by Kara Lennox
And possibly saved all of their lives, she reminded herself. His actions were entirely justified. But that fact didn’t stop her stomach from roiling. She was supposed to be a professional; working static crime scenes, even bloody murder scenes, didn’t bother her the way a living, breathing, bleeding person did.
“Son-of-a-friggin’-gun,” Larry said, actually smiling as Dwayne hoisted him to his feet. “Mitch Delacroix, is that you?”
“Sure is. How you been?” Mitch sounded as friendly as if they’d just met in a bar.
“Oh, you know, up and down. Little bit down right now.”
“I’ll say,” Dwayne muttered. “You’re about to be charged with attempted murder.”
“Aw, hell, I wasn’t aiming to hit anybody. Just didn’t want anybody pokin’ around. If people’d just leave me alone when I want ’em to, I’d be fine.”
Maybe Larry hadn’t meant to kill somebody, but Beth remembered hearing that bullet whiz right past her head.
Dwayne patted Larry down, then searched his pockets. “I won’t find any needles, will I, Larry?”
“Naw, I don’t do that stuff. Just booze, mostly, when my pain pills run out. Hurt my back a few years ago.”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Dwayne began, but Larry interrupted.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take me to jail. Maybe I’ll luck out and they’ll actually feed me.”
Dwayne escorted Larry outside and cuffed him to the stair railing. “Just sit here for a bit.”
“Okay.” Larry sat on the rickety steps, meek as a milk cow. He didn’t seem overly bothered about being arrested.
Dwayne returned and, having put on a pair of blue gloves, collected Larry’s gun and put it in a plastic bag. “Crazy as a bedbug,” he muttered. “Lucky I didn’t blow his head off.”
Once that chore was taken care of, Beth did what she came to do—search for any signs of a murder scene. There wasn’t much to search; just one room of the shack remained intact. The collapsed portion of the house wasn’t safe, but she could bring out a specialized team with the right equipment and safety gear, and they could take down the shack timber by timber.
But that decision would be up to Raleigh, and Daniel, since the cost to Project Justice would be high. Daniel never scrimped, so if Raleigh thought it was important, she would make it happen. But only if they found some evidence that this location was important to their case.
Beth handed each person a garbage bag from her kit, then assigned each of them one quarter of the room to examine. They searched first with only their eyes, then began removing trash and debris, most of which looked far more recent than twelve years old.
“I remember this table,” Mitch said, referring to a wobbly, three-legged table that had long ago lost any semblance of form or finish. “And this rag-and-rope rug. I think it used to be in the other room, when there was another room.”
That was encouraging news. If furnishings had survived, so might evidence.
“Let’s move the rug,” Beth said.
“You can if you want,” Dwayne said with a snort. “God knows what’s living under there.”
Beth wasn’t afraid of creepy crawlers so long as they weren’t the lethally poisonous variety. She grabbed one end of the rug and folded it in half. Mitch helped her pick it up and heave it off to the side. The rug could be a gold mine of physical evidence, since it obviously hadn’t been cleaned in twenty years. But she wouldn’t devote her resources to it yet; just getting it out of this swamp and back to Houston would be a logistical challenge.
The wood planks on which the rug had lain were less worn than the rest of the floor, but mottled with all kinds of stains. Beth squatted down to have a closer look.
Her heart beat a bit faster. “This could be blood,” she announced.
“Where? Lemme see.” Dwayne dropped to his hands and knees, getting almost nose to nose with the stains in question. “Hard to tell. Looks like leftover wood stain to me.”
“If Beth says it’s blood, it’s blood.” Mitch sounded upbeat for the first time that day.
Beth produced an X-Acto knife from her kit and started chipping up bits of the wood floor.
“Ah, maybe you should leave the evidence collecting for the police,” Dwayne said.
“Since this isn’t an official crime scene,” Beth said carefully, “it should be okay for me to take a few samples. I’ll give some to you, and you can take it to your crime lab. But our lab is accredited, and we have some of the best, most modern equipment in the country. Plus, we can move faster.”
