Page 7 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)

She patted his face and then repeated the same set of kisses, landing the final one on his nose. Their ritual melted his heart every time.

“Auntie Molly cooked us dinner. Spaghetti.” He tucked her under one arm and spun around to the changing table, which she’d outgrown. “But first we’ll get another pull-up.”

Her lower lip jutted forward. “Unnywear, Daddy.”

“That’s right, underwear.” Molly had started reintroducing the language for potty training, and Ivy seemed receptive. Maybe they’d have another go at it.

Once he had a clean pull-up in place for Ivy, he took her to the sink, and she climbed up on her step stool to wash her hands.

As she rubbed her hands under the faucet, he asked, “What happened when you went on the swings at the park today? What kinds of pictures did you paint with Auntie Molly?”

Raine’s disappearance had caused Ivy’s language to lag, and Michael had consulted with his psychologist friend for tips on getting her to talk more. He tried to follow through on her suggestion to ask Ivy specific questions instead of open-ended ones. It seemed to work.

Tonight, Ivy babbled on about flying on the swing, and how Molly had twisted up the chains and then released them until Ivy spun around. She was still talking about the dog she painted when they made it to the kitchen just as Molly was taking the bread out of the oven.

When Molly closed the oven door, Michael set Ivy on the floor. “Get your plate and cup from Auntie Molly and set your place at the table.”

Ivy scampered to Molly and took the brightly colored plastic, partitioned plate and cup from her. On the way to the table, she poked at a picture hanging on the fridge. “Here, Daddy. Peaches.”

Michael’s chest tightened as he glanced at the scribbles on the page, barely making out a pair of ears, a nose and four stick legs. Ivy still remembered the dog. “That’s a nice picture of Peaches, sweetie.”

“Mama take Peaches.” Ivy put her plate and cup on the table and climbed into her booster seat.

Their dog, Peaches, had disappeared at the same time as Raine.

The babysitter had reported that Raine had taken Peaches for a walk after visiting Ivy.

He’d thought it cruel of her at the time to take the dog and not return her, but when those hikers discovered Raine’s body on the trail, Peaches was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t seen the dog since.

Raine had been visiting Ivy that night while he’d been at work.

Natasha, Ivy’s babysitter, had called him as soon as Raine showed up at the house, but he didn’t think there would be any harm in Raine visiting her daughter for a few hours.

When she left with Peaches, Raine had told Natasha she was taking her for a walk and would bring her back before Michael got home.

Natasha had freaked out when Raine turned up dead. He never did figure out if Natasha believed him guilty of the murder, but she couldn’t work in the house anymore. So Ivy lost her mother, her babysitter and the dog all at once.

Ivy had talked about the dog when she first disappeared but hadn’t mentioned Peaches in a while. He didn’t know if this was a good sign or more regression. He’d ask the shrink.

Ivy’s chatter at the dinner table was a good sign, though. And as Molly and Ivy had a spaghetti-slurping contest, he laughed so hard, things almost felt normal again.

When he tried to help his sister clean up the kitchen, she shooed him away to play with Ivy. By the time he’d colored some mermaids, built a castle with blocks, knocked it down and read a few stories, Ivy was ready for bed.

After tucking her in, he tapped on Molly’s door. “You still awake?”

“C’mon in. I’m just sprucing up my profile for this dating app.”

He groaned as he pushed open the door. “I don’t get how you think those dating sites work.”

“They work.” She glanced up from her phone. “You should try it sometime. I’ll help you with a profile, if you think you have any pictures where you’re not scowling or brooding.”

“No, thanks.” Did Natalie think he was a scowler and a brooder. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you again for looking after Ivy. She seems…better.”

“She’s a little firecracker. I think she’s starting to spark again.”

He chewed his bottom lip. “Did she draw a picture of Peaches on her own, or did you ask her to do it?”

She shook her head, and her black bangs fell over her eyes. “I didn’t mention Peaches, and when she drew the dog, she didn’t tell me that was Peaches. In the kitchen was the first time I heard the name from her.”

“Maybe it just occurred to her when she saw the picture on the fridge. Just triggered the memory of the dog.”

“They never found the dog’s leash or collar or…anything?” Molly tossed her phone on the bed and folded her hands in her lap.

