Cold Dawn

by Susan Sleeman

  The place reminded him a bit of Flint Accounting, in that the lobby seemed to cater to an affluent crowd. He wondered what Emory would be like. Would she be standoffish like Flint? Griff doubted Sam would be friends with someone like that and maybe he was just reading things that weren’t there. After all, the exterior of the building where they worked or even what they looked like was no indicator of their character.

  They passed a young security guard who stood at attention, his gaze sharp and intense. Griff had to wonder why they needed a guard. Sure, they handled secret information on their clients, but many offices kept confidential information on clients, and they didn’t hire guards.

  Sam stepped up to the reception desk where a blond in her early twenties sat waiting. She smiled up at her. “Can I help you?”

  Sam rested her arms on the counter. “Samantha Willis here to see Emory Steele.”

  The receptionist whose name tag read Lily swung her gaze to Sam. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but we’re friends, and she’ll see me.” Sam’s demanding tone brought Lily’s back up.

  She tightened her gaze. “Emory is very busy and sees people by appointment only. She wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

  Griff leaned over the counter and smiled, hoping charm might do the trick. “Would you check? I know it’s an imposition, but I really do think Emory wouldn’t mind being interrupted by a close friend who’s in town for just a few hours.”

  She bit her lip then gave a swift nod and picked up her phone. “Ms. Steele. There’s a Samantha Willis here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but—” Lily sat back as if Emory had cut her off. “Sure. Fine. I’ll send her right up.”

  Lily returned her handset to the cradle and lifted an iPad to the counter. “Sign in here, and I’ll need to see your driver’s licenses. Ms. Steele will meet you at the door at the top of the stairs.”

  “Thank you.” Sam used the stylus to scribble her name, then after showing her ID, she started across the polished concrete floors for the stairs. Her high heels sent tiny taps echoing through the spacious foyer.

  Griff signed in. “I know that was a risk to call for us, but thank you for doing so.”

  Lily nodded, a hint of a smile finding its way to her face.

  Griff took off after Sam who was halfway up the open staircase. He took the steps two at a time until he caught up. She was eager to talk to Emory, but he wondered if she realized she’d been kind of rude to Lily.

  “Maybe we should’ve called Emory before showing up,” he said.

  “I wanted to surprise her.” She looked back at Lily and frowned. “I was probably a little pushy, huh?”

  “Just a little.” He grinned.

  She shook her head. “I used to know the receptionist. It wouldn’t have been a problem if she was still here, but yeah, I should’ve called.”

  The door opened, and a woman in lab coat and black slacks stood waiting. She had reddish-blond hair that fell to her collar and black glasses that made her look every part the scientist instead of just a pretty young woman.

  “Sam!” She shrieked and held out her arms. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Me, too.” Sam rushed in for a hug. “I missed you.

  Griff watched the pair, wondering how different things would be right now if Sam had been this happy to see him. Of course, if she’d been that happy to see him, they would never have broken up in the first place.

  Emory pulled back. “Hey, I wasn’t the one who moved to the coast and hasn’t come back for a visit.”

  “I know. I know.” Sam held up her hands. “But I’ve been swamped with the new job.”

  “And is this guy one of the men you work with?” Emory pushed up her glasses and studied Griff like he was an interesting mold growing in a Petri dish.

  “Um, no…no…this is Matt Griffin.”

  “Griff? The Griff?” Emory gawked at Sam for a long moment. She suddenly changed her focus and ran her gaze over Griff, lingering on his face.

  Clearly Sam had confided in Emory about their past relationship and breakup. Griff waited for Emory to give him the stink eye, but she turned her attention back to Sam.

  “Yeah, that Griff,” Sam said with great reluctance. “One of our friends was murdered, and we’re working together to find his killer.”

  “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.” Emory clutched Sam’s hand. “Do I know this friend?”

  Sam shook her head. “His name is Andy Hollis. We grew up together in Rugged Point. He and Griff were friends, too.”

  Emory looked up at Griff. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Griff nodded.

  Emory released Sam’s hand. “Is that why you’re here? Do you need help?”

  Sam nodded and held out the bag and package. “I need this run for DNA, and the package contains samples I collected before I knew we were coming here today.” Sam shared about the fire and the lock bar.

  “I’ll get to this as soon as I can.”

  “I have an even bigger request. I need your help back in Rugged Point.” Sam explained the potential DNA that might be recovered from Andy’s face. “I was hoping you could come back on the helo with us right now.”

  Emory tilted her head in question. “And what if you don’t get the sheriff’s buy-in?”

  Sam waved a hand. “You wouldn’t be asking that question if you ever met Gage. He’ll get Blake to agree. You can be sure of that.”

  “Okay, how soon do we need to leave?”

  “As soon as you can go.”

  “I have some processes running that I’ll need to turn over to my analyst. I’ll also get her started on your evidence. Then I’ll need to reschedule a few things.” Her eyes filled with distress. “I…uh, will it be…when will you bring me home?”

  “Tonight I hope.”

