A Tracers Trilogy

by Laura Griffin

  Troy was still smiling. “Do you have one?”

  “No. Someday, though.” Someday when she lived somewhere besides a minuscule apartment and spent more than five minutes a week at home.

  Elaina glanced around the room, taking everything in. She liked to conduct interviews in people’s homes whenever possible. You could learn so much by seeing the way people lived. Elaina’s gaze lingered on the worn green recliner in the corner. The upholstery clashed with the rest of the decor. On the wall behind the chair were several mounted fish.

  Ronnie returned with two tall glasses that were already sweating.

  “Looks like your husband was quite a fisherman,” Elaina said.

  Ronnie glanced at her with a startled look.

  “I noticed the trophies.”

  Ronnie turned and smiled fondly at the corner with the recliner. “He loved the water. You heard the term golf widow? Guess you could say I was a fishing widow long before I was a real one.” She paused. “For years I been meaning to put all that away, but I never can bring myself to do it.”

  Elaina smiled politely and sampled her tea. It was cold and sugary, and she took another gulp.

  “Y’all sit down.” Ronnie perched on the edge of a floral-print wing chair and looked at Elaina. “Now, what can I do for you? You said something about a Peeping Tom in the neighborhood? Must be serious to have the FBI involved.” A carefully penciled eyebrow lifted. “Don’t suppose this has to do with that girl they found this morning at the bird park?”

  “Actually, yes,” Elaina said before Troy could take control of the conversation. She sat down on the sofa while he continued to stand beside the fireplace. “We’re going back and taking a closer look at certain crimes in the area over the past ten years.”

  “You’re talking about the Peeping Tom from ten years ago?”

  “I believe it was nine,” Elaina said, pulling her notepad from her purse. Bear walked over and parked himself on top of her feet.

  “Well, that was a long time ago,” Ronnie said. “I’m not sure what all I can tell you. I saw him creeping around back there, and I knew what he was up to.”

  “What was he up to?” Elaina asked.

  Ronnie gave her a disgusted look. “Nothing good, I know that.” She offered Elaina a white crocheted coaster.

  “The police report doesn’t mention a physical description.” Elaina rested her tea on the table atop the coaster. “Do you recall what he looked like?”

  “I didn’t get a good look.”

  “Maybe he was tall? Short? Do you remember what color hair he had?” Elaina held her pen poised above her notepad, but the expression on Ronnie’s face had her hopes fading.

  “It was dark,” she said. “All I saw was a shadow.”

  Elaina’s chest tightened with frustration. She’d known this was a long shot, but she’d been hoping for something. An incident on Mary Beth’s street near the time of her murder was just too coincidental to ignore.

  “Can you remember any details at all about that night?” she persisted. “Maybe a strange vehicle parked nearby? Maybe an obscene phone call?”

  “I don’t remember anything like that.”

  “What about Sabrina?” she asked, grasping at straws now. “Did she mention anyone bothering her at school or maybe at work? How old was she at the time?”

  “She was a senior in high school. She didn’t have a job or anything, not with all the time she spent dancing.” Ronnie looked at Troy, then Elaina, and seemed to read their disappointment. “All I really recall was seeing some man creeping around the yard. Sabrina never could remember to close her shades when she changed clothes, you know. I saw him out there twice. Second time I’d ’bout had it.”

  “You’d had it,” Elaina repeated. “So the second time, you called the police?”

  “No, first time, I called the police.” Ronnie crossed her arms. “They took their sweet time coming out here, too. By the time they finally got here, he was long gone.”

  Elaina made a note in her pad and glanced up at Ronnie. “And the second time?”

  “Second time, I shot him in the ass.”

  CHAPTER 8

  You shot him in the ass? Like… with a gun?”

  Elaina glanced at Troy in time to see him shake his head at the stupidity of her question.

  “It was my thirty-eight Smith & Wesson,” Ronnie said. “I can show it to you if you like.”

  Elaina made another note in her pad before getting up to go to the back door. Everyone followed, including Bear.

  “Where were you standing?” she asked Ronnie.

  “Well, lemme think…” Ronnie opened the back door and pushed forward the screen, which made a high-pitched screech. Bear bolted from the house.

  “Now, see, that was my mistake. He heard the screen and took off.”

  “Tell me about the shot,” Elaina said, looking out over the weedy lawn illuminated by floodlights. “Did you have these lights at the time?”

  “Not then,” she said. “I put those in after.”

  “And do you know if you actually hit anything?”

  “Sure did. At least I think I did, because I heard a yelp. Real loud and painful-like, back there by the shed.”

  Elaina looked at the yard, her heart hammering now. This was a good lead. Maybe someone had been treated in a local ER that night for a gunshot wound. It was worth checking into.

  If they could pin down the date.

  “And did you report this second incident to the police?” she asked, then gave Troy a pointed look, hoping he’d catch her meaning. He did.

  “You mind if I have a look around, ma’am?” he asked Ronnie as he started down the back steps.

