When he rose with the sun, he was firing on a few more cylinders as he stood, coffee in hand, at the back window of his Liberty Hill home. He stared out over the patchy green grass, firepit, and large mesquite trees now shrouded in a thick layer of fog. The house itself was rough and likely had not been updated since the eighties, but it had come with land. Though the house and land required his time, neither made him feel guilty nor reminded him of his failures.

He refilled his travel mug and, on his phone, checked local media sites for any coverage of the case. Two stations and the papers had picked it up. The reporters had spit out the basic details given at yesterday’s meeting. One article featured a picture of him at the podium, Lee and Poe behind him. Poe was looking at him, and her expression was intense. If looks could kill.

Another article had gone so far as to describe the bodies being wrapped “King Tut” or “mummy” style. They were the kind of monikers that boiled a case down to a noun that was easy to picture but missed the mark on a number of levels. Still, if a nickname prompted someone to call the new tip line with a legitimate lead, it would be worth it. Tip calls were rarely productive because people misread what they saw; there were crackpots and, his very favorite, the psychics. But the one diamond in the rough would make the hours of confused, crank, or crazy calls worth it.

Next he checked email, scanning quickly until he spotted one from Detective Poe to Dr. Faith McIntyre. Poe had copied him.

The doctor’s reply was addressed to both Jordan Poe and him. Detective Poe, I just received the arrest records for Tammy Fox and Susan Wallace and will cross-check their DNA and fingerprints against the two Jane Does. I’ll update you soon on my findings.

He was not surprised Jordan was still working the case, but he did not like it.

He hit “Reply All” and ordered the DNA and fingerprint findings directed to him. “I’ll give you this one, Poe,” he said. “But that’s it.”

Irritated, he dropped his gaze to the crime scene photos from the first Jane Doe “Mummy” murder. He had not walked that crime scene yet, and now that the case was his, he needed to see it for himself. The department had put a hold on renovation on the property, but the longer he lingered, the angrier Mr. King would get, and the likelier the crime scene would be compromised.