Page 25 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)

The following morning, Natalie climbed into Michael’s car, which was parked behind the lab. They’d both shown up for work but had kept their distance. She didn’t know if she could look at him in public after what had happened the night before—and and not because of the shooting.

She’d rewound their encounter so many times last night, she’d had trouble sleeping.

After Reynolds left and they’d had their giggling fit, they’d kept it all business, discussing the plan forward today.

Then he’d given her a chaste kiss, gotten in his car and followed her back to the hotel…

but not to continue what they’d started in the car.

He just wanted to make sure she got back safely, which was almost as sexy as the sex.

She smoothed her wool skirt against her thighs and pulled the shoulder strap across her body. “I hope Reynolds isn’t at the station.”

“You said you didn’t think he recognized you.” Michael started the engine and pulled out of the lab parking lot.

“I don’t think he did, but in the light of day with me standing right in front of him instead of cowering in a car, he just might.”

He snorted. “Didn’t look like you were cowering to me. Are you ready for this?” He squeezed her knee right above her black boots. “Are you ready for the derision and disbelief as we lay out this story?”

“I’m ready if you are.” She flipped down the visor and touched up her lipstick in the mirror. “Did you take care of the bullet fragments?”

“I put a rush on it. My friend at the Seattle lab owes me, so he’ll keep quiet about it. We do each other favors sometimes.”

She covered her ears. “I didn’t hear that. It’s exactly the type of thing we’re supposed to uncover.”

“You’re the one who wanted to keep the shooting quiet. I’m just helping you out.”

“And I appreciate it. Does your contact in Seattle think he can trace the bullet, even though it’s in pieces?”

“He’s done more with less. If he can detect the striations on the bullet and if anything matches in the database, we can trace it. Without bullets from the same gun or the firearm itself, we’re out of luck.” Michael brushed his knuckle across her cheek. “Any regrets about last night?”

Her skin prickled. “Besides getting shot at? No, it was great.”

Chuckling, he pinched her chin. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“The only regret I have—” she caught his hand and kissed the inside of his wrist “—is that we got interrupted. You?”

“Only that such a momentous event took place in a car. You deserve scented bath water and rose petals and champagne.” He made a flourish with his hand.

“All that’s nice, but doing it in a car is kinda hot.”

And talking about it was even hotter. She changed the subject. “You know, I noticed something last night while I was on the slide that slipped my mind after…everything else.”

“What was it?”

“Katie and I had scratched our names into the metal on the inside of the slide’s canopy.

Our names were still there, but someone had scratched out Katie’s name.

When I ran my fingers across the etching of her name, paint flakes came loose.

It was as if someone had just scratched out the name recently.

Do you think someone was on that platform before I came?

Maybe he was waiting for me there first.”

“If so, I’m glad he left. He would’ve had a clear shot at you walking up the ladder. That covering saved your life.”

She’d thought the same thing. Actually, she’d thought it was Katie looking out for her, but she didn’t want to admit that—not even to Michael.

Michael pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s station, and the knots in Natalie’s stomach tightened.

Nothing much had changed about the building since she’d walked through those doors as a teenager with her parents, their faces stoic.

She never would’ve believed she’d be back here as an adult, still with no answers about what happened to Katie that night.

Michael cupped her elbow up as they walked to the front doors, and then dropped it as he ushered her inside, ahead of him.

The deputy at the front desk greeted Michael, said hello to Natalie and then buzzed Detective Ibarra.

Detective Ibarra came out with a swagger to his walk and crinkles around his warm, dark eyes. If he’d been investigating Katie’s murder, Natalie would’ve spilled her guts to him.

“Michael, good to see you again.” The men shook hands, and then Ibarra turned his attention to her. “Michael doesn’t even need to introduce you. Even if it weren’t for the town buzz, I’d have you pegged.”

Natalie’s eyes widened, and she held her breath.

“Special Agent Natalie Brunetti, the Fed who came to town to straighten us out.” Ibarra’s broad grin took the irony out of his words, and his warm grasp put a nail in it.

“A bit of an exaggeration, Detective Ibarra, but I’ll do my best to clarify some of the evidence in those old cases.” She squeezed the large hand that engulfed hers.

He tilted his head. “But you two aren’t here about an old case, are you?”

Michael answered. “Yes and no.”

