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"Morning, Connor." She was used to the curious glances from cops who didn't know her.
"Cami Lark," Connor introduced her briefly, handing her the relevant PPE so that she wouldn't contaminate the scene.
"There's a lack of trace evidence so far," the forensic tech admitted. "We've checked the house once. No sign of any forced entry. But there are some weird, inexplicable issues."
"Such as?"
"When the husband got back, he told us there was a half-cooked dinner on the stove. The plate had been turned off."
"Turned off?"
"Yes. It's still there. We asked him about it, but he didn't know a thing about it and was totally confused by it. Apparently, Mrs. Williams was not a lover of cooking."
Connor frowned, and Cami could instantly see that his mind was veering in the direction of the human element—a lover, a friend. Someone who might have prepared a meal or for whom she might have felt inspired to cook.
But she was more interested in the fact that there was a home alarm system in place. She could see internal sensors, a keypad, and infrared lights in place.
"Was the alarm armed?"
"The front door was unlocked, and the alarm was disarmed when he arrived home."
Cami moved through the lower half of the house, observing, taking in the details, knowing in her limited but intensive experience that sometimes it was the smallest details that could lead to the biggest insights.
There were a few gadgets: a big flatscreen TV, a surround-sound system, and a few expensive looking kitchen appliances and ornaments. But apart from the alarm system, it was not a particularly smart home. No cameras. No central system to operate the coffee machine, the stove, and the bathtub. This wasn't wired for convenience.
There was the meal that the cop had mentioned, now cold and congealed on the stove. That was inexplicable for sure, but since it had happened, it was just a case of looking for the explanation, Cami reminded herself.
Another forensic tech was photographing the scene in the kitchen and dusting for prints there.
“Let’s go and speak to the husband,” Connor said.
Being careful not to leave any trace herself and with the head covering feeling crinkly and restrictive, she paced behind Connor, heading for the stairs.
She could already hear men's voices from the floor above. One voice was anguished. The other was steady and calming.
When she reached the top, she saw that Mr. Williams was seated in a small living room just off the landing on a couch, with a cop on the chair opposite. The heavyset cop, with an expression of relief in his eyes, stood up when they arrived.
"FBI," Connor said briefly. "We'd like to ask Mr. Williams some questions if that's possible?"
Cami saw the firm, yet sympathetic, way that Connor glanced at the bereaved husband. She felt a jolt of compassion for the man. He looked anguished. He was about forty, she guessed, with hair that was thinning and unkempt, pale blue eyes, and a lean face that would have looked sharply intelligent in better times. Now, though, he looked overwhelmed by shock and grief.
The cop got up, and Connor sat down. That left a padded stool as the only other place for Cami to sit, seeing it seemed like an invasion to share the couch with this traumatized man. She perched on the stool, feeling that this interview was Connor's area of expertise, but that she must be alert and ready to look for anything where IT expertise could take the case forward.
"Our condolences," Connor said. "I'm Special Agent Connor. Are you able to answer a few questions?"
"Sure. I'll try," the husband replied in halting tones.
"Tell me about your movements in the past twenty-four hours," he invited him.
"I was away on a business trip. I was in Dallas. I wanted to get back last night, but it didn't work out that way. I missed my flight, and when I called her to tell her, she didn't answer."
He placed his face briefly in his hands before continuing.
"We've been away a lot—we were on vacation three weeks ago, and Shiree was also away since then for work. I know there were a lot of chores I hadn't done, a lot of things around the home that she kept reminding me about. She actually threatened that maybe the marriage wasn’t working, and it was time for us to split up. I felt bad, neglectful. And when she didn't pick up, I was worried. I didn't know if she was mad at me or if something had happened."
That was interesting to Cami. So Shiree had been the one discontented with the marriage and researching divorce options. But although Mr. Williams had known she was unhappy, he’d been feeling guilty and trying to fix things.
"So, you came back this morning?"
