“Well, that would be impossible. She's been dead for years.”
Rob’s face fell, and he placed a hand on my knee. His touch on my bare skin caused a wave of desire to roll through me, and I involuntarily took in a breath. When he heard me, he glanced down at his hand and removed it immediately.
He cleared his throat. “Oh, I'm sorry about your mother. I didn’t know.”
“It's fine. Anytime we talked, it ended up in a fight, so it was more peaceful to ignore each other. But after I removed my sister from my mother’s toxic household and moved her in with me, we never spoke again. My mother never forgave me for taking my sister away from her.” I wished I could just stop talking, but Rob was a kind man and a good listener, plus his smile could melt a glacier. Taking a calming breath, I said, “But this isn’t a first date conversation, is it? I’m sorry. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, so I’m not myself. Tell me about your day.” I dug back into my food, hoping to signal that I was done talking for a while.
He seemed somewhat taken aback, but he got the hint and moved on. “Big day at work. I had to spend the day pushing reporters back from Mayor Cooper’s house.” He cast a worried look at me. “I don’t know if this is a better subject for you, though.”
“What, about Dudley Cooper being arrested? I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do.” Other than try to convince Baxter to look at a few more suspects, even though he’d repeatedly told me to stay out of it.
We ate in silence for a while, then Rob finally asked, “Do you think Dudley is innocent?”
“Yes, I do. Even if they have evidence on him, it doesn’t make sense to me that he would do such a thing. I’m with the man every day. He’s no sociopath.”
“I heard on the news that he and the girl had an affair. People do crazy things when love is involved. I see a lot of that in my profession. Many of my clients retain my services for help with stalkers, who are often their former lovers.” He hesitated. “I’ve seen…quite a few women coming and going from Dudley’s place. He’s not the altar boy you might think him to be.”
I shook my head. “I’m well aware of his reputation, and it doesn’t concern me. The problem I have is that it takes a certain kind of mindset to be capable of ending someone’s life. That’s the piece of the puzzle missing for me.”
“I’ve heard he’s a person of interest in yesterday’s murder as well.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “He had no reason to—” Abruptly, I stopped myself. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to spill my guts to this guy. “Sorry, I can’t talk about that case.”
He raised his eyebrows, his eyes registering shock. “That’s the case you were consulting on yesterday?”
I slapped my forehead in frustration. “I’ve said too much. I need to quit talking.”
Grinning, he set his food aside and said, “I have an idea.”
He stroked my cheek and drew my face close to his, kissing me lightly at first, then much more deeply. I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling myself closer to him. I wanted nothing more than to forget about the horrible week I’d had, and being intimate with Rob was creating a euphoria that succeeded in pushing everything else out of my head. This time I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop after a couple of kisses. I wanted more. I needed it. I snaked one hand up his shirt and ran my fingers over the taught muscles of his back. With my other hand, I began tugging at his belt.
He broke our kiss. His eyes seemed worried. “Ellie, wait. I don’t want you to think I brought you out here because I expect something from you. Far from it. I thought a quiet spot would help you relax after a busy couple of days.”
I put my hands on his chest and pushed him down onto the blanket. I threw one leg over him and straddled him, my skirt hitching up around my hips. “I thought we said we weren’t going to talk.”
Rob smiled. “Yes, but I didn’t think we—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. The euphoria was back, and it didn’t take long until we were one, our bodies moving in sync.
Afterward, he lay on top of me for a moment, breathing but not speaking. He then rolled over beside me and peered out into the twilight, as if to make sure no one had seen us. “That was unexpected…but great. I’ve never…uh…done that here.”
I had, but I wasn’t going to admit it to him.
He continued, “I hope you don’t think I was too forward.”
I sighed. I usually attracted assholes, not nice guys, and Rob really was a nice guy, going so far as to apologize for me wantonly throwing myself at him. “No, I don’t think that. If anything, it was me.” I looked away.
