AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kit had to force herself not to wince. “Yeah. I saw that.”
Navarro pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll look into it. I may not reopen until Batra knows what happened to the damn autopsy report, but I will look into it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Navarro waved at the door. “Go.”
Kit didn’t dawdle, following Baz out the door. She slumped into the chair at her desk. “That was fun.” She looked into the windows of Navarro’s office. He was still staring at his phone. “I shouldn’t feel guilty. Why am I feeling guilty?”
Baz shrugged. “I’m not. That’s why they pay him the big bucks. What first?”
“Let’s go back to Driscoll’s house and look harder for pills. On the chance that he did dose himself with sleeping pills and hang himself, he had to have gotten the pills somewhere. Our lives will be so much simpler if he had a prescription for them.”
“But there was nothing in his medicine cabinet on Saturday.”
“Not even Tylenol,” Kit murmured. “That’s also been bothering me.”
“You mean that if someone helped him into the noose, they cleaned out his medicine cabinet.”
Yes. “Maybe. We also need to find some connection between Driscoll and high school drama clubs. These young women crossed their killer’s path somewhere, and right now the drama angle is all we have. Knowing this, we can go back and talk to the victims’ families and friends. There has to be some commonality with how he lured them.”
“What about Dr.Reeves?”
Thinking about the man’s earnest green eyes, Kit shook her head. “I still don’t think he’s involved, but I’ll talk to him again.”
Baz frowned. “We’ll talk to him.”
“We can try. I think he’s going to be angry enough at us as it is. But you threatened to shoot his dog. I don’t think you’re on his favorites list.”
“I don’t care.” Baz shot her a pointed look. “You shouldn’t, either.”
“I don’t,” she insisted.
Except... she did care. A little.
Which was still too much.
Baz sighed. “Dammit, Kit.”
She didn’t want to meet his eyes. “Let’s just go.”
Mira Mesa, California
Monday, April 11, 6:30 p.m.
Kit met Baz in Colton Driscoll’s living room. “There’s nothing here.”
“I know. I mean, the normal stuff is here, but not a single personal item. No cell phone, no photos on the walls, no bills to be paid, no take-out menus or stuff in a junk drawer.”
“It’s like the house was staged by a real estate agent or something,” she murmured. She glanced up at the beam in the foyer. It was where Driscoll had looped his rope. “How did he get the rope up there? There’s no ladder in the garage and that beam’s too high for him to have reached it, even standing on the tallest chair in the house.”
“I suppose he could have tossed the rope up and over,” Baz said, but sounded doubtful. “The more we look at this place, the less likely it seems that Driscoll’s suicide was unaided.”
“I think whoever killed him wanted us to be happy that he was dead and not come back for a second look.”
“We wouldn’t have had cause to if you hadn’t thought to ask for the rapid half-life sedative check.”
Baz sounded pleased with her, and that was always an ego stroke. “It was the five victims, not six,” she said. “We didn’t know about the sixth victim until Friday evening, when Dr.Reeves called again and mentioned a lacrosse player. Whoever wrote that confession didn’t know that we knew.”
