“Not for Ronnie Kruger,” Ben noted. “But we need to consider other missing persons and Jane Does.”
Dan folded his arms as he thought. “I’ve watched for Jane Does. I don’t even know where to begin with missing persons. What are we looking for, exactly? Someone with Ronnie Kruger’s blood?”
Sally chewed her lower lip and tried to ignore Ben, who was standing close to her side again, his broad figure hovering like a shadow. “Let’s start with blood. James Kruger thought he saw his mother in the living room, and we know we found a fatal amount of blood spilled on that area rug.”
“How do we know that?” Ben’s voice was thrillingly close to her ear. A wave of prickles dashed across her skin.
“Here.” Fritz gestured to a manila file, then shuffled through the contents as he spoke. “We begin with an area rug covered in a huge stain. Tests confirm that this stain is in fact dried blood.”
He spread several eight-by-ten pictures across the table. Each photograph featured the notorious area rug, with the progression of photos moving from the folded rug being discovered in a brown Dumpster to the crime lab, where it was spread on a tarp. “With a smaller stain,” Fritz continued, “you can experiment with recreating the area of the stain to determine how much blood was lost. With this amount, we use old-fashioned math. First we weighed a clean area of the rug and compared it to the weight of a stained area the same size. A little subtraction and we know the weight of the blood on that carpet sample. Once we have that, we can calculate how much blood was saturating that sample, and then multiply the result by the area of the entire stain.”
Sally arched an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder at Ben. “Got that?”
“I’ll trust your calculations, Fritz,” he replied. “How much blood do you calculate the victim lost?”
“About four liters. A fatal amount.”
“Gunshot?” Ben leaned sideways, propping himself against the wall with one arm.
“That’s what the spatter patterns on the wall show,” said Fritz. “Mitch Kruger scrubbed it after the crime, but a little luminol exposed them.”
“We know it was fatal, and we know it was Ronnie Kruger’s blood because the lab ran DNA tests,” said Dan.
“Except it couldn’t have been Ronnie’s, because she’s alive,” Sally said.
“Maybe she harvested her own blood somehow.” Fritz stared into space, lost in thought. “She could have saved a series of smaller donations to fake her own death.”
“She is a nurse,” Sally mused. “But she works at a high school, so she wouldn’t have access to blood collection materials.”
“That also leaves us without a motive,” Ben said. “Why would she fake her own death and then wander back into town? As a suspect in her disappearance, her husband wouldn’t have been able to collect on a life insurance policy.”
“He may not have been able to collect without a body, either,” Sally agreed. “Not for years. James Kruger thought his mother was lying on that rug, and we found Ronnie’s blood. Is it possible that she would share her DNA with a relative? A sister, maybe?”
“Only an identical twin,” Fritz replied. “But she doesn’t have one.” He twisted his mouth to one side as he thought. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever hearing much about Ronnie’s family. Does she have any living relatives?”
“In Pennsylvania.” Sally thumbed through the photographs of the area rug. “A very strict family with religious roots. Ronnie was pregnant out of wedlock and her parents disapproved, so she and Mitch left the state. That was almost twenty years ago, and I don’t think they’ve spoken since. Her mother and sister refused to return our calls, and her brothers were little help.”
* * *
“A sister?” Ben’s interest was piqued. “We need to find her.”
Sally sighed and turned to face him. “Not a twin, Ben. It doesn’t fit.” She spoke slowly, as if he was missing something obvious.
He shook his head. “I know that. But James saw a woman who looked like her on the living room floor. Allegedly,” he was quick to add. With this case, they couldn’t take anything for granted. “A sister might have similar hair or features. Come to think of it, did you find any hair on the rug?”
“Sure.” Fritz shrugged. “Ronnie’s hair, Mitch’s hair, James’s hair, dog hair. Nothing that tells us anything.”
Ben stepped closer. “What about foreign hair? Any strands that couldn’t be identified as belonging to an immediate family member?”
“Yes.” Sally nodded, and Ben detected a mounting excitement in her voice. “Yes. That’s a good idea. Let’s take a second look at that evidence. This time, we should check for hair that may have come from a relative of Ronnie’s.” She exchanged a glance with Ben. “If the family was estranged, it’s unlikely a relative would be there under normal circumstances, right?”
Fritz furrowed his brows. “Okay. We’ll take another look at the rug.”
“And we’ll take a closer look at the relatives,” said Dan. “Try to locate the sister. We didn’t have any reason to dig too deeply the first time around, but it makes sense.”
“Great. Okay, this is good.” Sally spoke to herself more than anyone else. Then she glanced at Ben, her brown eyes wide and soft. “That was a good idea.”
God, she was lovely, and his heart quickened at the sudden change in her tone. His back straightened, but then he shrugged. Better to play nonchalant. He couldn’t exactly claim any victory here. Not yet. “It’s just a possibility.”
“A good one,” she stressed. “This could be what we overlooked the first time around.”
“We’re still missing a body, Sal,” he said. “If you’re thinking that we could bring a different case based on forensic evidence, I fear you’re going to be disappointed. Pardon the term, but I expect Jack will be a little gun-shy about these cases from here on out.”
