Dead End

by Susan Sleeman

  “We do.”

  “Mine’s on file at Veritas for elimination purposes.” She didn’t have to explain to an agent that forensic labs kept workers’ DNA profiles and fingerprints on file for comparison purposes, allowing them to be sure they hadn’t contaminated the evidence they processed. “If you get his DNA profile to me, I can have our DNA expert compare them.”

  He snorted. “Right. Like your people would do an impartial analysis.”

  “I assure you we are all impartial, and our DNA expert will give you a legit analysis.”

  “I’ll still want Quantico to do the analysis.”

  Of course. FBI agents were territorial about their forensics. And they were also biased toward their main lab in Quantico where nearly all of their evidence was processed. Not that Sierra thought their lab was subpar. She was impressed with their state-of-the-art facility, but the partners at Veritas could do everything they could and more. This guy wouldn’t care though, so no point in arguing.

  “If you give me your email address, I’ll have Emory send the profile to you,” she offered.

  He nodded. “I’ll also need your parents’ contact information.”

  She pictured her dad and the way she left him. How she left her mom. Both in pain that she wished she could somehow take away. “I’d hate to have my dad disturbed when he’s so sick.”

  “I’ll be brief.”

  Another thing that arguing wouldn’t change. She grabbed a notepad and pen from the desk and wrote down their names, address, and phone number. She jotted down the hospital name, too, and held it out to him, making him step away from his comfy wall position to come get it.

  He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her behavior and confidently strode toward her, his walk more of a swagger than anything.

  He took the paper, touching her fingers, and she felt a warm rush of attraction. Seriously. The guy cuffs her, irritates her, and what? She’s attracted to him. Unbelievable.

  He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice they even touched. He simply stared at the paper. “I’ll need your contact information as well.”

  She reached into the front pocket of her backpack and gave him her business card.

  “Home address, too.”

  “The same. Our labs are in one tower. Condos in the other.”

  When most people learned that she lived on the same property as her work they said something about taking work home with her, but he didn’t comment, just pocketed her card and the paper.

  “Are we done here?” she asked.

  “You’re free to go.” He stepped back.

  His dismissive behavior got to her, and she finally snapped. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I’m not going anywhere except to my car to get my kit.”

  “Your what?”

  “Forensic kit. I intend to find Eddie, and I’m going to process this place and his cottage.” She crossed her arms. “After all, I have no proof he took off with the money. For all I know, he was abducted.”

  Reed scoffed. “Trust me. Eddie took off on his own, and the county forensic techs already processed both places.”

  County. He used them? Good news really. They might not have been as thorough as an FBI Evidence Recovery Team, and she had a better chance of finding something.

  She touched the black powder on the desk. “Obviously the place has been processed.”

  “And, the locals will have already found everything of value,” he added.

  “Everything? I doubt it. Regardless, I know you’re not planning to share your evidence with me, and I’ll need to collect my own.”

  He arched an eyebrow, the first real sign that she’d gotten to him. “I can’t have you interfering in my investigation, Sierra.”

  His no-nonsense tone might scare off some people, but not her. “I didn’t see a seal on this door or one at his cottage. Means you’re done with these locations, and as his daughter, I can do whatever I want on his properties.”

  “Technically this isn’t his property.”

  She had to give him credit for his tenacity, but it also frustrated her. “I’m sure I can get Mayor Parks to give me a key.”

  He ran his gaze over her, starting at her face then running slowly down her body and back to her face where his gaze held tight, a hint of sarcasm in his expression. “Yeah, I don’t doubt you can charm him.”

  She wouldn’t let his comment bait her. She knew when to leave something alone. This was one of those times. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go grab my kit.”

  He planted his feet as if making himself appear intimidating might stop her from leaving. He was a big obstacle to get around, but she could force her way past him if needed.

  She took a step.

  “You carry that kit with you all the time?” he asked.

  “I get called out at all hours of the day, and I’m not always at the lab with access to our crime scene van.” She thought about leaving it at that, but then decided if she shared her intent to fully pursue finding Eddie, the agent would leave her alone. “You should know after a quick phone call to my lab assistant, Chad will be on the road heading here.”

  His eyes narrowed and were now more black than brown.

  “In fact, I’ll call in the entire team,” she added without really thinking it through. “A quick phone call and they’ll be in the air soon.”

  He ran a hand over his tie to straighten it, but it didn’t need straightening. Maybe a sign that she was getting to him more than she first thought.

  “Air?” he asked. “You own a helicopter?”

  “We have contacts who make their aircraft available to us at a moment’s notice.” At least she hoped their contacts had a helicopter available. First, she would call Gage Blackwell who owned Blackwell Tactical. He’d always helped them in the past. She only hoped he would do it again. If not, she’d find someone else.

  Reed lifted his mouth in a wry smile of acceptance. “Okay. So you’re going to do what you’re going to do, and without taking you to court I can’t stop you. But I can watch your every move.”

