• • •
Sean watched Brooke for a moment, then turned to Jasper.
“You say the neighbor found her?”
“That’s right. Lady let her dog out, and he started barking like crazy, so she went outside to see what was going on and spotted the victim in a pool of blood there on the porch. Name’s Samantha Bonner. She works at a coffee shop.”
Sean raked his hand through his damp hair, scattering water on the floor. “Married? Kids?”
Jasper shook his head. “Neighbor says she lives alone.”
Sean unzipped his SMPD Windbreaker and glanced at Brooke again. She was on her knees by the back door, lifting fingerprints. Just beyond her was the victim, and the ME’s people were already unzipping the body bag.
Damn.
Sean was accustomed to seeing Brooke surrounded by blood and gore, but this was bad. He studied the victim, noting the position of the body, the clothing.
Brooke closed her evidence kit and got to her feet as Sean approached.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She looked him up and down. “Where were you guys?”
“Got stuck behind an accident near the bridge. Tow truck’s blocking the road, so we had to hoof it.” Sean ran his hand through his hair again.
“Don’t drip water all over my crime scene.”
He smiled. “Yours?”
“That’s right.”
For a moment they just looked at each other, and Sean tried to read her expression.
“Detective? Can we bag her?”
Brooke shot a blistering look at the ME’s assistant, clearly not liking his glib tone.
Sean stepped into the utility room to take a look at the back porch. The whole area was a bloodbath.
“Jesus,” Ric said, coming up beside him. “You get all this, Maddie?”
“Yes, I’m finished with the porch,” the photographer called from the kitchen.
The ME’s guy looked at Sean again. “Detective?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Sean turned around. Brooke was watching him now, her evidence kit clutched at her side. He motioned for her to follow him into the living room.
Brooke was short and slender, with pale skin and a plump pink mouth he’d always wondered about. As she looked up at him, he noticed the worry line between her brows.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean besides the fact that this woman was practically decapitated on her doorstep?”
“Yes.”
She took a deep breath and glanced around. “This crime scene bugs me.”
“Why?”
“Look at it. See for yourself.”
Without another word, she stepped around him and went back into the kitchen to crouch beside the pantry door.
Sean pulled some latex gloves from his pocket and tugged them on as he surveyed the kitchen. It was clean and uncluttered, except for a stack of mail on the counter beside a key. He studied the key for a moment, but resisted the urge to pick it up.
He opened the fridge. Yogurt, salad kit, pomegranate juice. On the lower shelf was a six-pack of root beer with a bottle missing from the carton. That was the bottle Maddie was snapping a picture of now as it sat on the breakfast table.
Sean glanced through the open back door as the ME’s people started loading the body bag onto a gurney. The victim’s clothes had been intact, and she’d shown no obvious sign of sexual assault. At first glance, it looked like the killer had grabbed her from behind and slit her throat. Given the lack of blood inside the house, Sean figured the attacker had fled down the driveway to the street or maybe hopped the back fence.
Ric stepped into the kitchen again. “Her purse is on the back porch. Wallet’s inside, but no cell phone.”
“You check the car?” Sean asked.
“Not yet. Let’s walk through the house first.”
“Don’t move anything,” Maddie said. “I haven’t been back there yet.”
After another look at Brooke, Sean led the way back. The simple layout had rooms off a central hallway. Sean flipped on a light in the first room. It had a wooden desk and a metal folding chair. On the desk was a notebook computer, closed and powered off. On the far side of the room stood a shelving unit crammed with books.
“Looks like a home office,” Sean said, moving on to the bathroom. He paid close attention to the floor as he went, but saw no blood or footprints or even dust bunnies.
The bathroom smelled like ammonia. Sean switched on the light.
“House is squeaky-clean,” Ric observed.
“Yep.”
The pedestal sink gleamed. Sean opened the medicine cabinet. Toothpaste, cough drops, tampons. Ric eased back the shower curtain to reveal a shiny tub with several bottles of hair products lined up on the side.
They moved on to the bedroom, where they found a neatly made queen bed with a light blue comforter and two pillows in standard pink pillowcases that matched the sheets.
“Not a lot of pillows,” Sean said.
“What’s that?”
“Pillows. Most women put a lot on the bed, don’t they?”
“I don’t know. My wife does.”
Sean studied the room. It smelled like vanilla. On the dresser were several plastic trays of makeup and one of those bottles of liquid air freshener with the sticks poking up. Sean spied a sticky note attached to the mirror and leaned closer to read the feminine handwriting: One day, one breath.
Was it a poem? A song lyric? Maybe Samantha’s own words?
The closet door was ajar, and Sean nudged it open. Six pairs of jeans, all on hangers. A couple dozen T-shirts, also hanging.
Ric whistled. “Damn. You know anyone who arranges their T-shirts by color?”
“Nope.” Sean looked around the bedroom again. “Pretty basic. Not a lot here.”
