When the Smoke Clears (Deadly Reunions) (13 page)

Puzzlement flashed across her face. “Why?”

“I want to take a sample of the stuff that’s on here.”

Realization marched in. “Oh.”

He winced at the fact that she knew he didn’t want to leave her alone in the room with the evidence. He could also tell she was hurt by it. He’d have to explain he was just protecting her. Hopefully, she would understand.

Within minutes, Alexia returned with the processing kit.

Hunter opened it and pulled out the necessary equipment, including a pair of gloves. He snapped them on. “Will you close the blinds?”

Again with furrowed brow, she did as he asked. With the flashlight, Hunter examined the box. Several prints leapt up at him. Working diligently, he dusted the outside of the box, using the graphite powder.

Following each step just as he’d been taught years ago, he expertly lifted the prints and transferred them to the white 3 × 5 cards he pulled from the kit.

When he was finished with the prints, he lifted the substance around the clasp. After a drop of luminol, he held it up for her to see, not at all pleased he’d been right. “It’s positive for blood.”

“But whose?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll compare it to Devin’s.” Hunter stored the evidence on the Q-tip in the tube and placed it in the kit.

Now, to open the box.

With a glove-tipped finger, he slid the clasp to the right and lifted the lid.

His stomach churned as he pulled out the blood-encrusted knife.

She felt faint. For the first time in her life, Alexia thought she might actually pass out. Okay, for the second time, if she counted the fire.

Pulling in a calming breath, she focused on Hunter’s eyes. She had to know if he believed she put that knife there.

When she found no suspicion, the dizzying sensation passed and she said, “I don’t know how that got there. I didn’t put it there.” She winced. That’s what all criminals proclaimed when caught in the act, didn’t they? Maybe, but the difference between them and her was that she was telling the truth.

But did Hunter believe her? For some reason, that was the most important question buzzing around in her brain right now.

Thoughtful blue eyes stared at her. “I don’t think you did.”

She nearly wilted into the floor. Felt tears flood her eyes. Shocked at her reaction to his words, she simply stood still, fighting the emotion.

“I need to bag this, and it looks like I’ve got one big enough for the box, but I need another one for the knife.” He held the weapon by the end of the handle. Even from where she stood, she could see it was the missing kitchen knife.

“Right.” Grateful for the excuse to get out from under his watchful eye, she headed for the door. “Paper, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

She bolted from the room, nearly tripping down the steps. The newly carpeted steps, she noticed. In fact, a lot of things looked kind of new around here now that she took the time to take in the details.

Without further thought of her mother’s decorating habits, she searched the pantry for a paper bag. Finally, on the bottom shelf, she found one. She hurried back to the room she’d grown up in and handed it without comment to Hunter.

He took it and slid the knife inside. “I’ll take these to the lab. They could be totally unrelated to what happened with Devin.”

“But you don’t think so.”

He shook his head. “I . . . think that a man was killed in your mother’s basement with a knife. Up here, we have a bloody knife hidden away. Yeah. I think the two are related, but I’ll let the lab confirm it.”

“Why do you believe me?” She had to know.

He paused, then sighed. “A couple of reasons.”

She lifted her right brow to encourage him to share those with her.

“One, I’ve developed pretty good instincts over the years I’ve been in law enforcement. I’ve gotten to know you a little bit and I don’t see you as someone who could kill.”

She breathed a little easier. “Thank you for that, but I’m not buying it. In order for you to calmly say I didn’t do it, you’d have proof. So what is it?”

Admiration settled on his face, then he shrugged. “Yeah, true.” He gestured toward the knife. “When would you have put it there? You spent all night at Serena’s and were with me all morning.”

“I could have snuck back here during the night.”

He frowned, then flushed.

Knowledge hit her. “You had someone watching Serena’s house, didn’t you?”

The flush faded and his blue eyes bored into hers. “Yes.” He held up a hand to stall her protests. “And yes, partly because I wasn’t sure about you. And partly because I was worried whoever killed Devin would come back after you. After all, he knows you saw him. And even though he had a mask on, he’s not going to be comfortable that there’s a potential witness out there.”

Her protests died a sudden death. “Oh.”

He frowned. “I guess there is one time you could have done it.”

Her eyes widened. “When?”

“When you came to cut your mother’s grass.”

She deflated, then brightened. “Lori can vouch for me. She was here the minute I drove up to a couple minutes before the person started shooting darts at me.”

“Every minute? She can verify you never went into the house?”

Alexia frowned as she thought. “Yes, she can.”

“Okay, I’ll need to talk to her. But we have another problem.”

“What?”

“While I believe you didn’t put that knife there, I don’t know that everyone else is going to be so easy to convince.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” He sighed. “Due to the blood on the clasp, it looks like the knife was placed in the box shortly after the murder. The blood was still fresh, wet, when the killer put it there.”

Her brain processed what he was saying. “And the only person here right after the murder was me.” Dread settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach.

“Pretty much looks that way.” He touched her arm. “But I still believe you didn’t do it.”

“Okay.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Then who did and why?”

18

Wednesday, 9:37 a.m.

With those questions still ringing between them, Hunter finished processing the room. He figured he wouldn’t find anything new, but he did it anyway. When he finished, he took Alexia back to Serena’s house. She wanted to pick up her car and visit her mother. He wanted to get the box and the knife over to the lab.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt the knife had been placed in the upstairs bedroom while he and Alexia were in the basement. The idea didn’t sit well with him, but it nagged at him enough that he finally caved and gave it some merit.

