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“To talk.” He rubbed his face, too tired to carry on with the hundred and one questions, even when he knew that she was there for a reason, and one she could have probably used the phone for.
“Do you have anything for me, Amber?”
She watched him before nodding. “Yes. When we uncovered the breast implants, only a partial serial number remained on them.” She smiled. “But, when I gave them a name, that name matched the partial...Jocelyn Peterson had breast implants just over seven years ago.”
“I hate being right,” Coulter grumbled. “But at least I know who didn’t do it.”
Amber frowned. “Right, Quinten was already in Harlington.”
He nodded. “Jocelyn lied through her teeth once Quinten had been arrested. Nothing that could be proved, outside of the fact that there’d been no official police reports of domestic violence, or disturbances—I had a gut feeling. She wanted to be the wounded party and she wanted people to feel sorry for her. She made some money off of the injured victim act when she charged for interviews. According to her, she’d been married to a murderer.” Coulter offered Amber an exhausted smile. “But the media grew tired of her and no one felt sorry for her. She was accused of knowing and keeping silent about Quinten by the press. As soon as the trial ended, she high tailed it out of town...This is the first I’ve heard of her since then.”
“I’m still waiting for some test results to come back, but I’m guessing tha
t she’s been dead for nearly as long, around seven years.”
“I give.” He smiled, knowing that she was itching to give him a bit of a science lesson, one he probably knew already, but he loved watching Amber become animated.
“When a body is buried in the ground, and left, once it starts decomposing the chemistry of the soil changes significantly, which means—”
“You’ll be able to match up the year of death by how much the soil has changed.”
“You got it in one, Detective.” Amber grinned, and it was only when his captain cleared his throat beside his desk that he realized he was grinning just as wide back.
Between a half cough and half laugh, he managed to wipe whatever his boss thought he saw from his face. He was too old for that crap anyway, which he needed to be reminded of often when Amber was around.
She was a breath of fresh air to his old ass—mid-thirties to his late forties.
“You have an appointment at the prison this afternoon,” his Captain stated. “Tell him about Jocelyn and when you’re done, question the brother next.”
Already planned.
“That’s on the agenda,” he replied, only just stopping himself from asking if there was anything else.
“You’ve got a couple of hours until the interview so I suggest you make a move.” The man glanced at Amber and then him.
“I’ll go back to the morgue.” Amber glared at the captain, not giving a shit, and why should she when he wasn’t her direct boss.
“Call me if you discover anything else,” he requested to Amber’s retreating back.
“I will.”
Once Amber left, he noticed his Captain stood gazing after her. “Easy on the eyes.”
Coulter slammed his hand down on the desk in anger at his captain’s words. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he left.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t be around for a while longer now that he had to interview the people from Jocelyn’s life. Those interviews would happen a few hours away from Tampa, in Port Jude and Harlington.
His gut told him that her death had everything to do with her ex-husband and his trial, but what? The timing was too much of a coincidence for him to not look back at the original players.
He shoved the key into the ignition of his truck, gave it a turn and all it did was choke. He tried again, and nothing. About to try once more, he caught his captain waving to him from the door.
“What does he want now,” Coulter grumbled, but climbed out of his truck anyway, slamming the door behind him.
He jogged back to the station door, and was just about to question the hold up, when a loud explosion shook the ground.
Coulter grabbed the handrail on the wall lining the steps to stay on his feet. Turning, the shock of seeing his truck completely engulfed in flames made him stop dead as his pulse raced and the reality of what had happened started to sink in.