Ibarra invited them to his office in the back, and they settled in two comfortable chairs across from his desk. At least he hadn’t put them in an interrogation room.

Ibarra flattened his tie against his shirt and folded his hands on his stomach. “What news do you have for me, Michael?”

“The dog came back home last night.”

The pleasant smile on Ibarra’s face dropped, and he hunched forward. “The dog that was with your wife when she was murdered?”

“That’s right. She wandered into the backyard last night, a little worse for wear, but healthy.”

“My God. If dogs could talk, huh? I’m assuming the dog didn’t have any evidence on her—bloodstains, fibers, hair? After six months, that would’ve all washed away.

“There was evidence, Gil, just not the evidence you’d expect.” Michael reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Alma’s bracelet, which he’d placed in a plastic bag. “This jewelry was wrapped around her collar.”

Ibarra held out his hand. “Was it Raine’s?”

Pulling out her phone, Natalie said, “No. We believe the bracelet belonged to a young murder victim from twelve years ago—Alma Nguyen, and I have Mrs. Nguyen’s verification.”

“What are you saying?” Ibarra brought the baggie close to his face, studying the bracelet within. “Alma’s killer stole her bracelet and had it with him when he murdered Raine twelve years later?”

“And it’s not the first time he’s done it, Gil.” Michael launched into everything they’d discovered and suspected about the jewelry of the dead women, giving Natalie ample opportunity to contribute, even though she still kept her true identity a secret.

When they’d finished, Ibarra didn’t throw them out of his office, which was the good news. The bad? He narrowed his eyes, all warmth vanquished, replaced by cold, hard suspicion. The look he must get when listening to a suspect lying, knowing he has the receipts.

“First—” Ibarra held up one finger, nail bitten down to the quick “—why did a serial killer come out of retirement after twelve years to murder a woman a good ten years’ senior to his usual victims?”

Michael interrupted. “Can I answer that before you get to number two?”

“Go ahead.” Ibarra sounded bored, as if he knew what was coming.

“The killer could’ve been in prison, in a different area, been in different social circumstances like a marriage and children. As far as the age, this guy doesn’t have a clear MO except for the jewelry. That’s what links the victims.”

“Michael—” Ibarra chewed on his lip “—if this guy killed Sierra and Alma and maybe Katie, his MO is victims in their late teens and early twenties. That’s probably not gonna change for him.

Was Raine a victim of opportunity for someone out of practice?

Maybe. But you don’t even have the jewelry part nailed down.

An unfamiliar pendant was found with Sierra’s body, but there’s no way of knowing if that pendant belonged to Katie Fellows. ”

Natalie kept her eyes on Ibarra as she felt Michael’s gaze hot on her cheek.

Ibarra sat forward in his chair, warming to his subject.

“Sierra may or may not have been missing one of her many bangles. One of those bangles may have been on Alma’s wrist, but we don’t have a clear picture of it, and it’s not listed in evidence.

That’s something for Agent Brunetti to expose in her report, I’m sure.

That’s sloppy police work. Sloppy forensics. ”

Natalie hit the desk with the flat of her hand, making both men jump. “And Alma’s bracelet on Peaches?”

Picking up the corner of the baggie containing the bracelet and swinging it from his fingertips, Ibarra said, “I’ll turn it over to the forensics lab in Seattle.

They’ll test it for blood, prints, DNA, the works.

Of course, it’s important, but is it Alma Nguyen’s?

You have a grieving mother ID’ing it from a texted picture on your phone twelve years after the fact. ”

“You’re not going to reopen these cases or entertain the idea that Raine could’ve been the victim of a long-acting serial killer?” Michael slumped in his chair.

“I’m going to let Agent Brunetti do her job and let the chips fall where they may, even if it makes this department, and your lab, look bad.

I’ll support her in any way I can.” He dropped the bracelet.

“I’m also going to send someone out from Seattle to check on…

Peaches, just in case, and as far as I’m concerned Michael, your alibi stands, and you’re in no way a suspect in your wife’s homicide. ”

Michael stood up abruptly. “You have to admit, Gil, the connections are interesting.”

“If we had all the proof, I’d agree. These are cold cases. They’re not closed. Maybe one day the proof will materialize.”

As Michael held out his hand to Ibarra, he kicked the leg of Natalie’s chair, and she jumped up. “Thanks for your time. Let me know when you want to examine the dog.”