She stepped to the board and jotted down the street name of the three burned buildings they would investigate—Rivercrest in Lost Creek, Sandy Point in Seaview Cove, and Shoreline Drive in Astoria.
She capped the marker and faced the group. “I’ve given this some thought, and our first step is to find out if the physical buildings have anything in common. Other than they weren’t currently in use.”
“I’ll search property records,” Eryn offered. “Maybe the owners are linked somehow.”
“Perfect,” Sam said. “Can you go back for quite a few years in case this is related to a past owner?”
“Will do.” She made a note on a yellow legal pad. “And I’ll also look to see if the owners planned anything with any of the other places.”
“You mean like develop them?” Gage perched on the corner of the table.
“Yeah. Could be they were up for sale and the fires are related to that.”
“It’s possible if they’re all the same owner we could be looking at arson for insurance money,” Griff suggested.
“Only one problem with that theory,” Gage said. “The fire marshal already looked into the buildings. They’re owned by separate corporations.”
“Do you know if he dug into the company backgrounds?” Eryn asked. “They could be shell companies and all lead back to the same owner.”
Gage nodded. “But I doubt he was as thorough as I know you’ll be.”
“You got that right.” Trey grinned fondly at his wife and rested an arm on the back of her chair. “No one is more thorough than Eryn in record searches.”
“That’s not news to us,” Coop grumbled.
“I know.” Trey smiled. “But the new guy doesn’t know that.”
Griff kind of liked being called the “new guy” as if he were one of the team. But he couldn’t be. He’d been injured as a SEAL. Took a few bullets, survived a grenade blast, but none of the injuries gave him a permanent disability. Thank God for that.
“Connected or not, today’s fire could still be arson,” Jackson said.
“But if that’s the case, why try to kill me?” Sam’s forehead furrowed.
Griff had the urge to go to her and press out the wrinkle between her eyes. He never did like seeing her unhappy, but even more, he hated that someone had tried to murder her. “The fire that killed Andy was ruled accidental, and you were poking around. Maybe the arsonist worried you were on to something.”
“I agree,” Riley said. “I know it seems extreme, but the suspect could go away for years for arson, and he would want to avoid that.”
“Well, he won’t.” She popped the top off the marker. “The arsonist—hopefully—left a boot print on the landing, maybe from stepping in gasoline, and I have pictures of that.”
She made a category on the board labeled LEADS and wrote boot print beneath it. “I’ll check with a shoe expert I know to see if he can help with the print. I’m also hoping to get fingerprints and DNA from the locking bar that I brought back with me. I’ll process the bar when we finish here.”
She added fingerprints and DNA to the list.
Gage stood and leaned against the wall. “You have someone at PPB who’ll run those prints?”
Sam nodded. “But we’ll have to send out the DNA unless you want to buy me a machine.” She chuckled.
“Glad you know it’s a joke.” He smiled. “I’ve seen the price. Not in this year’s budget for sure. But I promise you’ll be the first to know when that becomes a reality.”
“Be still my heart.” She fanned her face.
“Hey, if we’re putting in equipment requests…” Alex laughed.
“See the can of worms you opened, Sam?” Gage mocked an upset look.
“You’re gonna have to do a better job of mastering that stern look if you don’t want us all to beg for equipment.” Riley chuckled.
“Hey.” Gage held up his hands. “I just bought you a pretty new rifle.”
“That you did, boss. That you did.” A dreamy look consumed Riley’s face, and Griff totally understood the sentiment.
“I should’ve called Blake, I suppose,” Sam said, reeling them all back in. She turned to write Andy’s phone on the board. “Gage, can you check with him to see if he found Andy’s cell?”
“Blake?” Griff asked.
“County sheriff, and he’s a real stickler for procedure so I…” Sam clamped her mouth closed.
“You didn’t want to miss the chance to process the scene,” Riley said.
As a former police officer, Griff expected him to sound mad at her for ignoring protocol, but he didn’t seem upset in the least. These people really did have each other’s backs, and Griff liked that.
“I, for one, think you did the right thing, Sam,” Coop said. “Blake wouldn’t tell us a thing except maybe confirm he has Andy’s phone. And maybe not even that.”
“But I’ll still ask.” Gage was frowning, but Griff didn’t know why.
“Andy might’ve left a phone bill at my place,” Griff said. “We could look tomorrow, and that would at least give us his cell service provider.”
“Good.” Eryn rubbed her hands together and grinned. “I have contacts at most of the telecoms. If you can find a bill, I can get his records.”
Griff couldn’t hide his surprise. “You can do that? Without a warrant I mean?”
“Let’s just say there are many people who owe my wife favors and leave it at that.” Trey chuckled.
Sam noted arson samples on the board. “I managed to recover a few samples that I need to have processed. Gage, could you ask the fire marshal who he recommends for that?”
“I’ll ask, but you know he recovered his own samples.”
“I do, and I honestly don’t think mine will show anything different, but I want to cover all my bases.”