“The parish lab does get backed up.” But Dwayne did accept her offer to collect evidence for both of them. She quickly labeled two plastic bags, put splinters in each of them, and handed one to Dwayne.
“Hold your horses, I found something,” Raleigh announced. She was peering at a window frame that was half-rotted and riddled with holes. Beth came closer. One of those holes had a bullet in it.
“This isn’t your bullet, is it, Dwayne?” Beth asked.
“Can’t be. I only fired one round, and I made sure I aimed well over the roof.”
“Here’s another one,” Mitch said excitedly, pointing to a spot a few inches away.
Beth scanned the wall, feeling like she was on a macabre Easter egg hunt. “There’s a hole near the roofline. Is that one?”
Dwayne dragged over a milk crate and stood on it. “Sure is. Good eyes. Now there’s nothin’ that says these bullets have anything to do with Robby Racine. Hell, for all we know, Crazy Larry’s been shooting the walls. But I think, given what we’ve found, I should call in an evidence team to do a proper search.”
“Agreed.” Beth hated to give up the scene just when good stuff was turning up, but Dwayne was right. An official team should examine the area, take measurements and photos in case what they found turned out to be relevant.
“I don’t trust the locals,” Mitch said flatly.
Dwayne punched his brother on the arm. “Don’t be paranoid. We got good evidence people. Most of ’em don’t know you, never heard of you, and they aren’t going to manufacture evidence or perjure themselves. And if you want, you can send one of your people to observe.”
Beth had taken out her camera and was snapping pictures of the bullets they’d found. “There are lots of projectiles here,” she observed. “I’m going to remove a couple, but I’ll tag where I took them from.”
“No, Beth,” Dwayne said. “If this is a crime scene, we need to let it alone.”
Damn. “Get your people out here tomorrow morning, then. I’ll be here to observe.”
“That settles that.” Dwayne headed for the stairs. “Meanwhile, I have a suspect I have to transport back to—” He went suddenly silent, then swore viciously.
Soon they all saw what had caused the reaction. Crazy Larry had broken the stair railing he’d been cuffed to. He was nowhere to be seen.
Frustration welled up in Beth’s chest. Larry could be the key to everything. He might even be the real murderer, trying to scare them away from the scene of the crime. They’d had him, and now he was gone, and he wouldn’t be easy to find again.
“Got a present for you,” Mitch whispered in her ear. His warm breath tickled her hair.
“What?”
He took her hand and pressed something small. When she examined his gift, she realized it was a bullet.
“THERE’S NO NEED FOR YOU to stay in a hotel,” Myra said to Beth. On the way back from the swamp, Beth had decided she would spend the night in Coot’s Bayou, since the evidence team would gather at the shack early tomorrow morning. But when Myra overheard her plans to rent a room, she wouldn’t hear of it.
“The closest motel is the Sleepy Time, next town over, and I hear they have bedbugs. Lake Charles has all the chain motels, but that’s miles away and you don’t even have a car.”
“I was planning to rent one.”
“Nearest rental car place is at the Lake Charles airport. No reason for you to go to
all that trouble when I have a perfectly good guest room here. You’re in the country, now, not some big city. You can even borrow my car tomorrow if you need to.”
“That’s awful nice of you, Mrs. LeBeau—”
“Please, call me Myra. And I’d be pleased to have you as a guest. You’re trying to help Mitch and I would be one ungrateful witch if I didn’t do everything possible to help you out.”
“Where is Mitch, anyway?” Raleigh asked.
“I imagine he’s out back tending the livestock. That was always his chore when he was a boy, and old habits die hard.”
“Livestock?”
“Just a few chickens and a couple of goats.”
The sound of tires crunching in the gravel driveway caught their attention. Beth and Raleigh stepped out onto the porch as two vehicles pulled up. One of them Beth recognized as Mitch’s classic metallic gold El Camino, which he’d restored to pristine condition. The other was a red BMW. The Beamer’s door opened and a long, tanned leg emerged.