He touched my cheek, turning my face back toward his. “I didn’t mean I’m sorry it happened.” Leaning down, he kissed me, leaving me breathless again and unable to reply. He added, “In fact, I’d like to do it again sometime. Soon.”
“Me, too,” I said quietly, a lump in my throat. To make sure he wouldn’t want to retract his last statement, I thought it best to end our date on a good note, rather than running my mouth again. Glancing at my watch, I said, “I don’t want to leave, but I think I should probably be getting back.”
“I understand. Duty calls.”
Rob and I got up and packed everything back into his vehicle. He didn’t let go of my hand the entire drive back to the station. When I made a move to get out, he stopped me and kissed me again.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t work too hard.”
I smiled. “Thanks again for dinner. I needed to get away for a while.”
Still on cloud nine, I hopped down from Rob’s SUV. The moment I reached the door to the Sheriff’s station, Jason Sterling accosted me.
“Hey, Matthews. Out on a hot date?” he asked, holding the door open for me. His eyes flicked to the top of my head, and he reached up and plucked a piece of grass out of my hair. Smirking, he said, “Looks like you had yourself a roll in the hay. I thought you preferred the men’s room.”
“Go to hell,” I said, pushing past him.
He followed me down the hall, chuckling. “Baxter said you went out with a mall cop. How was that? Did you do it on his Segway, or what?”
I couldn’t punch him, especially in the middle of the Sheriff’s station. I settled for ducking into the women’s restroom and slugging the tampon dispenser, which turned out to be an idiotic mistake that only served to hurt my hand. Taking my time to ensure that Sterling would get bored and leave, I searched my hair for any more telltale plant material and fixed my makeup. My thirty-six hour day was almost over. I only had a couple more hours of work to do, and then I was going home for a much-needed sleep.
Opening the door a crack and finding no one in the hallway, I slipped out the door and headed for the lab. It was well past eight, and I figured the only work I should attempt in my exhausted state was examining and entering fingerprints into AFIS. Beck and his assistant had taken care of quite a few of the fingerprints I gathered, but there were still many to do. I sat down at the AFIS computer and got to work.
“Ellie… Ellie!”
I jumped, nearly falling out of my chair. I looked up at who was yelling my name.
Baxter stood over me. “You okay?”
Not really. I was so groggy and disoriented I couldn’t see straight. “Did I fall asleep?”
He smiled. “I’m afraid so. You were drooling all over the desk.”
Too sleepy to be embarrassed, I wiped my mouth and gave the desk a swipe with the arm of my lab coat. “Did you come in here to tell me again that my reasoning is stupid and my opinion is unwanted?”
Baxter rolled his eyes. “No, I came to tell you that your reasoning wasn’t actually as stupid as I originally thought.”
His comment snapped me awake. “How so?”
“You know the blue glass and pea gravel we found at the apartment? Well…not that I’m supposed to be sharing this, but we found those two kinds of rock plus some crushed limestone where Vasti Mara
is’s shooter was standing. They were in the grass near the spent casings and…other evidence. That’s the link between the crime scenes I’d mentioned. I’m starting to think your Tyler Harris idea isn’t so far-fetched after all.”
“Really?”
Nodding, he said, “I reached out to him tonight. I made him believe I was getting his statement about the protestors at the gala, but what I wanted to find out was what time he left the party. He said he left about forty-five minutes after the blood-throwing incident and then headed downtown to Powell’s campaign office. Trouble is, there are traffic cams in the city, unlike around here, and they show that no one came or went from that office anytime that evening.”
My mouth dropped open. “He has no alibi for the time Vasti Marais was killed, and he lied about it.”
“Exactly.”
“As a family member, it would have been easy for him to gain access to the Cooper house and Mayor Cooper’s rifle.”
“Also correct.”
Hope bubbled up inside me. Baxter was beginning to give serious thought to another suspect, which could only mean good news for Cooper. If the DA didn’t think he had a solid case against him, Cooper could get out of this without being charged.
