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Beatrice confirmed it. “They’ve gone over each pixelated segment with a fine-tooth comb and shared the image with law enforcement. Unfortunately, there isn’t much we’ve been able to gather from it to give us any identification of your mugger.”
Thinking about that guy made her head hurt. “I really loved that bag,” she said, rubbing her arm absentmindedly. “I wish I could remember more to help you.”
“You will,” Beatrice assured her.
“Meanwhile, once I have you at HQ again,” Rory said, “Moe and I are hitting the streets to question as many people as we can about that night. Someone had to have seen something.”
Traffic was light and they neared the multi-story building that blended in with all the others on this block, yet contained some of the most highly-trained military specialists in the world. It also held advanced technology and security that rivaled Hannah’s. “Aren’t the police doing that?”
He snorted. “Robberies and assaults happen a dozen times a day around here. The cops are overworked and understaffed like most cities. You are already yesterday’s news and just another open case in a stack of them from this week alone.”
Disappointment sat heavy in her stomach, but she was alive and that’s what counted. She appreciated what Rory and Moe were about to do, but wished they’d leave it to the detective in charge. “So it sounds like you owe me a dinner,” she said as they drove into the underground parking garage at SFI.
His demeanor instantly changed and he gave her a questioning look, his eyes now hid by the shadows. “I do, if you’re still interested.”
She grinned. “Tonight. Eight. My place or yours?”
He returned the smile. He lived in the basement next to the computer hub. The floor also contained the infirmary, gym, and her office. “You’re the patient now. I’ll order delivery and bring it to you.”
“Good.” She nodded, feeling her earlier anxiety lessen and a grin take its place. “Don’t be late.”
FIVE
Beatrice dug the end of her Mont Blanc pen into her blotter. Twirled it around and dug it in again.
Her two visitor chairs were filled, and Connor had brought in a third, forming a semi-circle on the other side of her desk. Parker, Moe, and Vivi sat waiting for her to sort through her thoughts and start their impromptu meeting while Rory settled Amelia into her room. Cal had Sloane, their daughter. Their dog, Maddy, napped on the girl’s playmat in the far corner of the room. Maddy’s snores rumbled softly in the background, reassuring and comforting.
Beatrice tossed down the pen and started with Parker. “You’ve reviewed her medical records?”
The doctor held a tablet and scrolled through the information on it. “Jax and I have gone over everything. The strike to the back of her head could have been far more serious. She’s lucky to have walked away with only a concussion and short-term memory loss. We’ve reviewed the photos of the resulting contusion, but neither of us can draw a conclusion as to what the attacker used. The laceration was small, and like all head wounds, bled a lot, but was most likely caused from the blunt force trauma, not from a sharp edge.”
“Could it be from a rock? Something our mugger found in the alley?”
“I can’t rule that out, but a rock tends to have an irregular surface. The bruising suggests something more polished. All I know for sure at this point is that the attacker came from behind and walloped her. There are no defensive wounds because she didn’t see it coming.”
Moe tapped a thumb against his thigh, a nervous tick. “Show her what I found.”
Parker tapped the screen and turned it so Beatrice could view it. “This was in the dumpster, along with the wooden end of a hammer, a busted lamp base, and broken glass and dishes, most likely from the restaurant. The pipe most closely matches the bruise. Sabrina has it in the lab, checking for Amelia’s DNA, and our perp’s fingerprints. It’s a long shot, we know, but it’s the best we’ve got. Other possibilities could include the butt of a handgun, a baseball bat…honestly, the list goes on and on. Without more information from Amelia herself, we’re reaching.” She glanced through her notes. “From the frame we have of our mugger, he looks to be approximately five-eleven, but even that is a guess. He could have taken the weapon with him, hiding it in his coat or in the purse.”
Beatrice rocked gently in her chair, her mind working to re-create various versions of the scene with this new information. “Shooting her would’ve made too much noise, but hitting her in the back of the head was risky. The blow didn’t immediately knock her out, and she may have seen him.” It was that reason she had insisted on keeping Rory in Amelia’s hospital room and two of her best bodyguards covertly stationed outside it. If their mugger realized she’d seen his face and could identify him, he might try to finish her off.Overkill. Again.Ifit was a simple purse snatching.
In Beatrice’s world, nothing was ever simple or straightforward.
Moe lived in that same world. “Bloody coppers barely examined the alley and the dumpster.”
“You did good.” She took the tablet and used her fingers to blow up the photo of the metal pipe inside the evidence bag he’d placed it in before snapping the picture. “Approximately how long is it?”
“A third of a meter. Depending on the length of the asshole’s arm”—he extended his own, demonstrating the strike—“he could’ve hit her from a meter back.”
She did the conversion—the attacker could have struck Amelia from approximately three feet away. If he’d moved stealthily, he could have kept his presence a secret longer.
How many random muggers, coming up on a rare opportunity like this, could be so quietandhappen to have a piece of pipe on them for just such an occasion?
She didn’t need her genius brain to calculate the odds. “Let’s say he did keep that much distance between them. It would take a great deal of strength to hit her that hard with his arm fully extended.”
Moe flipped his palms up toward the ceiling. “Either that, or he moves like the wind and she didn’t hear him when he got closer.”
Vivi cleared her throat. “She might have been distracted, though. She was carrying on a text conversation with Rory, remember?”