“Daniel’s new administrative assistant, Elena,” Raleigh whispered as the statuesque blonde emerged. The driver’s door of Mitch’s car opened and out hopped Celeste, spry as a twenty-year-old.
“Yee-hah, that El Camino has some get-up-and-go!” Celeste’s costume today was relatively tame—a pair of striped capri pants and an aqua cardigan cinched with a black patent-leather belt. Aqua wedge sandals completed the outfit.
The black dog, which Beth had learned was named Poppy, bounded off the porch to bark at the new visitors, wagging her tail to show she wanted to make friends.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to keep up with you?” Elena grinned at Celeste, clearly enjoying herself. “It’s a miracle neither of us got a ticket.”
Though she looked like a model, Elena was ultraprofessionally dressed in a suit and pumps. She mounted the porch, hand outstretched.
“Hello, Raleigh, nice to see you again.” She shook hands with Raleigh. “And you must be Beth. Daniel sent some clothes and things for you and Mitch, along with all of Mitch’s computer toys.”
Celeste didn’t bother with any niceties. She had her gun out and was stalking the driveway. “Hey,” she called over one shoulder. “What’s hunting season for ’gators, anyway? I’m about due for a new pair of boots.”
Beth shared a look with Raleigh. “How did Daniel know I was going to stay overnight, when I didn’t know myself until an hour ago?”
Elena shrugged. “Sometimes he just knows.” She glanced at Beth’s mud-stained dress and bare feet, then at Raleigh, who was in a similar state of dishabille. “Apparently I arrived in the nick of time.”
Raleigh made quick introductions, but Elena and Celeste didn’t stick around. After a brief argument over who would drive, Celeste claimed the keys and slid behind the wheel of Elena’s car, which was out of earshot by the time Mitch reappeared.
Seeing his car filled with computer equipment, his eyes brightened. “Finally. I can make myself useful.”
“And I need to get on the road,” Raleigh announced. She gave Mitch a careful hug, mindful of the fact he’d showered and changed his clothes while she remained a mess. “Hang in there. And call me if you need anything at all.” She hugged Beth, too. “Are you okay with this?” she whispered. “I can drop you at a hotel on my way home.”
Beth wasn’t okay with sleeping under the same roof as Mitch. Knowing he was so close, in bed, possibly naked, would make sleep impossible. She would have much preferred a private hotel room and a long hot soak in a tub. But to make a fuss seemed rude and ungrateful when Myra was going out of her way to be accommodating. Plus, Beth sensed Mitch needed someone there to quell the tension that filled the air between him and his mother.
“I’m good. If you could drop these samples from the shack by the lab tomorrow morning and let Cassie get started on them, that would be great.” She’d already handed off the splinters and the illegally obtained slug to Raleigh.
“I will. Call if you need anything.”
Mitch was unloading his computer from the back of the El Camino even before the dust from Raleigh’s departure settled. He did tend to get twitchy if he was away from his bits and bytes for too long. Checking email on his iPhone only went so far.
“Need a hand?” she asked.
“I got it. But you can grab one of those little suitcases if you want.”
Fresh clothes. Yes, she would. “Are you okay with me staying here?” She probably should have asked him before she accepted Myra’s invitation.
“Beth, I’ve pretty much quit trying to bend events the way I want them. No, I’m not really okay with any of this. Bad enough I have to stay here, and now you’re stuck here, too.”
“You’ll only have to put up with me for one night.” She tried not to sound as offended as she felt. He didn’t want to date her, she got that, but she’d hoped they could somehow remain friends.
“It’s not me who has to worry. It’s you.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You haven’t spent enough time with Myra and Davy yet.”
Beth supposed everyone was a little embarrassed by their parents. She could remember cringe-worthy times when her father interrogated boyfriends she and her sisters brought home, or when her mother brought out the photo albums or force-fed her friends her awful broccoli casserole.
Mitch flashed her a sad half smile. “You’ve been warned.”
