Exposed (12 page)

Here it came. “No, I don’t recall.”

“Do you recall conducting a tour of the ballistics lab with staffers from the Wayne County Sheriff’s Department, as well as an assistant from the DA’s office?”

Scott’s gaze narrowed. “I remember that, yes.”

“Do you recall meeting my assistant here, Mr. Koenig? Mr. Koenig, could you stand up, please?”

“Your Honor, I object. What is the relevance of this to the matter at hand?”

“Your Honor, if you will indulge me a moment, I’m confident the relevance will become clear.”

“You may proceed.”

The guy stood up, and Scott recognized him as the rookie attorney who had come through the lab that day with a law-enforcement tour. Evidently, he’d already gone over to the dark side.

“I recognize him, yes.”

“And do you recall giving a demonstration that morning, Mr. Black, in which you fired three separate weapons into the tank you mentioned previously?”

“I do.”

She consulted her notes. “You handled a Glock nineteen, a Beretta nine-millimeter, and a Smith and Wesson thirty-eight that morning, is that correct?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Scott braced himself as the curveball flew right at his head.

“And do you recall whether or not you were wearing gloves?”

“No.”

“No, you weren’t wearing any gloves, or no, you don’t recall?”

“No, I wasn’t wearing any.”

“No gloves?” She turned to the jury. “But didn’t you just tell us that you
always
wear gloves in the lab? That it’s an important procedure you follow to prevent contamination?”

Scott glanced at the jury. He looked at Rae. She was still making eye contact with the jurors, driving the point home.

She turned to look at him, and he caught the glint of triumph in her eyes. “Mr. Black? Would you care to change your testimony?”

“No.”

She addressed the judge. “In that case, Your Honor, I have no further questions for this witness.”

The judge looked at the prosecutor, who was staring glumly in Scott’s direction. “Would you care to redirect?”

“No, Your Honor.”

The prosecutor knew when to cut his losses. Scott gritted his teeth as Rae collected her papers, and the judge dismissed everyone for the midday break.

Scott left the courtroom and entered the throng of courthouse staffers rushing out to lunch.

“Hey, wait up.”

He headed for the drinking fountain.

“Scott.”

He turned around. Rae fought the flow of people like a salmon swimming upstream. She stopped in front of him and straightened the hem of her jacket.

“You need something?”

“I just wanted to say thank you. For your time today.” She squared her shoulders. “And I hope you understand that wasn’t personal in there.”

“Hey, no worries, Rae. Whatever you need to do to get your man off.”

Her cheeks flushed, and he could tell she didn’t appreciate the innuendo, especially coming from him.

“My client is entitled to—”

“Your client’s a dirtbag, and this is the second time I’ve been called to testify against him in three years.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. “You know, Scott, you really . . .” She shook her head.

“I really what?”

She huffed out a breath as his phone vibrated again. “Forget it.”

“I will.” He took the phone from his pocket as she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Scott, it’s Maddie.”

He watched Rae disappear into the courtroom and
felt a twinge of disappointment because she never finished her sentence.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He headed for the exit, sidestepping the line of people stacked up at the metal detector.

“I was hoping you could do me a favor,” Maddie said.

Scott stepped into the sunlight and scanned the meters for his pickup.

“Do you think you have time?”

“Not really. What’s the favor?” he asked, even though it didn’t matter. He’d do it anyway, because he liked her. Of all the CSIs he knew, Maddie was the least prone to dumb-ass mistakes, such as using a pen to pick up a firearm by the barrel, thereby preserving fingerprints on the weapon but potentially fucking up other evidence.

“I’ve got a shell casing from a crime scene,” she said, “and I told a friend of mine I’d see if I could get it analyzed. It’s kind of a rush job.”

“Who’s the friend?” Scott spotted his truck and saw the ticket tucked under the wiper blade.

“An FBI agent I know. His name’s Brian Beckman.”

“Never heard of him.”

“I bet he never heard of you, either.”

Scott dug the keys from his pocket. Maddie had an attitude, and he’d always liked that about her. “This the guy from the lab last night?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Saw you talking to someone on the steps.”

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s part of a task force investigating a young woman’s kidnapping.”

Scott should have figured it was something like
that. Maddie had a soft spot for anything that involved women or kids.

“So, will you do it?”

“Drop it by the lab, and I’ll take a look.”

“I already did. Thank you
so
much. I owe you one. So does my friend.”

He stuffed the ticket into his pocket. “Yeah, well,
you
are welcome. Tell the fed next time, he can use his own lab.”

Maddie finished her response to the last urgent e-mail in her in-box and pressed send. She glanced at her watch. Five o’clock, and these photos had been promised yesterday. The investigator who’d been pinging her all afternoon obviously wasn’t happy she was running behind, but that was too bad. He could take a number.

“Who’s the hot cop?”

She glanced up as Brooke sauntered into the room and dumped her coat onto a chair. “Excuse me?”

“In the lobby. Some delectable-looking lawman is out there asking for you.” She smiled. “Is he business or pleasure?”

Maddie’s phone rang, and she picked up. “Photography.”

“There’s a Special Agent Brian Beckman here to see you,” the receptionist said.

“I’ll be right there.” Maddie jumped up from her chair and glanced at her watch again. She knew why Brian was here, and he was going to be disappointed.

“Well?” Brooke was still smiling.

“Business,” Maddie said, and headed out the door.

She found him in the lobby and felt an unwelcome surge of attraction. He was leaning casually against the counter and making conversation with the receptionist, who—until today—had been known for hitting the door every evening at five sharp. Brian was once again in dark slacks and a button-down with the cuffs rolled back. At the sound of her footsteps, he glanced over, and the warm look in his eyes made her nerves flutter.

