The Marine's Last Defence. Angi Morgan

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      “It’ll get easier, you know,” Shirley, the crime scene analyst, interrupted his self-deprecation.

      He stopped himself from asking what she referred to by compressing his lips together. He knew the answer, just didn’t want to have the conversation.

      “The ribbing goes away. This is how they treat all the new guys.”

      “Find anything?” He’d rather hear about the case—even if he wasn’t officially a part of the investigation.

      “It will all be in my report. I’d rather not take wild guesses.”

      “Hey, this is Jake Craig, the detective who’s not officially on the case. Can’t you give me the unofficial version? It won’t go any further. Promise.” He flashed her a smile, hoping it did the trick. Blatant flirting never hurt.

      “Okay. It looks like she was killed at the park. Only a drop of blood in the kitchen and no real struggle other than in the living room.”

      “Any fingerprints? The dog sitter said the victim kept things clean and lived alone.”

      “The table does appear to have been shattered today. Very few of the pieces were ground deeply into the carpet. The prints left around the house are fresh and easy to find. We’ll rule out the victim’s easily enough.”

      “So it was wiped clean?”

      “I don’t think so. I agree with the missing dog sitter. I believe the victim did like things clean and took care of it almost daily.” His confusion must have appeared on his face since Shirley continued. “Look around you. The owner of this house had a black dog and white carpet. Either the dog didn’t live inside, or someone was meticulous about cleaning.”

      “Got it. What about the footprints in the backyard?” he asked as the analyst gathered her gear. “Anything there?”

      Jake stuck his hands in his pockets. He caught a glimpse of his tattered appearance in the mirror and pushed his shoulders back, standing tall. His mother had taught him he looked defeated when he slouched. He wouldn’t let this situation defeat him.

      The marines corrected the high school self-consciousness of being six inches taller than everyone else around him. But his first week out of uniform, faced with a divorce, living with his parents and not having a future had his mother badgering him to stand up straight on more than one occasion.

      “With the layer of snow and ice, it’s impossible to gather anything. Let’s just say the little bit of evidence I’ve collected won’t be the strongest lead for solving this homicide.” She slipped into her coat.

      “Did you catch what the medical examiner surmised was the cause of death?” Definitely strangulation in his opinion. He’d seen the same bloodred eyes on a marine killed by a local militant.

      “This isn’t official, mind you, but the M.E. noted the subconjunctival hemorrhages before they moved the body.” With the last of her winter wear in place, she lifted her cases and flashed him a smile. “In layman terms, she was strangled.”

      He followed her to the front door and held the outer one open, lowering his voice. “Sounds premeditated if they made it look like it happened while walking her dog and then came back here to cook themselves breakfast.”

      “Came back is right. They estimated her TOD sometime between eight and eleven last night.”

      Premeditated and yet the death wasn’t violent like a lovers’ quarrel. The guy had probably strangled her while she was walking the dog.

      Heartless? Had they left the pup to freeze or not killed the dog because they liked animals? Premeditation bugged him. It didn’t fit. The murderer seemed to be waiting around for something—or somebody—after the murder. Had the dog sitter taken them by surprise or had they been lying in wait?

      Exactly who had she been running from when he drove up and why had she run when he was upstairs?

      “Shirley?” He caught up with her on the front walk. “I need a favor.” Jake handed her his business card. “Can you send the results from the fingerprint search to me? Specifically the one you lifted from the kitchen drawer. That’s my cell.”

      “Sure, but I thought Owens said—”

      “Yeah, the favor is you’re not going to tell him I know.”

      “Oh, that won’t be a problem. So you think we’ll find a match.” Shirley stashed his card in her pocket.

      “She was too scared for her knees to work. And there is the fact that she ran without putting on her shoes.” As indicated by two sets of bare footprints that led into the street.

      “It would seem so.” Shirley smiled and picked up her case. “I meant to ask, what happened to the dog from this morning?”

      “Animal Control showed up this time.” It helped when they were actually called—which he’d done personally. “A kid saw Dallas with me at the park and led me here.”

      “That was lucky, then. I hope someone claims her. Big, black dogs don’t get adopted so easily, especially ones with a blind eye. See ya.” She waved and got into her car.

      Jake sat in his car. “Blind eye? I couldn’t tell she was half-blind. Dallas is a good pup. Somebody will adopt her.”

      The dog deserved someone with a huge yard. Or someone close to a park where she could be trained to catch flying disks or retrieve tennis balls. From the little he’d seen of her interaction with Bree, Dallas had a huge heart. And the loyalty she’d displayed staying with her owner and fighting not to leave her side after she’d been freed, sort of reminded him of his marine brothers.

      Would a pup like that get adopted? Or was it amazing she’d been adopted the first time. He’d seen genuine relief on his mystery woman’s face when he’d walked up with Dallas. Call it a hunch or good detective work, but he’d bet his next paycheck that Bree wouldn’t let Dallas stay overnight in the city pound.

      Owens and the rest of the responders were out front, walking toward their vehicles. If he was right about the dog sitter showing up to rescue Dallas, he’d obtain the answers to many of his questions. Official case or not, it wouldn’t stop him from finding the murderer.

      He’d stared into Brenda Ellen Richardson’s death gaze. He was connected to her. He’d also held a half-frozen dog walker in his arms and hoped somehow he was wrong about why she’d been so dang frightened. And especially wrong about why she’d run away.

      After a series of calls, Jake finally got the information he needed and the pound location. He circled through a hamburger joint and dealt with his stomach’s insistence to be fed. Two burgers and twenty minutes later, he parked in the far corner of the parking lot at the Dallas Animal Services and waited.

      Late on a Saturday afternoon, there weren’t too many people around. Most of the visitors had a kid or two with them. When a woman driving a really nice ride pulled to a stop, Jake’s attention perked up.

      Sure enough, less than fifteen minutes later, she had Dallas on a leash and was loading her into the backseat. Jake didn’t have to tail the woman closely. They were following the path they’d both taken to get there...straight back to White СКАЧАТЬ