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“As my grandmother likes to remind me, never underestimate the power of serendipity.”
She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll have to jot that down in my book of wise sayings.”
A glint of humor sparked in his eyes as he stood. “You write down wise sayings?”
“They come in handy on days when I need inspiration or encouragement.” Enough on that subject. “Let me snap a few photos before we put the glass in an evidence bag.”
He moved aside as she took care of that chore, then followed her to her car to gather the supplies and equipment.
As she opened her trunk and began handing him items from her scene investigation stash, the subtle tension in her shoulders began to ease.
So far, Marc Davis had not only been quite agreeable but useful. Perhaps the old adage about two heads being better than one would prove true on this case.
Which could be helpful.
Because the agent standing a few inches away had already demonstrated he had a keen eye by spotting that piece of glass. The small fragment might or might not end up being relevant, but the fact he’d noticed it suggested few details got past him ... as did a number of his other perceptive observations during their walk-through.
And if this fire did indeed turn out to be a crime, the smallest details mattered.
So hopefully, between the two of them, no piece of evidence that could bring an arsonist to justice—if this was arson—would escape their notice.
BRI HAD ALIMP.
Juggling the boxes and equipment he was toting, Marc appraised her as she took the lead back to the house. Whileher slightly uneven gait didn’t call a great deal of attention to itself, it was definitive.
Did it reflect a recent injury that would heal, or was it permanent?
One more intriguing piece of her puzzle.
If the opportunity arose, why not see if he could fit a few of those pieces together before the end of the day?
Back inside, the nitty-gritty work began as they sifted and raked through the rubble in search of answers. Knowing where the blaze had begun allowed them to concentrate their efforts around the easy chair, and one by one pieces of evidence emerged.
A melted disk that could once have been a waste can. Shards of glass that might be the remnants of a tumbler and liquor bottle, based on their shape. A ceramic curtain rod above the window, the few strips of burnt fabric clinging to it indicating it had once held draperies.
“Was the victim a smoker?” Marc inspected a blackened metal lighter he’d excavated from the wreckage.
“I don’t know.” Bri flipped up the remains of a rug in front of the chair, revealing a char pattern on the floor underneath that should be sampled and analyzed.
“Drinker?”
“No idea.” She folded the rug back, leaving the floor exposed, and faced him. “The tox screen will be helpful.”
Same conclusion he’d come to, meaning they were tracking the same direction. Booze and smoking were a dangerous combination, and the fact the victim hadn’t tried to escape suggested alcohol could have played a role in his death.
They continued to poke around the room for another hour, their exchanges sparse and confined to business. After she rebuffed several of his attempts to make small talk, he gave up. So much for finding—or creating—an opportunity to learn more about her. It was obvious the fire investigator he’d beenpaired with had no interest in conversation. With him, at least.
By late morning, they went their separate ways at the scene, doing a second pass inside and out to ensure they hadn’t missed anything that could be relevant to the fire.
But as far as he could see, they’d found the single point of origin, and nothing else was amiss.
When one o’clock came and went with no indication from his reluctant partner that she had any intention of stopping for lunch, he went in search of her.
He found her back in the room where the victim had died, brow furrowed, hands on her hips as she gave the space a once-over.
“You turn up anything else?” She swiveled toward him as he entered.
“No. You?”