  She imagined this suit standing over her as she processed both places, and she could honestly say as much as she was still irritated with him, he had this male magnetism that she found attractive, and his presence would distract her. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Necessary, no.” His voice was hard. Resolute. “But when you get to know me, you’ll learn I go beyond necessary to get the job done. And I will get the job done here, Sierra. I will find Eddie Barnes, and when I do, he will be headed to prison for embezzlement.”

  3

  Reed watched Sierra make her calls. She turned her back to him as if that meant he couldn’t hear her, but Barnes’s office was way too small to hold a private conversation. She said she was calling someone named Gage Blackwell to request the use of his helo, and after getting a positive response from the guy, she moved on to call someone named Maya. He pulled up the Veritas Center’s webpage on his phone and saw Maya was a partner.

  “Here’s a shocker,” Sierra said into her phone as she pivoted and started pacing. “You know how I got tested to donate a kidney for Dad? Well I’m not a match because he’s not my dad.”

  Reed heard Maya’s exclamation of surprise all the way across the room.

  “I know, right? Shocking.” Sierra paused to listen, nibbling on a full bottom lip as she did. “I’m doing better, but it’ll take some time before anything feels right again.” She massaged her neck.

  She was truly suffering, and Reed didn’t like seeing her in such a state. Not one bit. A woman experiencing any type of suffering was his Achilles’ heel. It made him focus on helping the woman at all costs and try to do something to stop their suffering. Problem was, in his line of work, he rarely could. But then he could be all wrong here. This phone call could be an act for his benefit. A way to mislead him and get her way. Sierra was clearly strong-willed enough for that. But would she lie to her partner? Something told him she wouldn’t.


  “Yeah,” she said. “Gage is sending Riley to pick everyone up.”

  There was that Gage name again. Reed left the Veritas website to look up Gage Blackwell. A link to Blackwell Tactical’s website came up, and he tapped on it. Located in Cold Harbor, the company was a private investigation and protection company owned by Gage Blackwell. They also trained law enforcement. All team members were former military or law enforcement who couldn’t continue their service due to on-the-job injuries. Blackwell, a former SEAL, hired them to work at his company doing similar work.

  Reed had to respect the man and his dedication to these men and woman. Reed scrolled down their class listing. He was impressed at the depth of their offerings, and he would have appreciated this type of training when he’d signed on as a Washington County Deputy right out of college. Reed suspected he would like Blackwell if he ever met him.

  Sierra turned to look at Reed. He wanted to keep reviewing the website, but her stance grabbed his attention. She was a confident woman. Confident in herself. Confident in her work. And Reed liked that. Took a confident person to stand up to an FBI agent, much less come back from being shackled by one. Couple her feistiness with her beauty, and his thoughts traveled as far from Eddie Barnes as they could possibly go.

  “And will you please have Emory bring my DNA profile?” she said into her phone. “Agent Reed is refusing to give us access to Eddie’s profile.”

  She ran a hand through golden-blond hair with streaks of lighter blond. He had no idea if they were natural or from a salon, but her hair looked thick and silky soft.

  “Right, I know,” she continued speaking into her phone. “Eddie’s DNA has to be all over this place and his house, but it’ll still take twenty-four or more hours to process before we have a profile for comparison. If I can confirm Eddie’s my biological father sooner, I’m all for that.” A pause and another nibble on her lower lip. “Okay, see you soon.”

  She shoved her phone into her pocket. He noted a sheen of moisture in her eyes, but she batted those amazing lashes and cleared the tears away as she firmed her shoulders. “Prepare to be descended upon. My team’s on the way, as is my assistant, Chad, with our forensic van.”

  He held her gaze. “Not sure why you need your entire team to process forensics.”

  Her shoulders went up into a rigid line, but he didn’t know why. He wasn’t baiting her. Just speaking his mind.

  “We’re not stopping with forensics,” she said, a determined expression tightening her face. “Four weeks have already passed since Eddie was last seen, and we both know that if he didn’t disappear on his own, each minute counts. So I can’t afford to waste a moment and will need additional help as we launch a full-fledged investigation of our own.”

  “He took off on his own, all right,” Reed said. “We have zero evidence to prove he met with foul play.”

  “I couldn’t possibly know that since you won’t share your information. If I want to get up to speed on finding Eddie, what’s my alternative other than beginning my own investigation?”

  Usually he didn’t care what others thought when he withheld information, but she was getting under his skin, and he didn’t like how she was making him seem like the bad guy here. “It’s not that I won’t share. I can’t. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  “Whatever.” She gathered up her thick hair into a ponytail and secured it with a holder from her backpack. “Just one question. If finding Eddie is so important to you, why didn’t you call in one of your crack Evidence Recovery Teams to process this scene?”

  “The locals got here first,” he said which was the truth, but it felt like a lie to save his pride, so he added, “And even if they hadn’t, the teams are all working much bigger investigations.” That last bit still stuck in Reed’s craw.

