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Nevada looked around the room. “I don’t see it.”
She noted the back door handle had been dusted for prints. It was ajar. She made a note to check with the investigative crew to determine if they had found the door this way.
The refrigerator was stocked with a dozen cans of beer, a nearly empty jar of peanut butter, a jar of kosher pickles, a bowl full of butter packets, and various other condiments.
Macy checked the cabinets, revealing more hand-me-down dishes, cups, and glasses. “Reminds me of Mom and her crazy collection.”
“She passed away when you were in college, correct?”
She was surprised he remembered the detail. “Yes.”
“Did she ever talk to you about your adoption?”
Macy didn’t look anything like her adoptive parents and had become accustomed to answering queries about adoption from an early age. “Not much. When I asked her years ago about my birth mother, she said she didn’t have any details about her.”
“Do you think she knew the truth?”
“I’d like to believe Mom and Pop didn’t know the worst of it, but I’ll never know. My mother was an expert at ignoring some things. Pop knew my birth mother had died in childbirth, but he never reported her death.”
“Your father was afraid of what would happen to you, his wife, and him if he did.”
It didn’t surprise her that Nevada had dug into the details of the case. “I suppose so.”
Macy glanced at a wall calendar dangling under a couple of frog magnets. Both Debbie and Beth had penciled in their work schedules. Debbie had crossed out the dates from Sunday to Tuesday and added Beth’s name.
They walked down the hallway toward the bedroom and found two technicians in the back bedroom on the left. One was shooting pictures of the room, and one was dusting for prints by the open window.
The sheets on the bed were rumpled and the remote sat on the nightstand, along with a bag of chips. He could picture Beth sitting here watching television.
“Beth was a strong woman,” Nevada said. “Physically. If a big patient needed help with mobility, they called Beth.”
“There weren’t defensive wounds on her hands,” Macy said as she walked to the window and peered out. “He surprised her. Maybe she dozed off while she was watching television.”
In the adjoining bathroom, gray pajama pants and a football T-shirt were discarded on the floor. An uncapped tube of toothpaste squeezed in the middle sat alongside her toothbrush, which lay on its side. In the shower there was a collection of shampoos, a razor, and a sliver of white soap.
“Her last evening had been normal until she dozed off and awoke to him standing over her.” She turned toward a secondhand dresser with eight drawers and faded brass oval pulls. On top of the dresser were six earrings scattered around. At first glance the chaos was another casualty of an overworked medical assistant ready to kick back after a long shift.
“The earrings were arranged in a neat row. Side by side. A collection of singles, something anyone who has earrings has. But the singles get tossed in a drawer or jewelry box because you’re still holding on to the hope that the mate will be found. I’ve never laid mine out on a dresser like this.”
She reached in her back pocket and removed her phone, snapping several pictures of the collection.
“The intruder collected one of each earring for a trophy or souvenir,” Nevada said.
She glanced to the nightstand holding a picture of Beth. Her smile was genuine and brilliant as the sun captured the green in her eyes. “Beth’s wearing a delicate set of hoop earrings with small gemstones.”
Nevada found the lone moon-shaped earring with the sparkle gem on the dresser. “Whoever killed Beth was watching her for a while.”
“I agree.” Macy turned to the technician. “Any idea how he came into the house?”
The tech lowered her camera. “The back door was open.”
“Are there shoe prints leading up to it?” Nevada asked.
“I might have a partial footprint,” the tech offered. “I’ve marked the print with red flags and have made molds.”
“Could you identify what kind of shoe it was?” Nevada asked.
“I’d say a man’s athletic shoe, size ten or eleven based on the print found near the gate.”
“We’ll have a look.”
Macy followed Nevada out the back door of the house. He clicked on a flashlight, illuminating the path as they moved toward the back fence. The light caught the red flags and white remnants of the cast. He pointed the light over the fence. “This is rough terrain and a hard area to search at night. We can double back tomorrow.”
“I can keep up. Let’s go.”
“Suit yourself.”
Macy followed Nevada as he studied the area around the back door and then along a narrow footpath that led to the gate. He opened the gate and they stepped through it, moving toward the dense stand of woods.
As he approached, he moved carefully and deliberately toward a thicker swath of muck and then another. He knelt and studied a drying mud puddle under the glare of his flashlight. Stamped in the middle was an arching shoe impression common in many sports shoes.
Macy knelt down, cringing a little. With her phone she snapped pictures. “Did it rain here recently?”
“Saturday night.”
“Beth and Debbie look alike. Maybe he didn’t care which one he took. Both were his type, and killing either one would have given him the thrill he needed.”
“The forensic technician needs to make a cast of this footprint.”
Macy rose a little too quickly and her leg cramped in protest. Pain jolted her and she stumbled slightly. She caught herself by grabbing Nevada’s arm.
His hand wrapped around her forearm, steadying her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “I’m good.”
“We can take a moment, Macy.”
Macy curled her fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to massage her leg. “Pain reminds me I’m alive. It reminds me of my purpose.”
Nevada studied her a long moment, then shook his head and cursed. “Ramsey sent you to me knowing you weren’t ready for this. You need more time to heal.”
“You make it sound like Ramsey sent the B team.”
“I didn’t mean that. Ramsey put the case before your health, Macy.”
Macy possessed a fair number of foul words in her arsenal, and she swallowed a mouthful. “When this case is solved, everyone will see how effective I still am.”
Brooke Bennett received several texts from Bruce Shaw, informing her he was running late. First time it was the game, which had gone into overtime. The second time, it was a call from his neighbor about a busted pipe.
By the time they met up in the assisted living facility’s parking lot, it was after ten. He pulled up in no particular rush and rose out of his car as if he had all the time in the world. He was wearing sweats and a sweatshirt. He moved with the step of a much younger man.
She rose out of her car. “Dr. Shaw.”
He turned and smiled, moving toward her with purpose. “Deputy Bennett. What can I do for you?”
“I want to see the work schedules for the last month for the facility.”
“That’s going to take some time,” he said. “I’ll have to get with personnel, and they don’t open until nine a.m.” He grinned. “Banker’s hours.”
“I want to ask you about Beth Watson.”
He folded his arms. “What about her?”
“She was found murdered this evening.”
He stilled, drawing in a slow, even breath. “That’s terrible. Jesus. What happened?”
“I can’t give the specifics right now. Can you tell me if she had any trouble with anyone at work?”
“No. Hell, she was a nice kid. Tough homelife. I felt for her. She reminded me of where I came from.”
“Was there anyone or any incident that struck you as odd lately?”
&
nbsp; “We did have a break-in a few months ago. We had money stolen from petty cash and liquor taken from the café.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“I spoke to Sheriff Greene about it.”
“You called him directly?”
“He and I go way back. He was a big supporter of the team.”
She removed the cheek swab from her pocket. “Speaking of the team, that brings me to the second reason for my visit. Special Agent Crow has asked me to collect cheek swabs of all the football players from the 2004 season.”
He arched a brow. “Does she think one of us did it?”
“She’s covering all her bases. Do you consent?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Would you rather it be somewhere more private?”
“I have nothing to hide.”
She quickly pulled on gloves and removed the swab from its container. He opened his mouth wide.
As she leaned in toward him, she caught the scent of sweat from what must have been a strenuous workout. The muscles in her back tightened, and a tremor shot down her arm. Her heart beat faster.
“You okay, Deputy?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
