by Mallory Kane
“Yes, I did, and it’s a good thing, or you may not have discovered he was missing for days.”
“So I guess it never occurred to you that he might have been luring you there to hurt you or kill you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ash met Rachel as she came out of the interrogation room.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I waited for you. I didn’t want you driving home alone tonight,” he told her.
“You were watching me, weren’t you? From behind that one-way mirror.”
He nodded. “We need to talk.”
She held up her hand. “Not tonight. I’m going home.”
He caught her arm. “No, you’re not. At least not alone. If you won’t come to my house, I’ll spend the night at your apartment.”
She looked at him in surprise, and he knew why. He’d never stayed over at her apartment while they were dating. That was one of the methods he’d developed over his years of casual dating. He made it a practice never to spend the night with a woman. His theory was that if he never brought them to his house or woke up in their beds, their attitude would remain casual, like his. It usually worked.
“You never have before. Why you think you need to do it now?”
“Because Campbell could be out there somewhere. Neil was right. He could mean you harm.”
“Oh, come on. Nobody walks away after losing that much blood.”
“If it’s his blood.”
Rachel’s green-gold eyes widened and her hand went to her temple. “Wow. I can’t believe I never thought of that. I guess I’m more tired than I thought I was.” She bit her lip. “Whose blood do you think it is?” she asked.
Ash shrugged as he stepped in front of her to open the door leading to the parking garage elevator. He pressed the button and the car came right away. “I have no idea, but it’s much more likely that he killed someone there and drove away with the body than that someone killed him and then drove him away in his own car.”
They got on the elevator and he punched the number three button.
“My car’s on four.”
“I’ll drive. We’ll get your car tomorrow.” He braced himself for more arguing, but she nodded, apparently too tired to object.
Rachel was silent on the ride home. That was okay with Ash. He needed to process what had happened. The first thing that had popped into his head when he’d seen the blood in the bathtub and dripped onto the floor was that Uncle Craig had gone off the deep end and managed to find out where Campbell lived.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he sent a prayer of thanks skyward that his family were all accounted for. That the blood in Campbell’s bathroom wasn’t Kendall blood.
But whose blood was it? Campbell had been incarcerated for twenty years. He’d been free for less than a week. He’d apparently never been anything but a small-time burglar. How had he ended up with someone’s lifeblood spilled in his house? And where was he?
Ash pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. He got out of the car and waited for Rachel to exit on the other side. She did, but then stopped before she closed the door.
“I don’t have any clothes,” she said.
“You can wear that tomorrow,” he responded impatiently. “Who’s going to notice?”
She threw up her hands in a helpless gesture. “Fine. You can take me by my apartment in the morning.”
“Fine,” he responded.
Once they were inside, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She crossed the living room into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She stood there looking inside.
“You hungry?” Ash asked as his gaze took in her subtle curves and the way she stood, one hip cocked, as she inventoried his fridge. He thought only men did that—stood in front of an open refrigerator door. But he had to admit, he liked the view.
“That sandwich was okay, but yeah, I’m hungry.”
“There’s cheese in there.”
“Do you have crackers?”
“I’m pretty sure I do. But I can fix you something.” He walked to the cabinet and opened it. “Something from a can. Soup? Or chili?”
She made a face. “I’d rather have the crackers.”
On the top shelf, out of her reach but easily within his, was a box of wheat crackers. He grabbed them. They were unopened, which was probably good. That meant they weren’t too old.
Rachel found the individually wrapped American cheese slices in the back of the refrigerator and took one. She set the food on the table and went back to the fridge and got the grape juice.
Ash got himself a beer and sat down at the table with her. He dug out a handful of crackers from the box.
Rachel unwrapped the slice of cheese and tore bits of it to eat with the crackers. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Almost eleven.”
“I’m going to be so tired tomorrow.”
“At least you won’t have to go to work,” he commented.
“What? Tomorrow’s Saturday?” She shook her head. “I lost track of what day it was.”
Ash studied her as she finished the last bite of cheese. She started to get up but he put a hand on her arm. “Wait,” he said. “I need to know something.”
“Ash, I’m really tired and I have got to take a shower.”
“What were you doing, going after Campbell like that?”
She gave him a quick look, then lowered her eyes to the box of crackers. She took a cracker out and broke it in half, then broke one of the pieces in half. “I couldn’t sleep the other night, after we—you know. Plus I was too warm, so I went out onto the porch and sat.”
Ash did know. He’d fallen asleep on the couch with her in his arms after they’d made love. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t woken up when she got up. But then, he’d been drained, physically and emotionally, first from immersing himself in the case files of his parents’ murder, then from the unexpected and amazing sex.
He pushed the memories of her lush, sexy body and the way they’d come together so easily out of his brain so he could concentrate on what she said. “You saw the car, too,” he said, watching her reaction.
Her head jerked up and her oddly colored eyes stared at him. “You knew about the car?”
“I saw it a couple of nights earlier, but I couldn’t get its license plate. Red Ford Focus?”
