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“Since you’re asking, one of their waitresses slipped me a note as we were leaving asking to meet today.”
“Interesting. Keep me in the loop.”
“Will do.” Jo hung up and grabbed the new coffee. “Thank you for this.”
“Up bright and early, I see,” Arnett said. “I’m starting to think it’s a ploy to make me buy the coffee.”
She laughed, then caught him up on what she’d found. “Next up is Travis Hartley.”
“I checked in with Rankin on the way over. Several people came forward claiming to have seen Madison. Several were one hundred percent certain they saw her Sunday morning, well after we know she was already dead.”
Jo nodded. That was common—memories were notoriously faulty and easy to influence, and when people were trying to help, times and exact details shifted and shimmered. “I’m sure there were plenty of cute, brown-haired girls walking their dogs at Crone Ridge all weekend. Differentiating the right one in people’s memories will be tough.”
“At least now we know what she was wearing. That’ll eliminate most false alarms.”
Jo’s phone pinged. “Marzillo wants to update us in the lab.”
They grabbed their coffees and headed in. Marzillo looked predictably tired, with shadows under her dark eyes and curls peeping out of her bun.
“How late were you out there last night?” Jo asked.
“Close to midnight. Not a big deal, because Zelda’s away and I hate being alone in the house anyway.” She wiped her wrist against her forehead, careful to swipe above the nitrile glove on her hand. “Funny, isn’t it? When you first start sharing a bed, it’s hard to sleep with their movements and sounds. Then, after you’ve been together awhile, it’s hard to sleep without the movements and sounds.”
Jo smiled. “Humans are complicated, aren’t we?”
“Preach,” Lopez said, stepping through the doorway behind them. “Especially when it comes to relationships. Did I miss anything?”
“Just getting started,” Marzillo said. “The ME confirmed what I assumed. Cause of death was the slash to the throat; the knife to the abdomen came after. As suspected, the substance used to write on her is blood, same type as Madison’s. We’ve sent it out for DNA testing. No other wounds, defensive or otherwise, and no sexual assault. Tox screen is in the works, as is a DNA sample from the baby.”
“Kiernan Wendiss gave us a sample this morning,” Lopez injected.
“Oh, good, he showed up,” Jo said.
Lopez leaned onto a desk. “Oh, yeah. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, waiting in the lobby when I got here. Couldn’t give the sample fast enough.”
Arnett’s brows popped. “Either he’s innocent or he’s got some sort of God complex.”
“Both equally likely,” Lopez said. “He seemed like a good kid, but those are often the ones you gotta watch out for.”
Marzillo continued. “Next up is the clothing. No blood or other obvious fluids on them. Dirt from the park, and dog hair that matches Ginger’s. We’re in the process of testing for touch DNA on the clothes, the phone, and the keys, but since our killer wore gloves, it’s not likely anything transferred.”
“Hope springs eternal,” Jo said.
“On to the rest of the scene. The candles and the knife are both sold widely, same with the plastic baby she was holding. Both Party City and Amazon sell the exact model.”
“I made a few quick calls,” Lopez said. “Tracking the candles and the knife will be nearly pointless, but I have the managers of all Massachusetts Party City stores compiling purchases of plastic baby figurines within the last year. Apparently they fly off the shelves in February, but not this time of year, so maybe we’ll get lucky. I’m in negotiations with Amazon to see if we can track down any recent purchases sent to this area.”
“Either way, it’s a long shot,” Arnett said.
Lopez nodded. “I finished scouring Madison’s accounts. Nothing other than the strip club turned up, although there was a decided shift in her social media usage about six months ago—next to nothing since she took the job at the strip club.”
“Keeping a low profile,” Jo said.
Lopez nodded. “When Wendiss stopped by to leave his DNA sample, he also gave us written permission to access his social media accounts, etc., so that’s my next project.”
“Thank you,” Jo said. “Can I add a few more names to the list?”
“Hit me,” Lopez said.