“I know.” She approached him and leaned back against the long table on which Fritz had displayed the photos. Ben mirrored her position. “I don’t know if this will come to anything, and DNA evidence will take weeks to process. But it’s a good start. There are all these things we didn’t consider because we thought we were looking for Ronnie Kruger.”
He tried not to focus on the warmth radiating off her body as she sat so close to him. He looked at the floor, the dull gray tile spotted with shards of white and black. But his eyes wandered to her brown, sensible-heeled shoes, and the fact that if he allowed himself to look, he could make out the outline of her shapely legs below her pants. He brought his eyes back up to stare at the gory crime scene evidence Fritz had so helpfully displayed around the room. Nothing sexy about that.
“You thought you were looking for Ronnie Kruger,” he repeated, “and that’s why you didn’t consider following up on these other leads. Ronnie’s absence was a distraction.” He stood up again so that he could look at all three of the professionals at once. “A red herring to draw your attention away from a real crime. And maybe that’s why Ronnie Kruger disappeared in the first place.”
Chapter 7
They remained at the lab for several more hours, giving Ben a tour of the forensic evidence. By the time they returned to Sally’s car, it was after five o’clock.
“My vehicle should be back at the lot,” he said as he opened the passenger door. “I got a message from the mechanic that whoever changed my tires hadn’t replaced the old valves, so that’s how I wound up with three flats.”
“What?” Sally wrinkled her nose. “Was that to save a buck?”
“Apparently.” Ben had been tamping down his disgust all day, but he’d give the mechanic a piece of his mind. “Thanks for the ride. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” Her tone was almost light.
Ever since he’d suggested they look for a relative of R
onnie Kruger’s, Sally’s manner toward him had taken something of a shift. Gone were the sneers, pointed glares and general haughtiness. Instead she’d started looking to him when offering her opinion, as if to gauge his response. It was almost as if she’d started to see him as a true partner. He was nearly afraid to move for fear of disrupting a delicate balance.
Sally turned the key in the ignition and then sat for a moment, blowing into her hands.
“Cold?” Ben reached forward and turned on the heat. Warm air blasted from the vents.
“Thanks,” she said.
They locked gazes for a moment, but she broke contact, pushed the gearshift to Reverse and backed out of the space. “Interesting day,” she said. “Do you think you have enough information now? You know...for your report?”
Ah, there it was. The report. That’s why she was laying on the charm, because it suited her right now. He swore he felt his heart drop. “Not yet,” he admitted. “There are too many unanswered questions as far as the forensic evidence goes.” He shot her a glance and noticed the worry line creasing her brow. “I told you, I’m on your side with this. Ronnie Kruger’s disappearance forced you to look at the case a certain way. You couldn’t have anticipated this twist.” He leaned toward the window.
“So that means you’re going to report that I exercised appropriate judgment under the circumstances, right?” She was animated now, and there was more than a tinge of hopefulness in her voice. “You’re going to tell Jack that I can’t be blamed for Ronnie Kruger being alive?”
Ben forced a dry laugh. “Yeah. That will probably be my report, though I may use different words.” He massaged his temple with his index finger. “I’ll also tell him that according to James Kruger, there was a murder, after all. Maybe Jack’ll allow us to continue the investigation.”
“Here’s hoping,” Sally said brightly.
Boy, had her mood changed. She was humming to herself and tapping her fingers in rhythm on the steering wheel. She seemed so happy all of a sudden. Something twisted in his gut. He couldn’t blame her for feeling relieved at the conversation they’d had with Fritz and Dan. The forensic evidence was strong, but subject to human interpretation. It required context, and it appeared the investigators may have simply placed it in the wrong context to begin with. Now they could return to the evidence with fresh eyes and a fresh theory, and discover something new. “Bringing Mitch Kruger to justice for a murder that he actually committed would go far in restoring the office’s reputation in the eyes of the public,” Ben mused.
“Yes, it would. I just worry that our hands will be tied until we find a body. Jack won’t be likely to support another case brought purely on forensic evidence. At least, not against Mitch Kruger.” She slapped the steering wheel forcefully. “It makes me so angry! To think that Kruger could get away with murder because he managed to do a good job at hiding the body.”
“We can’t discount Ronnie yet,” Ben noted. “If there was a body, what was her involvement in the cover-up? She disappeared for almost a year, and I’m not buying the amnesia story. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m not buying it, either.”
He leaned his head back against the seat, pulling his hands to his stomach. A knot in his gut still told him that Sally was in danger. “I can’t forget what James Kruger said this morning. That if you keep poking around, Mitch may try to silence you. You need to talk to the police about that.”
Even in the fading light of dusk, he saw her throat tense. “I have nothing to tell the police. You know that. There have been no threats, and they’re not going to do anything based on one person’s speculation.” She ran her fingers through her hair, scattering honey-blond waves that plummeted softly around her shoulders. “There’s no sense in either of us worrying about it. Not now.”
But her admonition went unheard. The threat stirred something fierce in him. They were partners, and that status made him feel extra protective of her, responsible for her safety. Besides, he owed Sally for any hurt he’d caused in the past. Protecting her was a way to make his stupidity up to her, to turn a new leaf. Keeping her alive and safe would be a do-over. He owed her that much. No matter what she said or how she warned him off, he would be keeping an eye on her. His military training would come in handy for that.