While Mitch set up his computer, she took the opportunity to freshen up. Inside the small rolling bag Elena had packed she found two changes of clothes. Not her clothes, but they were exactly her size and taste. How Elena accomplished this feat was amazing. She’d even provided Beth with toiletries and a blow-dryer.
Myra’s house had only one bathroom, with no tub, but it was clean and functional. Beth figured her little floral dress was probably ruined. That was what she got for wearing such girlie clothes. On some subconscious level she was probably trying to impress Mitch. She folded the ruined garment and set it on the vanity, then scrubbed herself in the shower until she was sure no mud remained on her skin, and no bugs in her hair.
A few minutes later she was reasonably well-groomed. As she exited the bathroom, she could smell dinner cooking.
“Corn bread,” she murmured, realizing she was starving. Since both of Beth’s parents had held down full-time jobs, their family dinners had mostly been takeout or convenience foods, but her grandmother had occasionally stayed with them and cooked meals from scratch. The memory of fried shrimp and hush puppies flooded her brain and gave her a warm feeling. Maybe staying with Mitch and his family wouldn’t be so bad after all.
ONCE MITCH GOT HIS COMPUTER set up, he quickly lost himself in cyberspace.
Finding Crazy Larry on the web was a low priority now that he knew his old friend was somewhere in town. Mitch intended to search—in person—all the places he knew of where homeless people hung out. But first he had lots of other tasks to accomplish online.
Robby’s old girlfriend, Amanda, was easy to find. She was married to a long-haul trucker and still living in town. He made a note of her address.
He was about to move on to the next task when he heard a noise behind him and turned. Beth stood in the doorway, fresh from her shower and wearing tight jeans and a tailored shirt that accentuated her full breasts, and Mitch instantly salivated.
They locked gazes for a couple of seconds before he dredged up a smile that would hopefully erase the naked lust that must have shown on his face.
“I’m done with the bathroom if you need it,” she said. “Are you finding anything?”
“Got Robby’s girlfriend’s current address.”
“Wow, that was fast.”
“I was just about to see if I could locate the owner of the stolen car.”
“How are you gonna do that?”
“Ah…you don’t really want to know.”
“Mitch, you aren’t going to hack into a police department computer, are you? Aren’t you in enoug
h trouble? Dwayne was going to get the name for you.”
“They’ll never know I was there. When I was at the cop shop earlier, I noticed they were still using the same computer system as when I worked there. Amazing they haven’t updated in six years.”
“But surely they’ve upgraded their security. Changed passwords and all that.”
“Maybe. Sure, but no good hacker works on any system without leaving himself a back door.”
“A secret way into the system?” She came closer, peering at the computer screen as if intrigued despite her disapproval.
Oh, God, she smelled great. Like…like chocolate and raspberry.
This scent had to be his favorite so far.
He forced himself to focus on the keyboard and screen. “Let’s just see.” He knew the website address from memory and called it up, then converted it to code and added his secret phrase, which brought him to another web page—one no one but him would ever find. It asked for a password, and he entered it.
And just like that, he was in.
“Oh, my God. Mitch. Is that what I think it is? You’re actually in their computer system?”
“Moving through like a ghost. Let’s just hope that when my arrest record was expunged, they didn’t actually obliterate the file.” He sifted through the archives, and within five minutes he’d found it. He read through the initial incident report and made note of the complainant’s name—Harvey Clayton.
How could he have forgotten that name?
“You got it? Just like that?”
“What can I say? I’m good, baby.”
The report didn’t mention any witnesses, only the name of the grocery store manager who provided the police with the surveillance video.
“Is your arrest record there?” Beth asked, so close he could feel her hair tickling his.
“Can’t find it. Maybe they really did delete it.”
Before he pulled out of the police computer, he did a quick search on Harvey’s name. “Whew, look at this. Guy’s got a criminal record. Violent crime. Assault and battery. Armed robbery.” Whether Harvey had anything to do with Robby’s death or not, he made a dandy suspect.