She nodded. “I have a friend in the DMV,” she said. “It belongs to Campbell’s mother.”
“Damn it, Rach. Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you just went running off over there. You could have been hurt or killed.” He blew out a breath in exasperation. The more he was around her the more he saw her stubborn side. “And I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to take your gun.”
“I didn’t go running off over there,” she retorted. “I thought about it. When my friend told me who the car was registered to, I thought about going to see Mrs. Campbell. But then I remembered I had an unsanitized copy of the DNA report that the commissioner’s chief of staff gave me the day of the press conference. It had the address of the house Campbell was staying in. I was going to go see him but he called me first.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again. “I’d have gone with you.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You’d have gone yourself, or just told me to forget it.” She paused for a brief moment. “I wanted to find out why he was outside your house. I wanted to be able to bring you something—a solution instead of another problem. I thought it might make up for my part in setting him free. Plus I was afraid he was stalking you. But you heard what he told me on the phone. He wanted to talk to me. He was scared to death that you’d find a way to put him back in prison.”
“I don’t care what you found out from him. What you did was dangerous.”
“I don’t know about dangerous, Ash. He was very nice and apologetic on the phone.”
“Not hard to fake.”
“I don’t think he was faking it.”
“Did you tell anyone—?” Ash was interrupted by his phone. He’d set it on the table in the foyer as they’d come in. He retrieved it.
“Ash.” It was Neil Chasen.
“Neil. What’s up?”
“I need to speak to Rachel. I don’t have her cell number in front of me. Didn’t I understand you to say she’d be with you tonight?”
“Yeah, she’s right here.” He looked at her. “Anything new about Campbell?” he asked.
“We’ve got a BOLO out for him and his vehicle.”
“No luck yet, eh? Well, maybe something will turn up tonight. Hang on,” he said, turning to Rachel. “It’s for you.”
Rachel looked surprised, but she took the phone. “Hello?” she said tentatively, then, “Oh. Neil. Hi. Please don’t tell me you have more questions for me tonight. I’ve got to get some sleep.” Her left hand slid across her stomach and she spread her fingers protectively.
The gesture slammed Ash in the chest. He hadn’t forgotten that she was pregnant, but he tended to forget how much it affected everything she did, until he saw her sliding her palm across her nearly flat tummy, or she’d get woozy and pale.
Then Neil said something and she squeezed her eyes shut. He couldn’t tell if she was relieved or upset.
“Okay, sure,” she sighed. “What time?” She listened for a moment. “Could we make it nine?”
Ash pointed to his phone and to himself.
“Okay,” she said again, then, “Ash wants to talk with—” She paused. “Someone to run the DNA? Sure. I can call around and see if I can get someone to come in.”
Ash frowned and gestured for the phone again. She handed it to him. “What’s going on, Neil?”
“I need the DNA on that blood run tomorrow.”
“What did the chief say?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet,” Neil replied.
“Oh.” Ash was surprised. Neil was definitely a by-the-book detective. Ash found it odd that he hadn’t consulted Hammond, but then, it was almost midnight on a Friday night. “What did CSI come up with? Anything?”
“The blood is O positive, which matches Campbell—”
“And what? Eighty percent of the population?” Ash put in. “Right, and it had been there at least twenty-four hours. That’s why I need the DNA analyzed ASAP. If the DNA matches—” He stopped.
“Yeah,” Ash said, filling in what Neil didn’t say. “The press is going to declare open season on the police department, the Campbells and my family.”
“You’d better be prepared,” Neil warned. “They’re already out in force. They know Campbell’s missing. So far we’ve kept the info on the bloody bathroom away from them, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Ash grimaced. Before all this was over, his family could be destroyed—again.
IT TOOK RACHEL SEVERAL phone calls before she found a forensic technician who was willing to come in on Saturday without a guarantee of pay.
“You owe me lattes for a month,” Debra Jensen had told her.
“Double lattes,” Rachel had agreed.
Neil had refused to allow Rachel to be involved in the testing. He’d secured her promise to stay at Ash’s house while Debra ran the blood evidence.
Rachel and Debra had talked about how to conduct the analysis so that there would be no chance of missing a second person’s blood in the mix. Rachel had recommended twenty-five random samples be run from various areas in the pool of blood. Debra agreed. Rachel and Ash paced Ash’s living room as they waited to hear the results. When Neil finally called them, Rachel listened to his excited chatter for a few seconds, then demanded to talk to Debra.
“Be careful, Rach,” Ash said. He was standing next to her, doing his best to hear both sides of the conversation. “You don’t want to have any questions come up about the results.”
“Neil, didn’t you get the okay from Uncle Charlie?” Rachel asked.
“Uncle Charlie—” Neil echoed.
“Sorry. Chief Hammond. He and my dad were big fishing buddies back in the day.”
“Oh.” Neil paused for a fraction of a second. “I couldn’t get in touch with him. I talked to his daughter this morning. She said Thursday night he was talking about taking a long weekend to go fishing, but he complained that he might be getting a bug. So she made him soup and told him to stay home and turn off his phones.”
