Page 8 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)

Dishes clattered next to her, as the busboy cleared the table and collected the tip.

Natalie hunched over her coffee and massaged her temple.

The nightmare had hit her hard last night, and her head throbbed this morning.

Instead of settling her terrors from fourteen years ago, her proximity to the scene of the crime had stoked them.

And now, someone had her files. There must be cameras in the building. If she asked security to identify the person sneaking into the conference room during the fire drill, she’d have her suspect, but then she’d have to explain what those files contained…and why.

The security guard may not know or care about the files, but it would get back to Michael, and he seemed to run that lab like a tight ship.

If Special Agent Jefferson found out about her ties to this area and her private investigation into a cold case, he’d yank her off this detail in a hot minute.

She had no doubt that if Michael found out, he’d report her to Jefferson.

Michael seemed cooperative, but who wanted the FBI snooping around their forensics lab?

She might’ve even suspected Michael of stealing the files to get some dirt on her, and he had insisted that she leave everything behind in the conference room, but she’d been with him for the duration of the fire drill and evacuation.

He could’ve had someone do his dirty work while he distracted her.

His employees seemed loyal to him. They’d even supported him while suspicion hung over his head about his wife’s homicide.

He’d had an alibi for the time his wife disappeared, too. At work. Didn’t mean he hadn’t hired someone for that evil deed, either. The man had just enough smoldering anger beneath his dark, moody good looks to be a suspect.

The time on her cell phone told her to get to the lab for another day of scanning through databases, files and case records amid sidelong suspicious glances—hers not theirs.

She’d be holding her breath all day waiting for that shoe to drop, that phone call from Jefferson ordering her back to DC.

Because why else would anyone be interested in her files?

How did this person even know she’d had anything to hide? Hadn’t she come across as professional? Cooperative? One of the boys? Someone must’ve seen beneath her demeanor to the desperation and deceit. The only person she’d spent any time with had been Michael.

It started with Michael.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the lab, checked in with security with her temporary badge and jogged upstairs to her temporary office. Then she made a beeline for Michael’s office.

She hovered at his open doorway before he noticed her, and she studied his face in profile as he worked at his computer.

He wore his black hair swept back from his high forehead, and his hawkish nose gave him the appearance of a Roman emperor.

Oh, yeah. He could command just about anyone to do anything… except his wife. And her.

It took her a second to realize he’d detected her presence and was now staring back at her, those blue eyes startlingly out of place for a Roman emperor.

Feeling her cheeks warm, she tilted up her chin. “Good morning. I wanted to ask if I can have a key to the conference room. It does have a lock on it, but I’d like a way to get back inside. I’ll be bringing the case files up there today and would be nice to secure them.”

He swung around to face her and steepled his fingers. “Of course. I’ll get one of the guards to check on that for you. Did you have a nice evening? Jet leg?”

“Not too much. I had some food delivered to my hotel from a diner down the street and got to bed early.” She left out the part where her nightmare kept her tossing and turning all night. She must have bags under her eyes if he thought she had jet lag. Should’ve applied more concealer.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve invited you to dinner on your first night…

second night here. In fact, everyone in the lab should take a turn having you over for a meal.

” He’d crossed his arms over his chest and was watching her from half-lidded eyes in a position that hardly screamed out a welcome. Was he being sarcastic?

Her lips tightened for a second. “You’re joking, right? Nobody needs to wine and dine me.”

“This is Marysville, not the Beltway. We don’t wine and dine. I’m talking about a home-cooked meal. My sister actually made dinner last night, and it wasn’t half bad.”

“Y-your sister? You live with your sister?” She didn’t expect that.

“She’s been out here for the past six months, helping me with my daughter.” With his arms still crossed, his fingers bunched into the sleeves of his button-down shirt, crumpling the fabric.

“You’re lucky to have her help.”

He gave a brief nod. “Do you have any children, Nat?”

His narrowed eyes and hard jaw turned the question into an interrogation, and she shifted from one foot to the other.

And when had he started calling her Nat ?

