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Lia hesitated, her instinctive need to be in charge vying with the acceptance that Kaden would insist on taking his vehicle. He not only had his own control issues but he was a professional driver. Being a passenger was clearly painful for him.
Climbing into the Jeep, Lia pulled on her seat belt and glanced toward Kaden’s profile.
“Why do you want to go to the meatpacking plant?”
Kaden turned out of the alley. “Yesterday I tried to drive behind the plant, but the owner recently hired a guard to keep people from using the road. I want to know what he’s hiding. And whether it’s connected to his business or the local reservoir.”
Ryan Burke had hired a guard? Lia frowned. The man was notoriously cheap. What could be so important that he was willing to pay an extra salary?
“Okay.”
Chapter 13
Kaden managed to reach the one-way street leading to Judge Armstrong’s house without needing directions. He had the overall layout of Pike memorized, although it was like a lot of small towns: a maze of narrow lanes that often led to dead ends.
Pulling into the driveway, he left the engine running as he glanced around. He was prepared for a quick getaway if necessary.
“No one’s here.” Lia pushed open the door of the Jeep and hopped out.
Kaden quickly joined her, staring into the empty space. Someone had removed the car, revealing the gaping hole in the back wall. He stepped forward, catching sight of the snow that had swirled into the once immaculate garage, adding to the sense of chaos.
“They left it open.” He released a sound of sheer disgust, his hands on his hips. “Sloppy. They should have at least tried to cover the hole in the back with plyboard and shut the garage door. Even if it wasn’t a crime scene, someone could easily break into the house.”
He nodded toward the flimsy door that connected the garage with the interior of the main house. One strong kick and he could bust the thing open.
“Maybe that’s what the killer wants.”
Kaden nodded. “You have a point. The more people tromping around the area, the less likely they’ll be caught. And even if a miracle occurred and someone did decide to investigate the judge’s accident, nothing could be used in a trial. Not after being left abandoned for anyone to stroll by and contaminate the crime scene.”
Lia squared her shoulders, as if gathering her courage. “Let’s take a look.”
“Careful, I’m not sure how much structural damage was done,” Kaden warned as she headed into the garage.
She nodded, but her expression was distracted as she halted and bent down to study a large stain on the cement.
“This looks like blood.”
Kaden joined her, gazing down at the dark spot that was starting to flake. He wasn’t an expert, but if he had to guess, he would say Lia was right. It did look like a pool of blood that had dried and frozen to the cement.
“Yes.” He stepped back, judging the distance from the entrance to the garage. He wasn’t an expert on blood, but he was an expert on cars.
“If the judge pulled into the garage, this would be the general spot he would be getting out of the car.”
Lia straightened. “Only he was attacked.”
“And probably shoved back into the car before it was smashed into the back wall.” He glanced around the large space. “You look for a potential weapon and I’ll see if I can find something that could have been used to wedge the gas pedal.”
She headed across the garage as he searched closer to the attached house. It quickly became obvious that the judge hadn’t been a man who worked on his own vehicles. Or even his house. There were no shelves, no toolboxes, no metal cabinets to hold the typical junk people collected over the years.
“I don’t see anything obvious.” Lia crossed back to stand next to him. “Honestly, there’s nothing out here.”
“Which means they probably brought their own weapon.”
Lia grimaced. “Premeditated.”
“Yeah, whoever was waiting in the garage didn’t come here to talk. They came here to kill.” Kaden was turning in a slow circle, his gaze sweeping over the shadowed corners until he spotted something beside the screen door that opened onto the back patio. He noticed it because it should have been hidden beneath the shattered debris that littered the floor in that area. Instead, it was lying on top of the busted drywall. As if someone had tossed it there. He walked forward, glancing up at the ceiling to make sure it wasn’t about to collapse on his head.
Once he reached the object, he bent down to pick it up. He didn’t bother to be careful about preserving fingerprints or DNA. There were a dozen people tromping through here yesterday. Anyone might have touched it.