  “Go right ahead.” Then she turned to Elaina. “What would they do about it? They didn’t give a damn the first time.” She gazed out at her yard, where Troy was now prowling around the storage shed with Bear at his heels. “I’ll tell you what, raising a pretty daughter alone is no picnic. You have to fend for yourself half the time. That’s why I keep my gun handy. That’s why I got Bear, too.”

  Elaina focused her attention on Ronnie again. She hadn’t reported the incident, so Elaina needed every detail she could get to narrow down the date.

  “Tell me what happened, both before and after you shot at him.”

  “I had the back door open that night, letting the breeze in,” Ronnie said. “The lights were off in here while I was busy in the kitchen. When I walked through the living room, I saw this man leaning against the shed. Perfect view straight into Sabrina’s room.”

  Troy paused at the back corner of the shed. He ran his hand over the wood. He dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a penlight.

  “He was smoking a cigarette, too, and watching her,” Ronnie continued. “I remember that now. I thought he might be waiting, I don’t know, for us to go to bed or something. It was creepy.”

  Elaina heard the shed door creak open as she jotted down a note about the cigarette.

  “Anyway, I went into the bedroom, got my thirty-eight, then came right back to this spot,” Ronnie said. “My mistake was the screen door. I should have just shot right through it, but I pushed it open. He turned tail and ran.”

  “You fired just one shot?”

  Ronnie nodded. “One shot.”

  She made another note.

  “Elaina? You want to come see this.”

  She glanced up. Across the lawn, Troy emerged from the storage shed. “What is it?” she asked hopefully.

  The answer was in his eyes when he smiled at her. “Looks like we’ve got a slug.”

  “Can you believe it?” Elaina asked breathlessly as Troy backed out of Ronnie’s driveway. “A through-and-through bullet!”

  He cast a glance at her. Her excitement was palpable; he’d never seen her so revved up.

  “I mean, what are the odds?” She flattened her hand against her chest and shook her head. “We might get a DNA sample!”

  “It’s possible
.”

  “I mean, what a stroke of luck.”

  He cut another look at her. She was sitting there actually grinning. Her smile lit up her entire face.

  “Guess it was worth the trip, huh?”

  She laughed. “Guess so.”

  “I gotta tell you,” he said, “I thought it was a wild-goose chase.”

  She shook her head again in disbelief. “I can’t get over it. A lead. And after today…” Her voice trailed off.

  “After today, what?”

  He glanced over and saw that she’d covered her eyes with her hand and turned away.

  Jesus, was she… ? “Elaina?”

  He heard a quiet sniff.

  “Elaina, are you crying?”

  She shook her head, but she was crying. She wouldn’t look at him as she sniffled softly in the seat beside him.

  He stared ahead, shocked.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  He kept his eyes on the road, trying to give her some space.

  “God, I never cry. This is so stupid. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  He looked at her. “Who would I tell?”

  “I don’t know, just—” She pressed the back of her hand against her nose. “Just don’t write about this, okay? I’ll never live it down.”

  He pulled over near a street lamp and shoved the truck into park. She glanced around, alarmed. Then she looked up at him with those ice-blue eyes that looked bluer than ever right now because she was crying, and he felt a pinch in his chest.

  “Elaina. I’m gonna tell you again. I’m not quoting you. I’m not writing about you. I’m writing about this case. Not you. So quit being so paranoid.”

  She looked at her lap and seemed to be trying to rein in her emotions. She nodded. “Sorry.” She dabbed her cuff against her nose. “I just feel… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

  “Well, shit, you spent half the afternoon at a murder scene. You watched an autopsy. You talked to a grieving family. Then you spent the evening chasing down leads.”

  She nodded and looked away. She cleared her throat. “You’re right. I’m just tired.” She took a deep breath and smoothed her hair back. Then she glanced at the BlackBerry in her lap. “I need to call Scarborough.” She punched some numbers into her phone, and he noticed her hands were trembling.

  Troy put the truck in gear and pulled back into traffic. She left her boss a voice mail, then dropped her phone into her purse and leaned her head back against the seat. She gazed out the window and seemed calmer.

  “I’m just so relieved, you know? I finally did something right.”

  He glanced over and saw a faint ghost of the smile she’d had a few minutes ago.

  It was the smile that worried him. He was almost certain she was in for a disappointment.

  “You really think this’ll pan out?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The crime-scene techs. You really think Scarborough’s going to send a team out there to recover that bullet? And then have it tested?”

  Her eyebrows arched. “Of course we’ll have it tested. There could be DNA—”

  “After ten years?”

  “It’s possible. What, you think I should ignore a piece of evidence like that? It could be our unsub. He could be in the system already.”

  “I didn’t say you should ignore it. I just think you’re going to have a tough time getting anyone to look at it in a hurry. Isn’t your lab pretty backlogged?”

  “Yes.” She sounded defensive now.

  “You really think this is going to get any kind of priority? A decade-old slug?”

  She got quiet and looked out the window. The euphoria had evaporated.

  “If your boss gives you any trouble, I know a private lab where you can take it,” he said. “You heard of the Delphi Center?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “I know a tracer there. She’s at the top of her field with DNA testing. I can give her a call for you.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll handle it,” she said.

