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 coffee 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.
“You guys know Brooke Porter with Delphi,” Sean said as she took a seat. “She’s got some updates on the lab work for us.”
Everyone knew Brooke, at least by name. His teammates nodded greetings as Sean grabbed the seat beside her.
“Let’s start with the autopsy first.” Reynolds looked at Ric. “You were there?”
“Sean and I drove up at six,” Ric said.
Travis County Medical Examiner’s Office in Austin handled most of the autopsies in their county, which created logistical headaches, especially since the pathologist liked to start cutting people open at the crack of dawn.
“The formal report should be ready tomorrow,” Ric said, “but we have the basics. First off, he confirmed her identity. Samantha Bonner, twenty-three.”
Reynolds jotted some notes on a legal pad. “And what do we know about her?”
“She’s single, no kids. Works as a shift manager at a coffee shop here in town,” Ric said. “And we stopped over there on our way back in. Her boss tells us she was also taking classes at the university.”
Reynolds shook his head. “Just what we need. A dead college student. The media’s going to be all over this.”
Sean felt Brooke tense beside him.
“As for cause of death,” Ric continued, flipping open his notebook, “sharp-force injury to the neck. Specifically, transection of the left and right carotid arteries, and incision of the left and right jugular veins.”
“So, he slit her throat,” Reynolds said.
Ric nodded, although that description seemed mild to Sean. Brooke’s was closer to the truth. He’d damn near cut her head off.
“From the angle of the wound,” Sean said, “the ME thinks he grabbed her from behind and tipped her head back.”
Brooke shuddered.
“Murder weapon is a large knife with a serrated blade,” Ric added. “Probably a hunting knife.”
Across the table, Callie grimaced. She’d been on the scene last night, but the body had already been removed, so she hadn’t seen the full extent of the carnage. You could tell a lot from the amount of blood everywhere, though.
Reynolds looked around the table. “What else? We have the murder weapon?”
“No,” Sean said.
“We canvassed the area,” Jasper put in. “We didn’t find it, so it looks like he took it with him, although we didn’t find any blood trails leading away from the body. But that may be because of the rain.”
Ric flipped another page in his notebook. “No defensive wounds on her hands or arms. No sexual assault.”
“The pathologist thinks the whole attack lasted a few seconds,” Sean said. “He thinks it was an ambush.”
Reynolds blew out a breath. “What about witnesses?”
“We interviewed the neighbors,” Callie said. “Nobody saw anything until the woman next door let her dog out and spotted the body there on the back porch. There’s a chain-link fence between the two houses.”
“Well, shit.” Reynolds looked around the table. “You’re basically saying that this girl was murdered on her doorstep and nobody saw a damn thing. What about the lab work?” His gaze homed in on Brooke.
She folded her hands on top of her file, and Sean admired her calm in the face of the lieutenant’s bluster. “The ME sent us her fingerprint card this morning. We lifted prints from the doorknobs, both interior and exterior, and all those come back to the victim. Also, we found no blood trails or bloody shoe prints inside that would indicate the perpetrator entered the house after the attack.”
“Why would he?” Reynolds looked at Sean. “You said it was an ambush.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Well, the back door was open, so it looked like someone might have been inside.”
“Open as in unlocked, or open open?”
“Standing open,” Sean told the lieutenant. “Right, Brooke? You made the scene before I did.”
She nodded. “The crime-scene photos confirm that. The door was open with the victim’s body a few inches away. Our CSIs collected other fingerprints, too. On her car door, for instance. Those belonged to her, as well.”
“What about the baggie from the car?” Ric asked.
“I haven’t seen the results of the drug test, but I printed the plastic bag this morning. I got one good print and it belongs to the victim.”
The lieutenant’s bushy eyebrows popped up. “Wait, drugs?”
“A little over two grams of cocaine,” Ric said. “It was in the glove box.”
“So, what’s your case theory, then?” Reynolds looked around the table. “Are you thinking it’s a drug thing?”
“We don’t have a case theory yet,” Sean said. “And I don’t think it’s a drug thing.”
“Why not?”
Sean hesitated a beat. “That’s not the impression I get based on the evidence so far.”
Reynolds blew out a sigh. “So, we’ve got no murder weapon. No witnesses. No blood trails, no bloody shoe prints, no fingerprints except the victim’s. We’ve got no case theory, except maybe drugs, but you’re not convinced.” Reynolds tossed down his pencil and crossed his arms. “Sounds to me like we got a whole lot of nothing.”
“Actually, that’s not accurate.”
Everyone turned to Brooke.
“I think you have a witness.”