Her cell phone rang, and she glanced down at the number. “Oh, shoot. It’s my parents. I completely forgot I was supposed to meet them for dinner.” She picked up the phone from where it sat balanced on the center console, and placed it on her lap.
“Goat cheese crusted stuff,” Ben mumbled. “I remember.”
“Well, considering how late I am, this is probably my mom calling to find out whether I’m lying dead in a ditch somewhere.” Sally looked over at him. “Can you block your ears for a sec? I have it programmed with the Bluetooth system in the car.”
“You want me to...what? Put my fingers in my ears?” He tilted his head. If they were stuck in this vehicle together for a hundred years, he was confident he’d still never manage to predict the things that came out of her mouth.
“Just, you know, cover them,” she replied casually. “Like headphones, but with your hands.”
He did as asked and felt completely ridiculous. Covering his ears succeeded in blocking the sound of absolutely nothing as Sally spoke with her mother.
* * *
“Hey, Mom. I’m not dead, I just forgot about dinner. Work has been a little crazy.” And Wednesday night dinners with my parents are easily forgotten.
“Hi, sweetie. Oh, yes, we saw the news. Was that your case where the dead woman was really alive? It’s like something out of a crime show.”
Her mother would know. She had the elegance of Jackie Onassis crossed with a passion for violent crime shows. Sally shot Ben a glance to see if he was listening, but he looked disinterested. “Yup, that’s my victim. Turns out she’s been in Vegas. With amnesia.”
“Oh, honey, that sounds like bull—”
“Mom!” Sally shook her head as Ben started laughing. “Don’t talk like a trucker. I have a coworker in the car with me, and you’re on speakerphone. I have to drop him off at the office, and then I’ll be over for dinner. Give me about an hour.”
“An hour? Oh, honey.” There was a pause. “Why don’t you just bring him over?”
She and Ben exchanged a glance. Why not? Because I’d rather eat shards of glass seemed like a rude thing to say, and the truth—that she’d planned to tell her parents she was pregnant—seemed much too messy. “Oh, I don’t know....”
“Sally, we have more food than we know what to do with. It’s dinnertime—just bring him over.”
She felt itchy all of a sudden, and like she was trying to maneuver through a minefield. That would teach her to use Bluetooth when her mother called. “Mom, I just don’t...” She eyed Ben and lowered her voice. “I’m sure he has plans.” She pleaded with him silently to decline the invitation. Ben McNamara at her parents’ house? The thought was too awkward for words.
But Ben flashed her a brilliant smile. “I’d love to stop over for dinner, Mrs. Dawson.” He gave Sally a little wink. She felt every muscle in her body tense, and focused on biting her tongue.
“I thought you might!” her mother continued. “You must be hungry after working all day. Are you a lawyer, too?”
Oh, God, this was going to be so painful. “Yes, Mom, he’s a lawyer, too.” She didn’t need to know that he was a former law school classmate, a certified hottie and a shameful part of her past all wrapped up into one devastating package. “His name is Ben.”
He was grinning at her as if he’d just scored some major victory. Damn it.
“I’m new to town. Well, back after a long hiatus,” he continued, laying it on thick now. No doubt enjoying himself immensely. “I just came back from tours in Iraq and Afghanistan as part of the M
arine Corps. I was a lawyer for them, but we’re all combat ready. I know my way around a gun.” He beamed at Sally, so clearly pleased with the way she was fidgeting in her seat, as if she were sitting on rows of nails.
The tone of her mother’s voice became subdued. “You’re a real hero, Ben. Well, I’m honored you’ll be joining us for dinner.”
You have got to be kidding me. Ben was not a hero. Ben was a womanizer who’d broken Sally’s heart. He was reason number one she had sworn off men, with her former fiancé following only as reason number two. She’d fallen in love with Ben, and he’d done nothing but abuse her feelings. But she bit back the acerbic words. He would be joining her for a family dinner now, and there was still the outstanding report he had to write. She may as well save all the awful things she had to say until that report was written and her job was officially safe.
He leaned forward in his seat, fighting back a laugh. Was he laughing at her mother? Sally felt a fierce protectiveness begin to swirl in her chest. Her mom might be a little on the nutty side, but no one criticized her unless they were family, and Ben was not family.
“Hey, Mom, this all sounds great,” she lied. “We’ll see you in twenty minutes or so, okay?”
“Okay, honey. Ben, we’ll have a hot meal ready.”
“Sounds delicious. Thanks, Mrs. Dawson.”
Sally disconnected the call and spun toward him as he broke into a loud fit of laughter. “What the—? Are you laughing at my mom?”
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Oh. No.” He settled back into his seat, still chuckling. “No, I’m laughing at you. That look on your face. Priceless.”
She glared at the road, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “This counts as the dinner. I’m now forced to drag you to dinner with my parents and fake being a gracious hostess. I hope you’re happy.”
“Is this you being gracious? I couldn’t tell.”
The Burden of Desire Page 10