  “I don’t…I want…” Emory pinched the flesh between her thumb and hand so tightly it turned white under the pressure.

  Sam’s eyes widened in a sudden dawning, but Griff hadn’t a clue about what.

  “Sorry.” Sam clutched Emory’s hand. “I should have thought. I was too focused on Andy. If I can’t personally accompany you, I’ll have one of my teammates with you every minute, and they’ll escort you to your doorstep. Okay?”

  Emory let out a long breath and nodded, but she nipped on her lower lip, and her expression remained pinched. She was afraid of something, but Griff had no idea what.

  “Thank you.” Sam gave her friend a quick hug. “I’ll need to call Gage to make arrangements.”

  Emory glanced at her watch. “Let me first confirm my analyst can take over, and then you can make that call.”

  “Sure. That works.”

  “Then follow me.” She pivoted on her Chuck Taylors that squeaked on the polished floor and stepped inside. She stood watching the door until it latched behind Sam and Griff. “We take the security of the information we process here very seriously.”

  “I noticed the guard,” Griff mentioned.

  Emory frowned. “That’s more for the staff than information. People can get very emotional when it comes to their DNA and who it matches or doesn’t match. Each of us has had clients go off on us, not to mention the relatives who disagree with the match.”

  They headed down a long hallway, passing a large lab marked with a sign that read Toxicology and Controlled Substance Unit. “Our managing partner, Maya Glass, runs this lab.”

  On the other side of the hall near the end, Emory pressed her finger on a print reader. She poked her head into the room labeled DNA. “Lara, can you stay late tonight and take over my processes? My friend Sam has an emergency that she needs me for.”

  “Sure,” came the reply.

  “Great, thanks. I’ll be right back to review them with you and give you additional evidence to process.” Emory closed the door. Griff thought she would look relieved, but her pinched expression had returned.

  Sam clutched Emory’s arm. “Thank you for your help, Emory. I know th
is is going to take you out of your comfort zone, but this investigation is going nowhere fast. Your expertise might be just what we need to break it wide open.”

  “You know I’m glad to help, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let’s go to my office. You can make that call, and I can rearrange my schedule.” She firmed her shoulders and started down the hall.

  Griff hung back and held Sam’s arm to keep her with him.

  “What’s going on with Emory?” he asked.

  “Going on?” Sam asked.

  “She seems pretty skittish about something.”

  Sam fingered the silver cross necklace she often wore as if she thought Emory’s issue needed divine intervention.

  “Sorry.” She met his gaze firmly. “I know you want to understand and would never share, but it’s…it’s highly personal, and Emory’s story to tell if she wants you to know.”

  13

  The garage door chugged up with a creaking groan, and Sam thought they were finally on the right road to find Andy’s killer. At least that’s what she hoped. Blake readily agreed to allow Emory to process the DNA, and Riley accompanied her to the morgue. With his former experience as a police officer he was the perfect teammate for the assignment. Plus, he didn’t have any classes scheduled for a few days, making him available for the detail.

  That freed up Sam to work other leads, starting with Andy’s car. She turned her attention to the small vehicle sitting square in the middle of his parents’ meticulously clean garage. They’d covered it with a new olive-colored tarp that was deeply creased from the package.

  “Do you really think there might be something inside his car that can help?” Mr. Hollis asked with half the confidence he had yesterday.

  Sam figured his bravado had all been show for the woman he loved and to keep her spirits up. “You didn’t look inside?”

  Mr. Hollis shook his head. “I couldn’t bear to do it. Or even look at the car. So I went out and bought the tarp to cover it.”

  “And his keys?” Sam asked. Gage had asked the ME about them, but still didn’t have an answer. “Might you have his keys or do you have a spare?”

  “A spare. I assume the medical examiner has his keys.”

  “I’ll follow up with him, then,” Sam said. “I appreciate you letting us take a look.”

  “Sure thing.” He gritted his teeth. “Mind if I leave you to it and head inside? I don’t think I can handle this right now.”

  She pressed her hand on his arm in sympathy. “Please, go ahead.”

  Tears glistened in his eyes. “Ask if you need anything.”

  Sam watched him enter the house, and her heart broke over the dejected slump of his shoulders. “Just when I think I’ve felt as much grief as possible, there’s more.”

  Griff came up beside her and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be some time before you feel normal again. I can tell you that from losing my parents.”

  She’d never experienced such a loss, and here she was feeling sorry for herself when Griff’s parents were no longer with him, and he’d lived with the deep residual effects of loss. “They were such wonderful people.”

  “So are your parents.”

  Not at all what she expected him to say.

  “I know you and your mom aren’t close right now, but what about your dad? You talk to him?”

  She shook her head. He arched an eyebrow in question, but she wouldn’t tell him about her dad. About him cheating on her mom. About his breaking her belief in everything a father should be. About her mother kicking him out. That was a topic she couldn’t talk about with anyone. At least not since she’d argued about it with her mother.

  He turned her to face him. “I would give anything to have my parents back. Anything. Think about that, honey. Let go of whatever’s keeping you separated from them. Don’t waste more time. If Andy’s death teaches us anything, it’s that we never know when it will be our time. Or our parents’ time.”

