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“Do you think he does?”
“That depends on how much our killer thinks Nigel knows. If he’s truly a hanger-on, maybe our guy doesn’t see Nigel as a threat.”
“Not like Libby.” She grabbed for the check when the waitress placed the tray on the edge of the table. “I’ll put this one on my card.”
“Then let’s head back. I’ve got a date with Marie.”
Forty minutes later when they’d made their way to the evidence room in the basement, Christina did feel as if she had interrupted a date.
The woman behind the cage squealed when she saw Eric step off the elevator. She knocked her glasses from her nose where they swung on a chain around her neck. “If it isn’t one of the bodacious Brody boys come to visit an old lady and make her day.”
Eric laughed and grabbed the cage, sticking his fingers through the spaces. “That’ll be the day when anyone calls you an old lady, Marie.”
She clicked her tongue. “You always were more charming than Sean, but that one’s been loosening up ever since he started dating that pretty little blonde.”
“A teacher, huh? We haven’t met her yet.”
“Soft as a spring rain on the outside, that one.” She thumped her chest with her fist. “But made of steel inside. She’ll be good for your brother.”
Christina stood in the background, her hands folded in front of her. Should she try to appear as soft as a spring rain so this formidable woman would approve of her, too? That was gonna be hard.
Eric stepped to the side. “I’m sorry. Marie Giardano, this is Christina Sandoval—Agent Sandoval.”
Marie stuck her hand out the window of the cage. “I’ve heard all about Agent Sandoval from that little Rita Griego. You’ve got a big fan, Agent Sandoval.”
Christina shook the older woman’s be-ringed hand. “Please, call me Christina, and Officer Griego seems like a good cop.”
“Oh, she is. She’ll go far.” Marie tapped the side of her head. “I’ve seen them come and go, and she’s got the fire.”
Eric leaned on the counter. “I have to confess, Marie, I didn’t come down here just to flirt with you.”
“That’s okay, son. I’ll take what I can get, when I can get it.” She winked broadly at Christina.
“I’d like to see the old file on my kidnapping.”
Marie frowned, biting her lower lip. “You’ve seen it before, right?”
“I have, but I learned something recently and I want to check it against the information in the file.”
Marie hunched forward, her prominent nose almost touching the mesh. “I’ll tell you what I told Sean when he came poking around here in the old file. ‘I’ll give it to you, but don’t bother signing out for it.’ That way there’s no record.”
“Why wouldn’t I want there to be a record? It’s my own kidnapping.”
She shook her head. “Don’t ask me that, Eric. There was no record that Sean looked over your father’s case files, and yet, Dr. Patrick still wound up dead.”
Christina’s gaze darted toward Eric. What was Marie implying?
Eric spread his hands. “I told Sean at the time, there was no evidence of foul play in the doctor’s death.”
“No evidence based on the tests they ran during the autopsy, but what about the tests they didn’t run?”
“My brother still thinks Dr. Patrick was murdered?”
“Let’s just say he thinks the doc was conveniently silenced right before Sean planned to talk to him.”
“There’s a lot of that going on.” Eric slid a glance Christina’s way. “Okay, I’m not signing anything. Where’s the evidence?”
Marie pulled up a database on her computer and jotted down a set of numbers on a slip of paper.
As Eric reached for the paper, she snatched it out of his fingers. “Get rid of this once you locate the boxes.”
“I’ll swallow it.” He drew a cross over his heart.
She snorted and buzzed them into the cage.
Marie had given them the general direction of the case number, and Christina followed Eric as he plowed through the rows of shelves, stacked with boxes.
He trailed his hand across one row, murmuring numbers, and then stopped and dropped to his haunches. “It’s down here.”
Christina rolled a stool on wheels next to Eric’s crouching form and sat on it. “How much do they keep down here?”
“They keep the case file and some bits of evidence. One of these days, someone’s going to transfer all the old stuff to computer, but until they do,” he said, dragging a box from the bottom shelf, “it’s all right here.”