“I got your e-mail,” he said by way of greeting.

“Did you read all of it? Mia can’t meet with us until tomorrow. She’s got a class this evening.”

“This shouldn’t take long.”

Maddie stopped beside the counter and gazed up at him. He had the determined expression of someone accustomed to seeing an obstacle and barreling right through it.

She glanced at the receptionist, who was watching attentively. “Has Dr. Voss left for the day?”

“I don’t believe so.”

She looked at Brian. “Follow me.”

They reached the elevator bank right as the doors dinged open and the Delphi Center’s top DNA specialist stepped out.

“Uh-oh,” Maddie said. “You’re leaving.”

“I’ve got a class at six.” She flicked a glance at Brian, clearly sensing the ambush. “And I’m running late.”

“Mia, this is Brian Beckman with the FBI. He’s investigating my case.”

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Voss, but we need a quick update on your DNA findings from that tripod,” Brian said. “It’s important.”

Mia checked her watch. She shot Maddie a look that clearly said,
You owe me, big time
.

“Have a seat in the conference room.” She nodded toward the room behind them. “I’ll run up and get my file.”

Brian walked into the meeting room and wasted no time making himself at home in one of the faux-leather chairs around the conference table. Maddie stood by the door.

“You don’t hear the word
no
a lot, do you?”

“I’m sorry?” He pretended not to understand, and she shook her head.

Brian watched her steadily, and she took a seat across from him in the hopes that putting a table between them would keep her from thinking about last night’s kiss. Unfortunately, it didn’t. It was still front and center in her mind, where it had been all day.

She folded her arms and looked away, annoyed with herself for being uncomfortable. It was only a kiss, for God’s sake. Not even a long one. It had lasted, what, a few seconds? Warmth spread through her at the memory, and she forced herself not to look at him, but she could feel his gaze on her.

“Your friend seemed surprised when you introduced me,” he said.

“I imagine she’s wondering why the FBI’s involved in my mugging.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“You told me discretion was important to the case. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut.”

“Good for you.”

Mia came into the room and dropped a file onto the
table. She pulled up a chair but didn’t even bother to take off her scarf, and Maddie knew they were making her very late.

“Where do you teach?” Brian asked.

“The university.” She flipped open the file without looking at him. “It’s a CLE class—continuing legal education.”

“So, your students are lawyers?”

“Not a group that likes to be kept waiting.” She flipped the page of a typed report. “Okay, I swabbed the leg of your tripod where you noticed the blood droplet.”

Brian looked at Maddie. “You drew blood? Nice job.”

“I got a profile, which I ran through CODIS,” Mia continued. “No hits in the Offender Index, but—” She turned the page around and slid it in front of Maddie. “We got a forensic hit.” She glanced at Brian. “That means the DNA from the tripod matches an unidentified profile previously recovered from a crime scene.”

Maddie skimmed the report, which contained mostly jargon. She noticed the phone number listed beside the contact law-enforcement agency.

“Area code 213. Where’s that?”

Brian leaned forward. “Los Angeles. What kind of case?”

“A homicide.” Mia flipped through the rest of the paperwork. “I contacted LAPD—they’re the agency listed with the record—and they patched me through to a Detective Vega. He was very tight-lipped.” She glanced at Brian. “Which isn’t the usual reaction I get. Typically, investigators are pretty glad to get a new lead. Especially in an open case.”

“You get the name of the victim?” he asked, and Maddie noticed the intensity of his expression.

“Yes, and that’s about
all
I got,” Mia said. “The name is Gillian Dawson. I also got her date of birth and the date the case was opened. That’s it.” She stood up and nodded at Maddie. “That file’s yours. I’ve got a copy on my computer.”

Brian stood, too. “Thanks for making time for us.”

“No problem.” She shot Maddie a look that conveyed about a dozen unspoken questions. “We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

When she was gone, Maddie stared down at the file, shaking her head. “Twenty-one years old.”

Brian came around and took the vacated chair beside her. “Mind?” he asked, sliding the papers closer. As Maddie watched him read, her stomach filled with dread. A heavy silence settled over the room. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket.

“Beckman.” He looked at Maddie. “I caught her . . . yeah. Okay, on my way.”

He clicked off, and she knew what he was going to say.

“Hey, you mind if I—”

“Yes.” She flipped the file shut.

“I’ll make a copy for you.”

“First, I want some questions answered.”

“Yeah, I do, too. And I need to get this info to the task force so we can develop this lead.”

She pulled the folder closer. “The man who attacked me is now linked to a kidnapping
and
a homicide. Who the hell is this?”

“I told you. He’s a strongman for—”

“For that doctor, I know. But who the hell is
he
? And don’t give me some vague crap about racketeering. What is this about, Brian? Why are these girls being targeted?”

He looked at her, his expression guarded.

“I didn’t ask to be in the middle of this,” she said, “but now I am, and I want some answers.”

“I understand. And I’ll explain everything. At least, what we know about it. But it can’t happen right now.”

She held his gaze stubbornly.

“Listen, tomorrow’s Saturday. I can probably get away for a few hours. We can talk then.”

She watched him, hating how helpless she felt. She’d never before dreaded going home to her own house, but that’s how she felt right now. She felt scared. And the one person who could probably put her fears to rest was racing out the door, probably to jump in front of another bullet.

“Maddie, I promise.”

The words made her trust him. She had no idea why, but they did. She slid the file toward him.