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Rideout perched his gloved hands on the edge of the gurney. “No, ma’am. Not so much as a partial on either.”
“Anything unique about the card?” Trent asked. “The deck it came from could mean something, or even confirm a suspect.”
“You’d have to talk with the CSIs for more information there,” Rideout told them.
She nodded. “Is there evidence of consensual sex or rape?”
“None.”
That was yet another way the scene didn’t perfectly align to the book. The Romeo Killer seduced the women he killed. If Luis Navarro was Felicity’s killer, consensual intercourse would have been off the table. At least he hadn’t raped her to set the scene. “And no champagne bottle or flutes,” she said more to herself than the others.
Rideout’s eyes narrowed. “Now, I’m out of the loop.”
“Goes back to Felicity’s bestseller,” she told him. “Any more confident on time of death?”
“Definitely between ten and midnight, as I had surmised on scene.” He picked up his scalpel, a not-so-subtle cue for them to settle in for the show or leave.
“We’ll go,” Amanda said. “Call if you find anything else we should know.”
“You know I will.”
Amanda and Trent cleared out of the morgue. It would be about five thirty when they got back to Woodbridge. There was time to salvage the evening to be with Logan and Zoe, and whoever else happened by the house.
Still no call from Courtney What’s-Her-Name. It looked like Luis Navarro should be getting comfortable for an overnight stay in the cells. The thought was appealing, and she was even somewhat at peace with Luis locked up tight.
She checked her email as Trent got them on the highway. At least it held some highlights. “I received the email from Ian Moss with the confidentiality forms, and one from Kristopher Black with the emails we were interested in as attachments.”
“Terrific. Guessing you’ll fire those over to Briggs?”
“You betcha.” She took care of that and returned to the email from Ian. The confidentiality forms were sent as a PDF and could be signed electronically. She forwarded one to Trent, and his phone immediately chimed.
He tilted his head. “That from you?”
“Uh-huh. You’re starting to become a mind reader like one of your sisters.”
“Not exactly. And she’s not a mind reader as much as she’s a clairvoyant… or so she says.” He smiled over at her and took the exit for Woodbridge.
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not according to her. Anyway, I’m guessing it was the confidentiality form?”
“Right again. When you hit a red light or once we get back to the station, just sign off on it and flip it back. Then the gates of the kingdom will open,” she jested, trying to insert some joviality. It was hard to shake the images from the morgue, of Felicity’s lifeless body… Death was so very final. Full stop.
“I’d like to read it first, if that’s all right with you.” He turned down the street for Central.
“I suppose that’s probably a good idea. We might as well run it past Malone too.” She wasn’t enthused about the delay, but reading before signing was the responsible thing to do. Besides they wouldn’t get anywhere flipping it back today as the publishing house would already be closed.
Trent parked, and they went into the station. Before heading to talk to Malone, they swung by their desks and printed two copies of the confidentiality form for reading through. Amanda also made a call to Logan, which he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey.” She wondered how beautiful he’d find her when she relayed that she was running a bit late.
“You’re going to be home really late, aren’t you?”
All it took was one word for him to assume that. Not that she blamed him, given the time. “Not too late. I should be home within the hour.”
“You’ll be able to have dinner with us. Wowie,” Logan teased and laughed.