“You mean like a dead dog in the woods?” He scratched his chin. He didn’t want to tell his sister the number of times he’d been out on that trail calling Peaches’s name. “Nothing, not even bones that might be hers.”

Hunching her shoulders, she said, “Peaches could be a witness to murder.”

“It’s not like she could point out anyone in a lineup.”

“Dogs are pretty smart.” She tapped her head with her finger.

“You didn’t know Peaches.” He smacked the doorjamb. “I’m going to do some work. Thanks for dinner and cleaning up—and be careful on those dating apps.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Bye. Mind your own business.”

He closed her door and sank into his recliner, pulling his computer onto his lap.

He flipped it open and drummed his thumbs on the keyboard.

He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, or even how to start, but something in Natalie Brunetti’s demeanor had set off alarm bells in his brain…

and he didn’t mean the way his body reacted to her.

That feeling originated somewhere far south of his brain.

Sometimes her smile looked fake to him. It could just come down to an auditor trying to get on the right side of the objects of her investigation.

Then there was the whole bizarre reaction to the fire drill this afternoon.

She’d been digging for something. And what the hell had she been doing on Devil’s Edge Trail last night?

It’s not a trail any stranger would just stumble on.

He launched a search engine and entered her name. A few Natalie Brunettis popped up, and he clicked on their social-media profiles. None was for his Natalie, but then, FBI agents didn’t typically splash their lives in pictures across the internet.

He dug a little deeper. Maybe she’d received some awards from the FBI. Maybe she’d been a featured speaker at a conference. Maybe she’d worked a big case that had grabbed headlines. His Natalie remained elusive.

Michael balanced the laptop on the arm of the chair and went back into the kitchen.

Molly had left a plate in the sink, so he rinsed off the breadcrumbs and opened the dishwasher.

He rolled his eyes at the helter-skelter way his sister had loaded the dishwasher, but he’d never complain about her haphazard ways again.

She was helping him bring his little girl back.

Molly had left a half a bottle of red wine on the counter, its cork shoved in the top. He’d asked his sister to avoid drinking alcohol around Ivy, and he followed his own rule. His daughter had seen enough of that in her short life.

But with Ivy sound asleep, Molly must’ve grabbed the opportunity to down a couple of glasses, by the looks of it, and he’d do the same. He snagged a wineglass from the top shelf of the cupboard and poured himself a healthy quantity.

He took a sip and carried the glass back to the living room. Seated once again with the computer in his lap, he ran over that first meeting with Natalie in the woods. Had he really imagined she’d said those words to him? Called him a killer?

Something about that trail had drawn Natalie into the woods after dark, and he knew it hadn’t been one of the cold cases. He’d reviewed those cases before she arrived. Devil’s Edge hadn’t been host to one of those crime scenes…just his wife’s.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and then he attacked it, searching for Devil’s Edge Trail in Marysville, Washington.

He physically shuddered when the first item on the page recounted Raine’s murder.

He skimmed past several more articles about her homicide until he reached the more benign links discussing the route of the trail and its flora and fauna.

Frustrated, he took a big gulp of wine. Was Natalie out here trying to tie him to his wife’s murder? Why would she waste her time? He’d been officially cleared.

He set down his glass on the end table beside him and rubbed his hands together. He flexed his fingers and came at his search from a slightly different angle. This time he searched for crimes and Devil’s Edge Trail.

Of course, he had to slog through Raine’s murder again, but on the next screen he stopped scrolling at a headline that mentioned the disappearance of a teen from Devil’s Edge fourteen years earlier.

Unlike Raine, this girl’s body had never been found, and law enforcement at the time had eventually dismissed the girl, Katie Fellows, as a runaway, despite her friend’s insistence that the two of them had been stalked through the woods by a strange man.

He did another search, for Katie Fellows this time, and clicked on an article that had been published at the time of her disappearance. As he read through the article, which contained a few pictures of the girls, he stumbled across the name of Katie’s friend—Nat Cooper. Nat .

He tapped one of the photos of the accompanying article and enlarged it with his fingers, zeroing in on the face of Nat Cooper, her curly dark hair and big eyes giving him a jolt.

He fell back against the recliner and took another slug of wine. Nat Brunetti hadn’t taken a wrong turn last night. She hadn’t been trying to catch him in the act.

Nat Brunetti had her own reasons for returning to Marysville…and she didn’t want anyone to know about them.