I said, “That night, I remember Tyler bragging about his kill during the family’s big game hunting trip. He has to be a decent shot if he dropped a moose. Would you say that shows he had means and opportunity?”
“I think it would be safe to assume he did. As for motive, I’d say campaign tactics could be a possibility, but it’s likely there’s more to it than that, given the family connection. However, aside from a gut feeling, the rantings of a murder suspect, and a handful of rocks, we have nothing to connect him to the scene.”
I frowned. “And nothing to connect him to Eli Vanover.”
“That, too.” He furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment. “What about your shoeprint?”
I flipped through the file on my desk and found the measurements I had taken earlier. “From my preliminary analysis, I’d say this print is at least a men’s size twelve, maybe thirteen. Tyler Harris is a little man, so I doubt he has feet that big.”
Baxter rubbed his eyes. “These two cases just keep getting better and better. I think we should call it a night, don’t you? I know I can’t think straight.”
“Sounds good to me.” I locked the case file in the desk drawer, removed my lab coat, and followed Baxter out the door.
I must have seemed out of it, because Baxter took my arm and gave me a good shake. “Don’t fall asleep at the wheel. Do I need to follow you home?”
Chuckling, I said, “No, it’s not far. I can make it.”
“See that you do. I don’t want to be called out to another scene anytime soon.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I slept like the dead for eleven glorious hours, but it wasn’t enough. It would take me a few days to make up for the lost night of sleep, but I was clearer-headed than I’d been yesterday. Needing a Nate fix, I tiptoed into his room while he was sleeping. I loved getting to wake him up in the morning. He always wanted to be carried to the living room and held for a while as he woke up. This morning was no different. He opened one sleepy eye and gave me a lopsided smile, making my heart swell. He held up his little arms to me, and I picked him up out of bed, breathing in his warm, clean scent. We went out to the living room and lay down in the recliner together.
Yawning, he asked, “Auntie Ellie, did you bring me one of your special candies?” The kid’s mind was like a steel trap. He remembered everything.
“Yes, I did. And you can have it with your breakfast, just like I promised, if you were good for your mommy last night. Were you?”
He nodded.
I smiled. “Good boy.”
“Where were you?”
“I had to work, buddy.”
Frowning, he said, “Did that man make you work again instead of coming home to play with me?”
“What man?”
“The one who took you to the Cinderella ball when you looked like Sleepin’ Judy.”
Nate always mispronounced “Sleeping Beauty,” but it was so adorable, neither Rachel nor I had ever corrected him. When he had seen that I was wearing a pink gown to the gala, he equated me with the corresponding pink princess. The kid knew his princess movies—a casualty of being raised by two women.
I sighed, thinking about that night and how things had changed since then. An image of Cooper locked up in a cell popped into my head. I couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been for him to spend last night in jail.
“No. Sheriff Jayne asked me to work with her.”
“Oh, okay. I like Sheriff Jayne.” He looked up at me with expectant eyes. “Will you be home tonight?”
I hated to disappoint him, but I had to tell him the truth. “Probably not, baby. Auntie Ellie is helping Sheriff Jayne catch a bad guy, and it takes a lot of time.”
“Are you a police now?”
“No, I’m the science nerd who helps the police.”
“How?”
“Well, you know how sometimes Auntie Ellie knows you’ve been in the cookie jar without asking?”
He stuck out his lower lip. “Yes.”
“Well, I know because you leave sticky fingerprints and cookie crumbs all over the cookie jar and the kitchen counter. It’s like when Scooby-Doo and the gang find clues to solve their mysteries. The sticky fingerprints and cookie crumbs are my clues. For the mystery Sheriff Jayne is trying to solve, we also have fingerprints that are our clues, and we have special rocks and footprints, too.”
Bored by my kid-friendly forensics lesson, he said, “Can I have my chocolate now?”
