“She was from Cleveland, worked as a clerk in a mall before she was reported missing about six months ago. Recently, her body was found in a wooded area near the edge of the city. She was murdered.”

Lisa’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widened.

“I have to ask you,” Reddick said. “You’re absolutely certain that you did not know her?”

Staring hard at the photos and thinking, Jeff shook his head, then looked at Lisa who was shaking hers. “No, we don’t know her,” he said. “Why would we? Just because we’re from Cleveland? It’s a big city.”

“Can you tell us why you’re asking us this?” Lisa was uneasy.

“As I said, it’s fairly standard,” Reddick said. “We have nothing to confirm that this is related to Loften and his crimes against you. When we get cases like Loften’s, we enter details into databases, and it’s common that we get queries to check against cases from other jurisdictions. My apologies if we’ve alarmed you.”

Jeff was nodding and beginning to remove his tie. “Okay,” he said. “Is that it?”

“That’s it. Thanks for your help, guys.”

After the call, Lisa looked at Jeff, her face creased with worry. “Routine?” she said. “Something’s happening.”

He took her into his arms. “Honey, I know it’s upsetting.”

“I’m scared, Jeff. What if that woman’s murderer is connected to Loften?”

“He didn’t say it was connected.”

“Not in so many words but—but—Loften threatened to come back and—and—”

“Lisa,” he said and held her tighter. “Lisa. He’s locked up, and he’s going to stay locked up. It’s clear that they’re just checking him against other cases and, like Reddick said, it’s routine. We’ve got enough to deal with right now. We don’t need to imagine more trouble, all right?”

Lisa pulled away, touching the corners of her eyes, finding a degree of composure. “You better hurry up,” she said.

45

It was late in the afternoon when Detectives Cruz and Reddick met with FBI agent Terri Morrow at the Miami-Dade County Pre-Trial Detention Center to interview Loften.

After they passed through the security process, a correctional officer led them to an administrative section of the institution and introduced them to a sober-faced young woman. She had large glasses and was wearing a blazer and skirt. She was talking with two grim-looking men. The white-haired man was Captain Jasper Smith. The man with salt-and-pepper hair was Lieutenant Deon Johnson.

“Agent Morrow, Detectives,” Smith said. “As we were telling Ms. Pond here from the Public Defender’s office, we’re sorry to inform you that it appears that inmate Loften has been killed.”

“What?” Reddick said.

“What do you mean by it appears Loften’s been killed?” Morrow asked.