AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s why this case needs solving, though,” Lucien insisted, getting to his feet. “We’ve got to find out what happened to Trey and Elliott. We can’t let this go without knowing what happened that morning.”
They left the station with the weight of that statement hanging over their heads. On the short drive home, it was several long minutes before Brogan spoke. She twisted in the passenger seat and angled toward Lucien. “Is it arrogance in us that thinks we can solve this after so many years when the experts couldn’t?”
“As I see it, we don’t have a choice. I’m not sure I can face the Reschers again without telling them what happened to their son. If that means we need to spend months tracking down Deming or shoving Pollock into the spotlight, then so be it. We’re not giving up.”
13
With renewed urgency, they spent the rest of their Saturday spread out on the dining room table, flipping through Brent’s binder. They discovered two dozen more crime scene photos not found in Pollock’s box.
Brogan slid several photographs out of their protective plastic sleeves before holding one up to the sunlight streaming through the window. “This one shows a new angle of the bedroom, an interior shot from the other side of the room.” She squinted at the bedside table, staring at it for a long minute. “Lucien, you can see a closeup of Anna’s side of the bed. Look at the nightstand. Tell me what you see.”
“That looks like a cell phone, circa 2000, a Nokia model.” He grabbed his laptop to look up the model number. After Googling the brand, he turned the screen around for Brogan to see. “It’s a 5190 sold in North America. If she had a cell phone, how did we get the impression she didn’t own one?”
“Because there was no mention of a cell phone in the box Pollock gave us, no mention of data, call logs, that sort of thing. I bet that was one of those things Pollock’s inside cop held back. After so many years, what are the chances we could get our hands on the data from that phone? Surely the cops got a warrant for Anna’s call logs and texts from it, right?”
“That information is probably sitting in an evidence box somewhere. Brent’s our best shot at locating it. He might be the only one we know with an advantage. Maybe he could use his source still inside the department to get the data. I’ll text him.”
Brogan’s curiosity level was at an all-time high. “Let’s see what else we can uncover,” she mumbled to herself as she picked up another photo showing the living room and studied it through a magnifying glass.
While Lucien went back and forth with texts to Brent, she continued to examine each photo in hopes that something would jump out at her. Nothing did. Frustration and disappointment settled over her.
“Brent says he’s not sure his source will be able to get his hands on the cell phone data. I told him we’ve somehow got to copy it or at least see who Anna communicated with the last twenty-four hours of her life.”
“And?”
“Brent says he’ll try. It’s a tough spot. He doesn’t want to jeopardize his relationship with a source.”
“But if it means solving this case—”
He held up his phone. “I already went down that road. We need to move on with what we have. Did you pick up anything else in the photographs? Great catch, by the way, with the cell phone.”
“Thanks. But there’s nothing.” To prove it, she slid an image of the kitchen and the backdoor across to Lucien. “The killer must’ve come in around the back of the house. But there’s no indication of it. The back of the house is so much more secluded than the front. But as you can see, the door’s locked. The chain is still attached to the doorframe.”
“What about the front door?”
She slapped the photos down on the table like a deck of cards. “In every one of these pictures, the front door is standing wide open. That’s how Elliott managed to escape. After the killer left to grab the toddler, he didn’t bother going back to close the door.”
“Here’s an idea. What if Mack or Anna forgot to lock the front door?”
“On purpose?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re suggesting that one of them knew the killer was out there and helped?” Brogan plopped into a chair. She pushed her hair out of her face. “The idea of that makes me sick to my stomach. But it might explain a few things. That person is Anna, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. Maybe Mack got fed up with Anna’s affairs and decided to get back at her once and for all. Let’s face it, after what we know, either party could’ve prearranged the murder.”
“But things got out of hand. Maybe Anna or Mack recognized the shooter, and that one split second of recognition caused the killer to panic at the last minute.”
“No. That can’t be,” Lucien muttered. “I don’t accept that version.”
“It’s your version,” Brogan charged.
“Yeah, but I was trying to come up with how the killer got into the house. Thinking Anna or Mack turned on each other at some point and left the door unlocked seems the easy way out. Just like Rivkin did with Trey. No, somebody else had to want Elliott bad enough to kill. Who was that someone?”
“Let’s keep digging,” Brogan suggested, turning to the binder.
They took turns reviewing Brent’s notes, including his interviews with Mack’s son Hudson and the Montgomery family in New York. It all seemed to check out.