  “Suit yourself.” He cast a sidelong glance at her. “So how’d you know Ronnie was a widow? I assumed she was divorced.”

  Elaina shrugged.

  “No, really. What tipped you off?”

  She cleared her throat. “Her living room. Divorcées don’t typically put up shrines to their ex-husbands. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s still in love with him.”

  Troy watched her, surprised. First the tears, now the sentimental commentary. Elaina had a soft side that he never would have expected from the no-nonsense FBI agent he’d first seen in action at the marina.

  They reached the island, and instead of turning right, toward the Sandhill Inn, he hung a left. Elaina was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she didn’t even seem to register where they were going. He pulled into a gas station parking lot.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, looking around now.

  “Picking up some beer.”

  “For what?”

  “Us.”

  “I should get back to my room,” she said. “My supervisor might call. And I have work to do tonight.”

  He reached over and rested a hand on her shoulder. His thumb brushed the side of her neck, and his gaze locked on hers. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough today?”

  “I still have—”

  “Take a breather, Elaina.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’re wound so tight, you’re like a guitar string about to pop.”

  She watched him for a long moment. “And having a beer with you is going to cure me of this condition?”

  “Can’t hurt. Come on, I’m buying.”

  She looked out the window uncertainly, and he could tell she was wondering where they were going to drink these beers. Her place? His? He just sat there, letting her wonder.

  She glanced at her watch. “One beer. And then I have to get back to my room.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  As he disappeared into the gas station, Weaver’s words of warning came back to her, along with a tiny measure of common sense.

  Beer. Man. Moonlight. Elaina knew exactly where this was heading, and she didn’t want to go there. Or rather, she absolutely did want to go there, but she knew it would be a mistake. This was her first big case. She was at a turning point in her career. It was definitely not the time to have a fling with a stranger, particularly one who could cause her all kinds of professional problems, if he wanted to.

  Would he do it?

  She didn’t know. He’d said he wasn’t going to put her in his book, but she wasn’t sure she could trust him.

  Elaina sighed, annoyed with herself. Why was she feeling this temptation now? She’d gone through twenty-two weeks at the Academy and avoided all the random hookups that were so common among new agent trainees. Most of the single members of her class had worked hard and played hard. She supposed it wasn’t surprising—the predictable result of cramming hundreds of twenty- and thirty-somethings together to sweat and spar and stay up all night studying. The Academy was a pressure cooker, and many saw sex as an effective remedy for stress.

  Elaina, not so much. She’d sought her physical release on the nine-mile obstacle course, known as the Yellow Brick Road for the painted yellow rocks showing runners how to navigate their way through the wooded trail. SUCK IT IN! HURT. AGONY. PAIN. LOVE IT! The signs posted along the trail had been her motivation, her reminder that pain was necessary, that perseverance was critical.

  And when the academic pressure had started to build, she’d sacrificed sleep and poured more hours into studying. Week after week, she’d plodded her way through, immune to the subtle come-ons from the men around her. The ability to ignore distractions and focus on a goal had always been one of her best skills.

  And now it was failing her.

  A trio of girls in bikini tops and cutoffs exited the store and piled into a convertible. Music blare
d from the speakers as they peeled out of the parking lot and turned onto Lito Highway.

  Elaina watched the car fade away and felt wistful. A pang of regret for something she’d lost, but never had. And then the wistfulness disappeared, and she wondered whether each of those girls would make it home safely. Probably they would. But possibly one of them wouldn’t.

  The door jerked open and Troy slid behind the wheel. He handed her a six-pack of Dos Equis, and the bottles were already slick from the heat. He backed out of the space.

  “I just got a text message from my boss,” Elaina said.

  Troy turned onto the highway and glanced at her.

  “He wants me to call him, so I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

  He didn’t say anything as he cruised down the highway in the direction of her hotel. As he neared the inn, he put on his turn indicator, and she realized the flaw in her plan. She didn’t want him walking her to her room.

  “Actually, could you drop me off next door? At that little grocery place?” She smiled at him. “I skipped dinner, and I need to pick up some things.”

  He slid a look at her as he passed the hotel. “Appetite’s back, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  He turned into the Quick Mart lot and found a space right in front of the entrance.

  “Thank you,” she said, pushing the door open. “And for taking me to Ronnie’s, too. I really appreciate it. I’ll let you know how this thing turns out with the bullet.”

  “I’ll drive you back to the inn.”

  “No need. It’s just next door.” She smiled. “Anyway, thanks.”

  She felt his gaze on her as she entered the grocery store. She blinked at the bright fluorescent lighting and took a moment to get her bearings. She actually did need some groceries. That hadn’t been a lie. She snatched up a basket and filled it with the same items that occupied her pantry at home: granola bars, sunflower seeds, pretzels. In the refrigerated section, she grabbed a six-pack of yogurt and some fruit before heading to the check-out counter.

  As she walked back to the inn, she congratulated herself on resisting the urge to do something incredibly stupid. It was a wise decision. She should be pleased with herself.

  Instead, she felt cranky.