“That’s probably what he did,” Rachel said. “But I’ll bet he’s at the cabin today, bug or not. Especially with this beautiful weather. He loves to fish as much as my dad did.”
“That must be it,” Neil said. “Because his cell phone’s turned off or out of juice.”
“Who’s next in line when the chief’s out?”
Beside her, Ash uttered a laugh. “Neil.”
“Not only that,” Neil put in. “I got a call this morning from the head of the Christmas Eve Murders Task Force. He told me they’re officially reopening the case and appointing me lead detective.”
“Okay, then, Lead Detective,” Rachel said, “let me talk to Debra.”
As soon as Debra said hello, Rachel asked her, “What have you got?”
“A very interesting result,” Debra said.
Rachel groaned. “Don’t be coy. You’re killing me. Did you get a match?”
Debra laughed. “I took the twenty-five samples and printed transparencies. Neil stacked them one at a time on the light table—”
“And they all matched!” Rachel heard Neil shout. “You should have seen them. Twenty-five sheets that lined up perfectly.”
“Twenty-five samples—twenty-five matches,” Debra added.
Then Neil was on the phone. “That means all the blood was from one person, right?” he asked.
“Yes, it does,” Rachel said, feeling triumphant.
Beside her, Ash touched her arm. She glanced at him. “You know whose blood it is, don’t you?” he said. “I can tell by the look on her face.”
How did he do that? How could he just look at her and know what she was thinking?
“What?” Neil said. “What did Kendall say?”
“Rachel knows whose blood it is,” Ash said. “I don’t know,” she corrected. “I wish I could see the pattern. But I’ve got an educated guess.”
“Well, let’s find out. Debra, can you compare the results?” Neil asked.
Rachel heard Debra’s footsteps on the tile floor of the lab.
“Debra’s comparing the results with the blind sample I ran two weeks ago,” she said to Ash.
She held her breath, waiting, but it was only a couple of seconds before Neil said, “Ha!”
“Neil?” she prompted.
“It’s his. It’s Campbell’s,” Neil said.
“So Campbell’s was the only blood at the scene?” Ash asked.
Neil relayed the question to Debra, then said, “Debra says yes.”
“Of course that brings up the obvious question,” Rachel said. “Where is Campbell, and is he alive or dead?”
“If Campbell was killed there in his bathroom,” Neil said, “another question remains, who took his body and his car?”
Ash nodded, although only Rachel could see him. “That is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,” he said into the phone. He looked at his watch. “I’d like to talk more about this, but it’s after five and Rachel needs to eat. I say we meet somewhere. Rach, are you craving anything in particular?”
“Craving?” Neil’s surprised voice came through the phone.
Ash cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say. He’d spoken without thinking, now he had to somehow backtrack. “Low blood sugar,” he said, sending her an apologetic look.
“Right,” she agreed. “Low blood sugar.”
“I see,” Neil said noncommittally.
THE THREE OF THEM MET UP at a local restaurant. Ash and Neil got steaks and Rachel ordered sea scallops and polenta. By silent mutual agreement they waited until after they ate to talk about the case.
“Get this,” Neil said. “You saw all the marks in the hall and the living room. They’re vertical drops. There are a lot of them, but not as many as there ought to be if someone climbed out of the bathtub wet and bloody.”
“And there were no bloody footprints, either,” Rachel added.
“Except for yours.”
She grimaced. “I know. I accidentally smeared some of the blood drops in the hall.”
Neil continued. “I think if Campbell had walked out of the house under his own steam, we’d see his footprints and a whole lot more drops and smears of bloody water.”
“What are you saying?” Ash asked.
“CSI thinks someone carried him out,” Neil said. “Probably wrapped in something. Campbell was—is scrawny. He’s around five feet six inches, and probably not a hundred thirty pounds soaking wet. It wouldn’t be hard for a decent-size man to carry him.”
“You think it was one person?”
“Don’t know.”
“What about trace? Anything that could have come from the killer?” Rachel asked.
“Nothing yet. There were fibers from a cotton sheet on the mattress and quilt but no sheets, and the quilt looked like it had been tossed in a corner. I’m guessing the sheets were what he was carried out in.”
“What happened with the hospitals?” Ash asked.
“Nothing. My officers finished with them early this morning.” Neil sighed. “They talked to the neighbors, too, who weren’t real happy about being questioned. One guy was outside smoking and saw a car pull up, but he didn’t pay any attention to the make and model. When he went to work the next morning, the car was there but Campbell’s wasn’t. I’m afraid we may have to abandon the idea of attempted suicide and a helpful neighbor taking him to the hospital.”
“So you’re left with murder,” Ash said.
Neil nodded, looking at his watch. “Looks like it.” He pushed back from the table. “I need to go. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. I’ve got to talk to your family.”
“On Sunday? Give me a break, Chasen.” Ash threw out a hand, palm up. “Give them a break.”