  He expected a smirk from her, but he was glad to see a single nod. “Exactly the type of situation Veritas is often called in to handle. I’m going to get that kit from my car now.”

  She didn’t seize an opportunity to make him feel like a loser, and his respect for her climbed the ladder. She stepped out the door and went to the Honda. He followed her to offer his help in carrying her things. He figured it might help change their antagonistic start and maybe get them off on a better footing. She stood by her trunk filled with plastic totes neatly labeled. A large portable case looking like a giant fishing tackle box sat closest to her, and she pulled it out.

  “Can I carry anything?” he asked.

  She lifted her gaze to his face. “What’s with the helpful act?”

  “It’s not an act. I’m a genuinely helpful guy.”

  She didn’t seem to buy his response, but pointed at a blue tote labeled Basics. “I need that one.”

  He lifted it out, and she slammed her trunk. She marched back inside, and he had to admit it was no hardship to watch the sway of her curvy hips.

  She set her case by the door, and he put the tote on the floor next to it. She opened the tub to pull out white coveralls. After ripping open the package, she shimmied her shapely body into the suit then put on blue booties over her bright white sneakers and got out gloves.

  If she were working for him, he would appreciate her thoroughness, but now it meant he’d be here longer when he wanted to be interviewing the locals instead. “Not sure why you need booties when this place has already been contaminated by us.”

  “No point in making it worse.” She handed him a pair of booties and gloves. “If you’d be so kind not to add to the situation.”

  He really didn’t see the point, but then he didn’t see the point of her search. Still, no sense in antagonizing her any further. He slipped on the booties, and before he put on the gloves, he took off his suit coat, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt’s top button. When he looked up, he found her standing like a statue staring at him.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She blinked, but not before he caught the look in her eyes that said she was attracted to him. She could blink all she wanted, but it wouldn’t hide that interest.

  She swallowed, drawing his attention to her slender neck above the unshapely coveralls. “Looks like you’re getting comfy.”

  “This will take some time, right?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Then I’ll be here for a while and might as well be comfortable.” That earned him a frown. “Do you honestly think you’ll find something?”

  “Yes,” she said with unwavering confidence.

  He liked her continued confidence, but he had to wonder if it was misplaced here. “So you think your skills are better than the entire forensic team who did the original work?”

  “Without question.” She held up a hand before he could respond. “I’m not being conceited. I just have more experience and a different approach to evidence collection than most forensic scientists.”

  “How’s that?” he asked, honestly interested now.

  “Most forensic scientists are just scientists. They don’t go beyond the science to learn about the victim or suspect. I find getting into his or her head provides additional direction for my search, and I often come away with leads that are missed by others.”

  Interesting. “What’s your background?”

  “I have a BA in forensic science and master’s in criminology. Plus, I worked three years for the LAPD in their forensic science division and five years at Veritas.”

  Okay. He was officially impressed now. “The crazies come out in Los Angeles. You must’ve seen some interesting crime scenes there.”

  She nodded and turned to her tote where she removed a camera. “But to be clear, processing a scene after someone else had done so will limit the evidence I can collect. Most of the trace evidence will have already been collected. Same is true of fingerprints. Once a tech lifts them they’re removed unless they’re fumed on scene.”

  “Fumed?”

  “It’s done to expose older prints. You put the nonporous item inside an airtight chamber, in
this case a portable one, then add cyanoacrylate—basically Super Glue—and water. The fumes fix the print on the item and make it visible. These prints can be lifted many times.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Mind stepping behind me so I can take scene photos.”

  “Again, what’s the point? It’s not in the condition we found it in. We’ve moved and rifled through everything in here.”

  “It will serve as reference later on if I have a question.”

  He moved behind her, and she started firing off pictures in rapid succession. She headed into the back room turning on lights as she moved, and he followed. She snapped shot after shot of the large space with boxes and other items stacked on one side and a small kitchen with table and chairs on the other. She went to the bathroom and did the same thing.

  She backed her way out, heading for the front door, taking additional shots.

  Confused, he asked, “Didn’t you just take pictures of this area?”

  She nodded. “Capture the scene on the way in and on the way out. You don’t miss a thing that way.”

  He’d never seen a forensic photographer shoot pictures on the way out of a scene, and he was beginning to think she might indeed find something today.

  Back in the front room, she snapped pictures again, then hung the camera around her neck and took out a tripod that she set up by the exit. She mounted a light on it and plugged it in. The room was suddenly flooded with bright light.

  “Seems odd that you didn’t use that light for the pictures.”

  “It’s better to take the scene photos in the existing light.” She grabbed a sketchpad and started drawing the room, noting each item within view.

  She pointed her pen at the large picture window. “Were the blinds up when you arrived on scene?”

  He nodded. “But I’d have to check the reports to see if the locals found them that way.”

  She made a note on her pad. “Are you bored yet? Because if you are, you could take off.”