He walked back through the house, noting a conspicuous absence of anything that would indicate a male presence. No razors on the sink or man-size shoes kicking around. No beer in the fridge. The living room was simply furnished with a sofa, a coffee table, and a smallish TV.
“Looks to me like she lives alone.” Ric turned to Jasper. “You say she works at a restaurant?”
“Coffee shop, according to the neighbor lady.” Jasper took out a spiral pad and consulted his notes. “Java House over on Elm Street.”
“I’ve never been in there.” Ric looked at Sean. “You?”
“Nope.”
Sean glanced around the living room, which was devoid of clutter. Maybe the victim didn’t have a lot of money for extras, but even so, most women tended to decorate their homes more than this. Sean hadn’t spotted a single framed photograph in the entire place.
The strobe of a camera flash drew his attention to the kitchen again. Brooke was right. This scene seemed odd. Sean had worked a lot of homicides over the years, and most boiled down to money, drugs, or sex.
Sean had seen no sign of sexual assault. No drugs or drug paraphernalia or even alcohol. No hint of illegal activity. No evidence of a boyfriend.
A remote control sat on the coffee table. Sean had watched Brooke in action enough to know it would be one of the first items she collected to dust for prints.
“I don’t see any blood trails or signs of struggle inside,” Ric said. “Doesn’t feel like the assailant was in the house.”
“I’m not getting a read on motive.”
“I know.” Ric shook his head. “Doesn’t look like a rape or a robbery. No cash or drugs around.”
“We need her phone. I want to search her car and the surrounding area.”
“I’ll go check the car,” Ric said.
He exited the front, and Sean returned to the kitchen. Brooke wasn’t there. Maddie knelt in the pantry with her camera, and Sean noticed the pantry door was missing.
“What happened to the door?”
She glanced at him. “Brooke took it.”
“Took it where?”
“Back to the lab.”
Sean stared at her. “You mean she’s gone?”
“She needed to test something. She said it was urgent.”
“Yo, Sean, come here,” Ric called from outside.
Sean walked out the front, glancing at his watch. Why had she left already? This scene would take hours to process and they were just getting started.
Ric was in the driveway near the Kia. Another Delphi CSI in gray coveralls crouched beside the car.
Ric glanced up at Sean. “Jackpot.”
CHAPTER 2
Brooke stepped through her front door and peeled off her jacket, scattering rain all over her wood floor. She tossed the jacket on a chair and made a beeline for the sink to wash her hands for the umpteenth time tonight. Fingerprint powder was everywhere—on her clothes, her skin, under her nails. She’d find it in her bra, too, when she undressed later. The superfine particles permeated everything, readily adhering to almost any surface.
Brooke shut off the water and stared for a moment at her reflection in the window above the sink. She looked drained. Exhausted. She was exhausted, and she should have been hungry, too, but right now the thought of food sent a shudder through her.
A soft scratching at the back door made her turn around. Midnight was hungry, even if Brooke wasn’t. She grabbed a scoop of cat food and crossed her darkened living room to open the slider, first pulling out the metal rod she kept there to deter burglars.
Midnight wasn’t even her cat, really. He belonged to her neighbor on the other side of the duplex. Leila had adopted him last Halloween after he’d shown up with singed fur and a broken tail. She kept him outside because their landlord didn’t allow pets, and she’d asked Brooke to feed him for a few days while she was out of town.
Midnight was wet and pitiful looking. Brooke crouched down to stroke his ears, but he ignored her attention as he went after his chow.
A sharp knock on the front door made Brooke jump. Who would show up this late? The most obvious answer put a knot in her stomach as she crossed the house.
It wasn’t her ex on the doorstep, but Sean, she saw through the peephole. She felt a wave of relief, quickly followed by nerves. What was he doing here so late? His hair was damp and the shoulders of his leather jacket were dark with rain.
She opened the door. “You’re done already?”
He smiled. “Already? It’s nearly one.”
She stared up at him, trying to think of what to say.
“I got your text,” he said. “You just get off work?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
She watched him a moment, debating with herself before pulling the door back. “Come in.”
He stepped inside. She suddenly realized she had a sexy, rain-drenched man standing in her living room, and she didn’t have a clue what to do with him. Sean had been by here once before to pick up a report, but he’d never come inside. Now that he was here, he seemed to fill up the space with his strong presence.
Brooke glanced around. As opposed to her office, which was immaculate, her house was a mess. Shoes littered the floor. Soda cans perched on the tables. A basket of laundry sat in the hallway, where she’d parked it to remind herself that she was almost out of underwear.
“You lit out of there quick.”
She looked up at him. “I had to get back to the lab to run something.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And what was so urgent? Your text was vague.”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you when I do.”
His eyebrows arched. “Seriously? You can’t give me a hint?”
“Sorry.”
He gazed down at her, and she felt a warm flutter. His eyes got to her. They were hazel, and he had the kind of thick dark lashes that were wasted on a man.
She thought he’d twist her arm about the lab work, but instead he looked away.
“So. You eaten yet?” he asked.
“Um, no.”