***
I did a much better job maintaining the interest of my first class of the day. Granted, I only passed out a test and told them to get to work, but at least no one accused me of being hung over or tried to derail class into a gossip session. Rob texted me and asked about having dinner or coffee this evening, but I declined. If I had even a smidge of free time, I should make an attempt to see my nephew, especially since he’d asked so forlornly this morning. Not to be deterred, Rob asked about lunch the next day, and I did want to see him, so I accepted.
As my class was wrapping up, I received a call from Baxter. “Hey,” he said. “I need you this afternoon. Can you get someone to cover your classes?”
“Seriously? If I skip out on more classes, I’m going to get fired,” I replied.
“I’ve already had the Sheriff speak to your department head. He’s fine with it.”
“You’re thorough, I’ll give you that. What are we doing, anyway?”
“Talking to Tyler Harris. The firearms examiner found a partial print on one of the spent cartridge casings we found at the Marais murder scene, and it turned out to be Tyler’s. We just got the word.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“Interesting twist, huh? His prints are in the system from when he obtained a gun permit. With the evidence we have, we’ll be able to collect his DNA, and then we can run it against the foreign blood found under Eli Vanover’s nails.”
“Why do you need me?”
“You know the guy. Maybe you can get him to talk.”
I was tired of hearing that. I wished I didn’t have a personal connection with so many of our possible suspects. “You know Tyler’s going to lawyer up. We won’t get a word out of him.”
“I think we might. I told him I needed his signature on his statement from yesterday and left out the rest. That way, I figure he’ll leave his lawyer at home.”
“Sneaky.”
“Can you be here by one o’clock?”
“See you then.”
I didn’t like the idea of skipping class again, but if Jayne had spoken to Dr. Graham and he agreed, I guessed it would be okay. I found Samantha and talked her into letting me steal her teaching assistant for the afternoon. I tracked down Samantha’s TA and gave him instructions on what to do with my afternoon classes.
Once I’d cleared my afternoon schedule, I grabbed lunch and ate it on my drive to the Sheriff’s station.
I got there early, so I checked out the pizza box with the phantom shoeprint on it and took it to the lab. After placing it on my work surface, I grabbed the bottle of Bromophenol Blue I had brought from my lab at school. I sprayed a fine mist of the reagent onto the surface of the white cardboard box and waited for a few moments. The shoeprint started to turn blue, but it was still faint. I put it under a strong light and snapped several photos. The last step would be to apply some steam to enhance the Bromophenol Blue solution I had sprayed on the box.
I got out the handheld steamer and allowed it to heat up while I worried over the potential outcome of my work. This part made me nervous, because too much steam could ruin the whole thing. Also, if the steamer happened to leak and splash any water droplets onto my shoeprint, it would distort the image.
Once the steamer was ready, I made one pass with it over the shoeprint. The steam seemed to make the blue stand out, so I waited thirty seconds and made another pass. It helped a little more, so I chanced one more pass with the steamer. The shoeprint came to life, and I could even read the words from the bottom of the sole: timberland and gripstick.
I rifled through my file to find my notes and photos from the shoeprint on the side of the folding chair. The word I had thought was “stick” was in fact “Gripstick,” and the shoe treads from the chair were a visual match to the treads from the pizza box. Hallelujah.
I took dozens of shots of my shoeprint, with the scale and without, and with various types of lighting. Now that the print was clear and visible, I measured it again, coming up with a length of twelve and a half inches. By my calculation, that meant the shoe’s size was either a twelve or twelve and a half, but I was no expert. For the shoeprint to be used as evidence in a trial, I needed someone at the state lab to determine the exact model and size of the shoe, and if necessary, even the individual wear pattern. I emailed my pictures of the prints to the experts and set the box aside to dry before repackaging it and returning it to evidence. I also emailed a photo of the shoeprint and a brief explanation of my findings to Baxter and Sterling.
Bitter Past Page 18