She’d gone by her old nickname until about four years ago, but she did still sign most of her FBI correspondence as Nat , as she’d joined the Bureau as Nat Brunetti—and it made people think she was a man.

Michael must’ve seen that correspondence.

She cleared her throat. “No, I don’t have any children.”

“Married?”

“No.” Was he asking for personal reasons?

“Ever been married?”

“As a matter of fact, I was married, briefly.” She turned away from his office. She didn’t feel like telling Michael about her short, disastrous marriage that she ruined. “I can talk to security about the key to the conference room, if that’s okay with you.”

“Absolutely.” He swung back to his computer screen. “If there’s a problem, have them call me.”

She went back downstairs and approached Sam behind the security desk. “Hi, Sam. I’m Natalie Brunetti. I borrowed the umbrella yesterday.”

“Sure, I remember. You can keep it.”

“Thanks, but I came down here to ask if you have a key to the conference room upstairs. It’s my temporary office while I’m here, and I’d be more comfortable if I could lock it.” She jerked her thumb toward the ceiling, as if Sam needed a reminder which direction was upstairs.

“I have that key. Let me check in the back. You can wait here.”

“Thanks.” She leaned against the counter while trying to frame her next request to Sam in her mind.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the office behind the counter jingling a set of keys on a silver ring. “I have two keys for that office. I’ll keep one here, and you can take the other.”

“Perfect.”

He removed one key from the ring and dropped it into her open palm. “Just make sure you return it when you leave.”

“I’ll put it on my list.” She dipped her hand into her purse to retrieve the key fob for her rental car. As she slid the conference room key onto the ring, she asked, “Does the lab have a lot of fire drills like the one yesterday?”

“Not like the one yesterday.” He swung the ring containing the other key around his finger.

She caught her breath. “No? How was yesterday’s different?”

“It wasn’t planned. Took us all by surprise. I thought for a minute there might’ve been a real fire.”

“So it was a…prank?”

The key stopped twirling, and his dark eyebrows jumped toward his bald pate. “A prank? I hope not. I think it may have been a mistake or the alarm got tripped somehow. The fire department is having a look today.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t bother to check camera footage to see who pulled the alarm.” She held her breath, trying to crack a smile.

He shrugged. “That wouldn’t do us much good, anyway. Some alarms are out of the camera view. It’s not worth investigating.”

For you, maybe .

“I hope it’s the last one. It interrupted my work.” She held up the keychain with her new silver key dangling from it. “Thanks again for the key.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him a broad smile before going upstairs. Ugh, he’d called her ma’am . He must think her an uptight witch, and she was still none the wiser about who pulled that alarm yesterday to gain access to her so-called office.

When she got back to the conference room, she closed the door behind her and parked herself in front of her laptop.

She supposed she could log in to the FBI database and print those two files out again, sending them to a printer in this office, but there would be a trail, and she didn’t want to push her luck.

She might not get the opportunity, anyway.

If someone at this lab stole those files to get her pulled from this audit, she’d probably hear about it soon enough.

And then she’d have to come clean to Jefferson, and even his supervisor, that she was Nat Cooper and investigating a cold case that had involved her.

She worked under a cloud of apprehension for another hour before shooting off an email to Nicole Meloan in the evidence room.

It was time to take possession of the case files.

Most of these cases were cold, but not all.

She wasn’t here to solve old cases…except her own.

She was here to comb through evidence that had been mishandled over the years, mishandled to the point that it had come to the FBI’s attention.

A few seconds after she hit Send on that email, the conference room phone rang. “Natalie Brunetti.”

“Hi, Natalie. This is Nicole. Just thought it would be easier to call then send emails back and forth. I believe we have all the case files here that the FBI ordered a few months ago for your audit. If you’re missing anything, let me know.

I’ll contact the King County Sheriff’s Department, as they handled all those cases and sent over the material. ”

“You’re an angel. I’ll be right down. Do I need a dolly?”

“Everything’s already loaded for you on a dolly. You don’t even need to come down to fetch it. Jacob, our part-time facilities guy, is here, so I’ll have him deliver the boxes to the conference room.”