  He spoke the truth. Such important truth. She missed her parents. She’d had such a wonderful childhood. Both parents were strong Christians, raising her in faith, and the family was so close-knit. Then her dad cheated, rocking her world and leaving her off-kilter.

  Had she put her parents on a pedestal and not allowed them to be human? Did she need to forgive and move on?

  Not a decision she could make standing here in the Hollis’ garage, but right after they found Andy’s killer and put him behind bars, she’d give her relationship with her parents some serious thought.

  She lifted the tarp from the front of the vehicle, and Griff moved to the back to help. Bunching it up, she set it on the workbench, and stood back to get an overarching view of the small silver sedan. A hybrid, which made perfect sense for Andy. The CPA in him would be all about saving money on gas. She moved closer to the back tire.

  “There’s dirt on the wheels and undercarriage.” She squatted and shone a flashlight into the tire treads. “Same color and consistency as the soil on his shoes. Odds are good he drove this car to wherever he went.”

  She took a pair of latex gloves from her pocket, grabbed a plastic numbered marker and her camera to photograph the evidence before she bagged it to compare at her lab. She repeated the process for all four tires. After she put the bag in her tote, she tossed a pair of gloves to Griff. “I’ll take the driver’s side to search. You have the passenger’s side.”

  She opened the door and leaned in, shining her flashlight over the seats and floor. Clumps of clay soil lay on the light gray carpet. She sat on the driver’s seat and her light caught the same soil on the passenger floor. She set a marker on the floor then snapped pictures and collected some of the soil from each side of the vehicle.

  Griff opened his door and bent inside.

  She pointed at the floor. “Looks like he had someone with him when he made this mysterious trip.”

  Griff shone his flashlight on the carpet. “There are some small prints here. A woman.”

  She leaned in to examine them. “I concur.” She looked up. “But who, do you think?”

  Griff shrugged. “Not a girlfriend if Oscar is to be believed.”

  “And do you believe him? I mean he didn’t seem to know much about Andy except for their time at work.”

  “I didn’t particularly trust the guy, but why would he lie?”

  “Yeah, he had no reason to, as far as we know.”

  “So who might this woman be?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll process the area for prints, but first let me get pictures of the footprints and bag this soil.” She grabbed her markers and camera and got to work.

  As she snapped pictures, she pondered all the inconsistencies of Andy’s life they’d uncovered so far. The more they discovered, the more confusing it was. But as she carefully documented the evidence, she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  She stepped back. “Go ahead and check the glove compartment and under the seat. Maybe we’ll find something else to help.”

  She opened the console and discovered candy and gum wrappers along with a parking ticket from six months ago in Portland. It was wadded up in a ball. Discarded tissues and paper napkins were also stuffed inside. “He used this as a trash bag.”

  “I’m only finding registration and the owner’s manual in the glove compartment.” Griff said.

  She backed out and knelt on the concrete floor to feel under the seat. Her hand landed on a hardcover book. She pulled out a murder mystery, flipped through it, and saw he’d checked it out from the Rugged Point library. He’d always been a big reader. She could still see him sitting in the window seat in his bedroom—mystery book in hand—while she did her homework. He loved mysteries. Loved to solve them. And now, he was murdered in a mystery of his own.

  Tears pricked her eyes again.

  Oh, Andy, I’m so, so sorry this happened to you.

  She swallowed hard and set the book on the seat while making a mental note to return it t
o the library when the investigation was over.

  One more swipe under the seat, then she leaned in to check in the gap between the seat and the console where many wonderful leads were often found.

  “Bingo!” Griff grabbed her attention. He held up a cell phone. “Andy’s missing phone.”

  Sam nearly leapt over the seat to take it from Griff’s hands.

  “Quick, turn it on,” Griff said. “Let’s see who Andy last called or texted.”

  “We have to go back to the compound first.” She shoved the phone into an evidence bag and sealed it tight.

  Griff gaped at her. “Why?”

  “It needs to be imaged before we can look at it, and Eryn is skilled at forensic imaging.”

  “Imaged?” Griff looked confused.

  “When the case goes to court, we’ll need to prove we didn’t alter the information the phone contains. So a copy—image—has to be made of the contents before anyone accesses it and changes the state of the device. Once Eryn takes the image, we can look at that instead of the actual phone.”

  Griff’s eyes narrowed. “How long will that take?”

  “Depends on the size of the phone’s memory and the phone’s file structure.” She backed out of the car and placed the evidence bag in her tote. “Andy doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would’ve splurged on extra memory or that he would take a lot of pictures, which means it should be fast. But I do have to process for prints and DNA before turning it over to Eryn.”

  Griff shut the passenger door. “Then let’s go say goodbye to his parents and get out of here.”

  “Not quite so fast.” Sam came around his side of the car. “I have prints to develop and then the back seat and trunk to examine.”

  “Right.” He shook his head. “I’m not used to thinking about all these little details.”