“Then leave the samples with me, and I’ll handle it.”
“Glad to.”
“You mentioned Andy’s phone but what about other possessions?” Riley looked at Griff. “I’m assuming he didn’t bring everything to your place.”
“Very little actually,” Griff said. “The rest is in storage, but I don’t know where. The paperwork might be with his things or maybe his parents have access to the unit.”
“If we don’t find the paperwork at your place, we can ask them,” Sam said.
Once again Griff liked that she said we, as he could only interpret that to mean she planned to come along with him. He honestly wasn’t up for facing Andy’s grief-stricken parents. Andy was their only child, and they had to be beyond devastated. They loved Sam. She was once like a daughter to them, and having her along would make things easier for all of them.
Sam kept her gaze on Griff. “And a computer? Did he have one at your house?”
“No. I offered to let him use mine, but he said he could do everything on his phone.”
“I’m going to pretend that I can in any way understand that logic.” Eryn grinned as she tapped her pen on her notepad. “I can also search for any CCTV footage in the area of the buildings.”
“That’s a lot for you to take on, Eryn,” Sam said.
“Piper’s still out of work. I can ask her to help.”
Sam looked at Griff. “Eryn’s friend Piper is an FBI agent who was injured on the job. She’s on leave pending a full recovery.”
“You think that’s going to happen?” Coop asked.
“She’s still hoping it will, but it’s not looking good.” Eryn’s voice broke, and Trey covered her hand with his big mitt. She smiled at her husband, the love so evident in both gazes, it sent a pang of longing through Griff.
“Tell her we continue to pray for her,” Sam said.
Eryn nodded and swiped a hand over glistening eyes.
“I can ask Blake about the other fire that occurred in his jurisdiction,” Gage offered. “I’ll ask if he knows of any connection Andy might have to the other building.”
Sam noted the items on the board. “Let’s move o
n to motives for today’s fire. Was I targeted because I was investigating the arson? Or because of my connection to Andy?”
“I can do a thorough background check on Andy,” Eryn volunteered again. “But I have to warn you that it could turn up things you won’t want to know about your friend.”
“We need to know,” Griff said before Sam could reply. “Even if we don’t like what we learn.”
“Agreed,” Sam said.
Riley shifted in his chair. “Then his friends, parents, and siblings—if he has any, should be interviewed.”
Griff looked at Sam. “We’re the ones to handle that. We know the people in his life. They’ll be more open with us, and if they’re withholding something, we’ll be able to tell.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “You think they might know something about his death?”
“Not about the death per se, but maybe the reason he was in the building.”
“Then I’ll make some phone calls tonight, and we’ll head to Rugged Point tomorrow.”
Griff nodded. He didn’t really want to bother Andy’s parents or bug his friends, but Griff would do whatever he needed to do to get to the bottom of Andy’s death and the attack on Sam.
6
Griff stood behind Sam, his presence seeming to take up every inch of her lab. She’d wanted to develop the prints alone. To get some breathing room and take some time to clear her head about the fire and Griff. She was shocked at how well he fit in with the team—a natural, and she was already imagining him hanging around the group.
She desperately needed space to process her feelings at having him back in her life and almost said he couldn’t accompany her to the lab. But then she liked to encourage other professionals to learn about forensics as she never knew when it might be important. Griff might be at an arson scene in the future and could tell the inspector that prints could be lifted even when caked with soot and to request a criminalist to evaluate probable items. A killer could potentially be stopped by her taking the time to educate others, and her personal feelings should never get in the way of that.
She simply needed to get to work and forget Griff was behind her. She got out a fingerprint brush and gently stroked the bristles over the bar.
She felt him ease closer. “Why are you doing that? Won’t it smudge the prints?”
“I’m trying to remove a bit of the soot to reveal the prints. DNA is usually collected before touching a sample but in this case, I have to get to the layer where any DNA is located. The brush won’t harm the prints, but it could mess up the DNA as the soot may have already done. Still, I have to do it this way to locate the prints, which is our most viable forensic opportunity here.”
Griff leaned closer, and she caught a hint of the cinnamon candy he’d put in his mouth, a common thing for him to carry. “It doesn’t seem to be doing anything, does it?”
“I’ve removed a bit of the soot but clearly not enough. I’ll try tape next.” She took out a roll of common tape and cut off a section.
“Scotch tape? Really? I thought you guys had special tape.”
“We do for actually lifting prints. I’m just using this to better reveal them. It’s less likely to tear, more flexible, and has better surface cohesion than the J-LAR we use for prints. In a sense, this process works in much the same way as if I brushed fingerprint powder on the bar, but I applied too much powder. Not that I would ever do that.” She glanced back at him and laughed.
He laughed with her, but then his humor evaporated, and his gaze heated up. He reached up with his thumb and brushed it over her cheek. “Soot.”
She looked deep into the blue eyes that always stirred her heart, and that was no exception now. She lost all focus and dropped her hands. The tape stuck to the lab table, bringing her back to reality.