“Want to get something?” He was inviting her out to dinner. At nearly one in the morning. “IHOP’s open.”
It was, but she was still processing the fact that he was asking her out.
Brooke was taking a break from men. And from badge-wearing alpha men in particular. But she didn’t want to tell him that because he’d probably take it as a challenge.
He smiled. “Whoa, why’d you get all tense? It’s just pancakes.”
“Thanks. But I should get to bed. And anyway, I’m not too hungry after everything tonight.”
His expression turned somber. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Sean ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was covered in stubble. He’d had a long day, as she had, and she felt tempted to invite him to hang out for a while and have a beer. But she didn’t know him well enough to predict how he’d interpret that. Probably like most guys would, like she was offering him sex.
Another moment ticked by, and he reached for the door. “I’ll let you get to bed.” A cold gust of air whipped through her T-shirt as he stepped outside. “I’m sure you’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
“I do.”
“By the way, we found drugs in her vehicle.”
She blinked up at him. “You did?”
“About two grams of coke.”
“That’s strange.”
“Why?”
She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill. “I don’t know, it seemed like she was in recovery.”
“What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “No alcohol in the kitchen. And the Serenity Prayer needlepoint. They say it at AA meetings.”
“Where was that?”
“On the wall near the breakfast table.”
“Huh. I didn’t see the prayer, but I definitely noticed the lack of substances. It’s unusual.”
She scoffed. “Definitely an unusual case.”
His gaze narrowed. He eased closer, and Brooke’s pulse picked up. She could feel his body heat and smell the rain on him.
“You know something, don’t you?”
“Maybe. I’ll call you if I get it nailed down.”
He watched her for a long moment. Then he reached over and touched her chin, and she felt a rush of warmth. “You’ve got something here.”
“Swedish black.”
His eyebrows tipped up.
“Fingerprint powder.” She cleared her throat. “It gets everywhere.”
He smiled and stepped back. “Go to bed, Brooke. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
• • •
Sean strode through the door of the station house and checked his phone.
“Any word yet?”
He looked at Ric as they walked down the corridor of offices. “No,” Sean said.
He’d expected to hear from Brooke before the autopsy wrapped up, but he’d had nothing from her and it was almost noon. He was going to have to track her down.
“Hey, you okay?” Ric asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You look stressed. How’s the leg?”
“Fine,” Sean said, even though it wasn’t. It felt like someone had jammed an ice pick into his knee, which was more or less true.
Sean had been shot during a takedown four months ago. He’d broken his leg in the same incident when his truck skidded off the road. The leg turned out to be a bigger deal than the bullet wound, and he’d had to have a pin inserted in the bone and go through weeks of rehab. Although he’d passed his physical and been cleared for work, he still wasn’t 100 percent. He wasn’t about to tell anyone, but Ric had figured it out.
Sean checked his phone again as they entered the bull pen. He wanted to hear from Brooke. She was good at her job. Freakishly good. She saw things most other people missed, and Sean wanted to know what had snagged her attention last night and sent her racing back to the crime lab.
“Conference room in five,” Ric said.
“I need to grab some coffe
e first.”
Sean headed for the break room and stopped cold at the sight of Brooke. She was with Jasper, who looked like a giant standing next to her, and she was laughing at something he’d said. Damn, was he seriously flirting with her right there in the bull pen?
Sean walked over. “Hey, what’s up?”
Brooke looked relieved to see him. “Oh, good, you’re back. They said you were in Austin.”
Sean shot Jasper a look. “We’re meeting in the conference room.” The rookie took the hint and excused himself, and Sean turned to Brooke. “The autopsy wrapped about an hour ago.”
“Was it bad?”
“Long. I could use some coffee. Here, come on.” He ushered her into the break room, where the pot was almost empty, of course. “You want some?”
“No.”
He grabbed a styrofoam cup and poured the last dregs. It looked like sludge, but he didn’t care—he just wanted a few moments alone with her. She was the first good thing to happen to him all morning. And not just because she looked good and smelled good, which she definitely did. She was in jeans and a thin black sweater, along with some black lace-up boots that were totally hot. She was standing close enough for him to get some of that scent she wore, something soft and feminine that always drove him crazy.
But the really, truly good thing about seeing her was that she was a busy woman. Much too busy to waste her time coming to the station unless she had something important to share.
“I got those results back.”
He noticed the spark in her eyes. It was something important. “And?”
“I’d like to go over my findings, if you have a minute.”
He sipped his coffee, watching her, and something told him her findings weren’t simple. He eyed the file folder sticking up from her oversize purse.
“Come on back.” He pitched his cup into the trash. “You can sit in on our meeting, tell all of us.”
Sean led her into the conference room, where the rest of the case team was already assembled around a table. In addition to Sean and Ric, they had a third detective assigned to the case, Callie McLean, plus Jasper to help with the legwork. Lieutenant Reynolds sat at the head of the table. Sean doubted he was there to work—probably just wanted an update. The chief of police hated press conferences and probably planned to have Reynolds take the podium for the briefing later.
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