her bladder was essentially destroyed, so I couldn't do a urine tox. The blood samples I took indicated a blood alcohol level of.08. That's a lot of alcohol for a woman of her size."

"She'd been to a party," Mitchell murmured, then straightened her spine and strengthened her voice. "If he didn't shoot her, then where did the blood come from?"

Carefully Barrington pulled back the sheet and Reed felt Mitchell tense beside him. "I have to be careful," Barrington said. "The body's very fragile. But come here." He moved to one side, motioning them closer. "Look at her arms."

Hill's torso was black, but her arms and legs were blistered, the skin loose and… Reed's stomach took a roll and beside him, Mitchell's swallow was audible.

"God," she murmured, then again straightened. "Her arms looked blacker before."

"Soot. We had to swab the skin. Her torso took the greatest brunt of the fire. It's really difficult to totally destroy an adult body in a house fire," Barrington said, as if lecturing med school students. "The body is composed of so much water."