However, if the box had been planted upstairs, that meant the perp had it in his possession. But how? And for how long?

Alexia said she’d hidden the box in the basement. Had the killer found it when he’d killed Devin?

Nothing was adding up and yet everything was.

The book on the floor.

The cat.

The cracked front door.

Someone had been in that house. The cat had just been a coincidence.

Or a well-thought-out plan in case something went wrong? Like knocking a book off the end table in a hurry to leave?

Had the person in that house been trying to frame Alexia? Possibly. In fact, with the appearance of the bloody knife, it’s the only thing that made sense. But why?

And why come in while Hunter was there? The person had to have seen his car out front.

Unless the person had already been in the house when they arrived. The thought chilled him.

If he hadn’t made the spur-of-the-moment decision to show up at Serena’s house, Alexia would have gone home alone. And he might very well be investigating two murders.

That bothered him.

A lot.

He turned into the parking lot of the crime lab and climbed out of the car, taking the brown bag containing the knife. While he figured he knew whose blood was on the blade, he needed it confirmed. He also needed to know if Alexia’s prints were on there.

Of course, if they were, would it mean much? She could come and go in that house as she pleased.

However, she said herself she hadn’t done anything but walk in the door before she heard something in the basement. She said she hadn’t touched the knives. If her prints were on it . . .

Pushing through the door, Hunter made his way to the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. When the doors opened, he stepped out into a hub of quiet, well-run activity. Conversations buzzed, techs rushed evidence from one end of the lab to the other. Two cops hovered over the coffee machine, no doubt hoping to press for faster service on an urgent case.

Probably wouldn’t happen. At least not for them.

Hunter hoped he would have a different outcome. Rounding the corner to the second office on the left, he saw Rick sitting at his desk, head bent over a stack of papers.

Hunter rapped his knuckles on the door. “Hey buddy, how you doing?”

Rick’s head lifted. When he saw Hunter with the paper bag held in plain sight, he raised a brow. “I take it you didn’t stop by to set up a tennis date.”

“We can do that too.”

Rick snorted and waved him in. “What do you need?”

“I’m working the Wickham case.”

“Ah.” Rick nodded. “Yeah, that one came through last night.” He frowned and motioned to the bag. “But what’s that? I thought we had all the evidence.”

“I found this a little while ago. In one of the bedrooms at the crime scene.”

Rick’s frown morphed into tight-jawed anger and his eyes narrowed. “Something CSU missed?”

“I don’t think so. At least I hope not.” He paused. “I honestly don’t know but suspect this was planted after they left.” Hunter explained the incident in the Allens’ house, then threw in his theories for good measure.

“That’s not good, my friend.”

Hunter snorted. “Tell me about it. I’m just glad I was there.”

“So, and this is just a wild guess, you want me to process this while you wait.”

Hunter smiled.

Rick sighed. “Right.”

“Just DNA and fingerprints.”

“The DNA will take awhile, you know that. Fingerprints I can do. Have a seat, I’ll be right back.” He walked to the door, then paused and turned back to Hunter. “Actually, you want to see something cool?”

Five minutes later, Hunter watched as Rick reverently pulled a machine from its box. “We just got this last week. They’re relatively new but have proven effective at lifting prints. It’s an EDAX Eagle II XPL MXRF instrument with a 40 W rhodium anode and a liquid nitrogen cooled Si—”

“Rick.”

Rick looked up. “Huh?”

“English? Please?”

“Oh right. Sorry. Basically, it’s a newfangled way to lift prints. It uses a laser instead of powder. The laser detects sodium, potassium, and chlorine present on the ridges . . .”

An image appeared on the screen in front of them as Rick continued his lecture. “The fingerprints show up thanks to the chemical markers, displaying ridge patterns of prints, allowing a visible image to be seen. Like there.”

The fingerprint stared up at him. “Awesome. Now can you match it?”

A heavy sigh blew through Rick’s lips. “You really don’t care at all about the techie stuff, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Thirty-two years old and you act like you’re one of the old fogies ready for retirement,” his buddy mumbled—loud enough for Hunter to hear.

It was a long-standing argument between the two. Hunter just wanted the job done and he didn’t much care how it happened. Rick wanted everyone to understand the technical side of forensics—whether they wanted to understand it or not.

Rick moved on to the next print. And the next. Finally, he said, “That’s all that’s on there. It’ll take me awhile to match them up. I may have to call in our analyst.”

“How long?”

“I can give you a list of possible matches before you leave, but until I—or an analyst—sit down and go over them point by point . . . well, you know the deal. It’ll be awhile.”

Hunter reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “All right. Give me the list and I’ll see if I recognize any of the names.”

19

Wednesday, 11:14 a.m.

Alexia made the trip to the hospital and parked in the same area in the garage. She’d have parked in the same spot if it had been available. Almost as though she wanted to dare her attacker to try again.

Almost.

She couldn’t believe someone had been in her mother’s house—
again
. And planting evidence in an attempt to frame her? Really?

The thought scared her and she had to admit she was doubly glad to be staying at Serena’s home. The one with the nice fancy alarm system.

As she climbed out of the car, she stood and listened. Cars passing on the street below.

A conversation one aisle over.

Footsteps.

Behind her.

In disbelief, she turned and saw a young mother carrying her toddler as she clipped her way to the elevator.

Stomach churning, Alexia hurried to the elevator behind the young woman and made her way to her mother’s room. Just as she was about to knock, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.