Great. She’d just said she would never make a mistake, and she couldn’t even control a piece of tape.
Focus.
She tossed the tangled strip into the trash can and cut another section then pressed it on the bar. She repeated the process until she’d removed additional soot from the entire area, revealing a hodgepodge of prints in the middle. “No chance of lifting anything helpful here. Too many overlapping prints.”
She bent for a closer study of the bar and grabbed a spray bottle. “Before you ask, this is Small Particle Reagent. It’s composed of finely ground particles suspended in a detergent solution. The particles adhere to the fatty constituents of the prints to form a visible deposit.”
She sprayed it on both ends and stood back smiling. “And there you have it. Two beautiful latents. One on each end of the bar.”
She set the bar on the counter. “We’ll wait for this to dry. Then I’ll lift them and send them off to my PPB contact.”
“How long will it take to hear back?”
She glanced at the clock. “The analyst has likely gone home for the day unless he’s on some big investigation. In either event, we won’t hear anything until tomorrow at the soonest. And then it depends on how busy he is. I might have contacts who often help me out, but they have to put me in a queue. If they’re working a major case that takes priority.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his feet at the ankles, looking relaxed and coiled at the same time. He’d always had such an intensity about him, and this more relaxed posture was new. “If your contact is a guy, you should FaceTime him and smile. That ought to get your work moved up the line.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking about the truckie this afternoon. You had him wrapped around your finger.”
“I never asked what a truckie was,” she said, changing the subject. She never intentionally used her looks to get things done at work, but he was right. She did receive special treatment at times because she was a reasonably attractive woman, but it could also go the other way where LEOs didn’t think she was as capable.
“It’s a firefighter who’s assigned to a ladder truck,” he answered, but the raising of his eyebrows said he knew she was purposely changing the subject.
She turned away from him to watch the bar dry. Or more truthfully, to ignore this attraction that was so palpable it seemed as real as the smoke they’d escaped from. They’d both experienced the heightened fascination the minute they met. Going on a date had seemed so natural for both of them, and the first night at dinner proved that the connection needed to be explored.
So they’d started an exclusive relationship and dated for about a year. Three hundred sixty-nine days and twelve hours to be exact, before she called it off. That moment had been so ugly. So painful.
She sighed.
He came to his feet. “Something wrong?”
“No.” She noticed the bar was dry and finished lifting the prints with tape and affixed them to fingerprint cards. Then she scanned the cards and sent the files to her guy at PPB. She grabbed DNA swabs, processed the bar for DNA, and prepared an overnight package. “As you heard in the conversation with Gage, I don’t have the equipment to process DNA so I’m sending the samples to my good friend Emory Steele. She’s a DNA expert in Portland.”
Sam created the label. Griff’s stomach grumbled.
“You’re hungry,” she stated.
“Starving.”
“I should have thought of that. I get totally wrapped up in my work.” She sealed the package.
“No worries. I get it.”
She faced him. “I’ll throw something together for myself tonight so you might as well eat with me. We can also make a list of people to call and get our appointments set up for tomorrow.”
“Wow, thanks for the heartfelt invite.” He grinned at her.
Despite him calling her out on her lack of social graces, she couldn’t help smiling back. Gone was the painful tension, and it suddenly seemed comfortable like old times between them. Which meant it wasn’t a good idea to hang out in this small space any longer or she would soon be in his arms, kissing him.
“Let me just email the boot print image to my expert and we can go.” She fired off the email, asking him to try to narrow down the designer and size. She shut down the computer and tucked the package under her arm which she would drop off first thing in the morning.
“Follow me.” She stepped out the door into the large training area with chairs and tables set up in classroom style. “Tell you what. I’ll make up for my less-than-enthusiastic invite by showing you the equipment room if you’d still like to see it.”
“That oughta do it.” An eager little boy smile crossed his face, so cute and in such contrast to the strong man standing there.
She caught herself staring and forced her feet toward a door at the back wall.
Equipment. Focus on the equipment.
She pressed her thumb on a print reader, and the door clicked open. Lights automatically snapped on, revealing foldaway racks loaded with handguns, assault rifles, and machine guns. The far wall was filled with drying racks holding Kevlar vests. Cabinets contained every type of ammo needed, along with flash bangs. Other cabinets held their electronic equipment and cleaning supplies. The room smelled like a mixture of gunpowder and weapon oil.
She wanted to catch Griff’s reaction, so she entered and turned to watch him.
His mouth dropped open, and he stepped deeper into the space, a dreamy look in his eyes. He went straight for their latest addition with a wall mount of its own, a TrackingPoint M300FE semi-auto 5.56. “This costs like six grand.”
“A steal when all you could buy a few months ago was the thirteen-thousand-dollar model.”
He ran his hand over the barrel and studied the amazing weapon.
“You want to shoot it don’t you?” she asked.
“Is it that obvious?” He looked at her, his face illuminated with joy, and she had to take in a gulp of air.
“Have you fired it?” he asked.
Cold Dawn Page 5