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“This looks like the real deal,” she said.
“She found out exactly what it looked like.”
“Her contact within the department.” With everything going on it had been a while since she’d thought of this, but he or she needed to be found out and reported.
“That or the maid. I wouldn’t put it past her to share the details of how she found Chapman.”
“A possibility. She didn’t tell us she’d shared as much with Felicity, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t.”
“I’d say Kelley was hung up on the intruder’s supposed route too.” Trent pointed toward the screen.
Just as they had been… “Let’s see what else there is.”
Trent opened more image files. They found ones of the brooch and onyx cufflinks that she would have obtained from Chapman’s parents. There was also a picture of a framed photograph.
“The interns. Probably the picture she got from McCormick. Print that in color, Trent.”
He sent it through to the printer, and it started whirring as it warmed up. In the meantime, she had him enlarge it, and they studied the image. One man’s face was circled.
“He look familiar to you?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Me neither.” She snatched the photo off the printer, stared at the man again, feeling disappointed she couldn’t place him. Though there was this tiny fluttering inside her. A recognition on some level? “What about the documents? Anything that says so-and-so is the killer?”
Trent smirked and shook his head. “We can only hope.”
“Well, Felicity locked up the drive for some reason. And there’s that circle…” Was it too much to hope for something more definitive? Though she knew the answer to that question without dwelling on it for long. It was pointless to expect life would be that easy. She recalled her thinking about the timing—Felicity’s trip to Washington and opening the box. “Have you heard back from Ian Moss yet?”
“Only to say he’d have HR get it over.”
She nodded, and they kept working. They found news articles and opinion pieces within the research folder. Amanda eventually wheeled in her chair because she couldn’t continue to stand.
Much of what they found covered the Chapman case, and there was a lot on how beauty and good looks affected promotion, as well as how popular opinion influenced unfairly. One article was entitled “How Attractive You Are Equals More Success.” The rest were similarly headlined.
Trent flumped back in his chair. “What does any of this have to do with the Chapman case?”
“All I can think is Chapman was a beautiful woman, and she got everything handed to her in life…” Honestly, she was at a loss too, but they must be missing some small thread that stitched all this together.
“Daddy’s money had a lot to do with that.”
“But was it the only reason? She was stunning.”
“I don’t think that swayed McCormick.”
“Except his pick would have been Kurt, if he hadn’t essentially been forced to fire him. And Kurt was the best-looking of the bunch.”
Trent rubbed his forehead. “How does any of this get us to the killer?”
“That I don’t know.”
An email notice popped up in the bottom of Trent’s monitor. It was from Ian Moss, and he wasted no time opening it.
“What happened to HR?” she asked.
“Don’t know.” There was an attachment, but a scan of the message told them Ian Moss had decided to handle the matter himself. Ian added that the spreadsheet included everyone—in paid positions and interns—who had been transferred from Between the Pages at the time of acquisition. He had marked those who were still currently employed by Garrison & Marrow with an asterisk.
“He gave us more than we needed. Wonderful. But all we need to focus on to start are those who are still current employees.”
