AN EYE
FOR AN EYE
An Ellie Matthews Novel
Caroline Fardig
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
AN EYE FOR AN EYE Copyright © 2018 by Caroline Fardig
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Kim Killion
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I could not do what I do without my fabulous editing team, Julia Maguire and Deborah Nam-Krane. Thanks to Kim Killion for the awesome cover and Katie Schnack for handling the publicity.
Big thanks to Mitzi Templeton, my forensics professor, and her coworkers at the ISP lab—Kim Early, Susan Laine, and Mallory Johnson for their continued help and willingness to answer my many questions.
To Joan Fardig, one of my biggest cheerleaders.
AN EYE
FOR AN EYE
PROLOGUE
Late one December evening, the first snow of the season began to fall, blanketing the quiet neighborhood in white. Christmas lights adorning the homes gave off a warm, festive glow. As the snow piled up, children watched excitedly out their bedroom windows, hoping enough would fall so school would be cancelled the next day and their winter fun could begin.
In the house at the end of the street, a woman stood alone, eating Chinese takeout over the kitchen sink and wishing for the snow to stop. She dreaded wintertime and the slick roads it caused. She had to show up for work regardless of the weather, and her car’s tires were bald and in need of replacement. She’d be lucky to make it through the season without ending up in a ditch somewhere.
She heard a noise coming from the backyard, so she set her container of food on the kitchen counter and shuffled over to the back door. That cat of hers had better not be walking around on her potting bench again, knocking tools and empty pots onto the ground. She’d had to pick up the shards of a busted terra-cotta pot only last week.
Opening the door, she called out, “Whiskers, is that you? Come inside before you freeze to death.”
It was silent within the walls of her privacy fence; she heard not so much as a meow from Whiskers in reply. She closed the door and returned to her dinner, figuring he would soon change his mind and come crying to be let inside. A crash outside got her attention. This time, she donned a coat and boots, determined to find that stubborn cat and bring him in from the cold whether he liked it or not.
On her way out the door, she flipped the switch for the outside carriage light on the back patio, but nothing happened. She sighed to herself, making a mental note to put “change light bulb” on her endless to-do list. Stepping down onto the patio, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Visibility outside had grown worse since a couple of minutes ago. The snow was now falling fast in huge clumps.
“Whiskers, kitty-kitty. Here, kitty-kitty.” Hearing a rustling to her left, she turned and peered into the bushes near the fence. “Come on, Whiskers,” she complained, walking toward the source of the sound. “It’s freezing out—”
Before she could finish her sentence, a blinding pain exploded at the back of her head. She stumbled forward, disoriented and dizzy. Unable to keep her feet under her, she collapsed to the ground. She managed to roll onto her back and wrench open her eyes, searching for what had hit her. Black spots, bright stars, and double vision clouding her sight, she could barely make out a dark figure swooping down on her. She raised her arms to push the person away, but her movements were slow, as if she were stuck in mud.
The figure clamped two gloved hands around her neck and squeezed. She gasped for air and tried to struggle free, but her body was sluggish and her energy sapped. She cried out, but could voice nothing more than a whimper with the pressure crushing her throat. As she wheezed out her last breath, she could have sworn she heard Whiskers let out a forlorn meow from the nearby bushes.
CHAPTER ONE
“Auntie Ellie, will you pull me around the yard on the sled again? Please, please, please?” my nephew Nate cried, tugging on the wet leg of my jeans.
I wasn’t properly dressed for a Saturday afternoon full of outdoor fun. The snow had hung around for days, but it was melting fast. The unreliable December weather in Central Indiana had gone from frigid to downright balmy within a twenty-four-hour period, which meant the eight inches of snow lingering on the ground was fast transforming into one giant mess. I’d expected Nate to lose interest once the snow began degrading into slush, and therefore didn’t bother with changing either of us into weather-resistant clothing before coming outside. I’d been wrong. Muddy slop seemed to be equally fun to a three-year-old—mainly, I believed, because he could splash in the puddles and get us both soaking wet.
“Okay, one more time. And then you are getting in the tub, sir,” I said, picking up the sled’s rope to pull the excited boy across the soupy mix of snow and grass.
Once we were finished, I made him strip off his wet clothes in the kitchen. He ran to the bathroom, stopping to squeal, “Hey, I’m naked!” as he darted past his mom and her friends, who were congregated in our living room. Our faithful golden retriever, Trixie, was hot on his heels. At least I’d had the good sense to keep the long-haired dog inside during this play session.
I rolled up my muddy pant legs and tiptoed through as my sister Rachel and her friends giggled over their study session crasher. “Hey, ladies. Sorry about the interruption. And the male nudity.”
Rachel’s friend Chelsea said, “No worries, Professor Matthews. We’ve got the hard stuff knocked out.”
Eyeing my clothes, Rachel said, “I would have told the kid that outside time was a no-go this afternoon.”
I wrinkled my nose at her. “That’s because you’re the mean mom and I’m the fun aunt.”
She smiled. “Well, then the fun aunt gets to clean up the mess.”
After cleaning up said mess and getting Nate settled into his bath, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on my younger half-sister and her friends. They were all students at Ashmore College, where I taught forensic science classes, and they always seemed to have some kind of drama going on. Rachel didn’t participate, for the most part. Being a young single mom and a full-time student, she had more than enough on her plate. But like me, she enjoyed listening to their nonsense. From my post at the bathroom door, I could keep one eye on Nate in the tub and still see down the hallway into the living room.
Jenna Walsh, a friend of Rachel’s since their childhood, stood and gathered her things. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to duck out early.”
Her snippy roommate Miranda said, “Get a better offer?”
Jenna grinned. “Yes, actually. I’m spending the rest of the weekend downtown.”
Never one to pass up a juicy story, Chelsea asked, “Ooh, a romantic getaway with your new man?”
Jenna blushed and nodded.
Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve known the guy a week, Jen. Aren’t you rushing things a bit?”
Jenna was rushing things, all right. She had a tendency to fall hard and fast for guys who were all wrong for her, but this had to be a new record. I couldn’t imagine Jenna’s aunt Jayne, a close friend of mine who was the no-nonsense county sheriff, would approve.
“Who cares? I like him. Why not live while we’re young? See you guys Monday.” Jenna waved goodbye and disappeared out the door.
After she was out of earshot, her friends were quick t
o start gossiping about her love life.
Miranda said, “I can’t believe she still won’t tell us who this mystery guy is. I say it’s someone we know and wouldn’t approve of, and that’s why she won’t tell us his name.”
Chelsea nodded. “It could be one of those sketchy theater majors she’s always hanging out with.”
Miranda tossed her hair. “No, none of them would be able to afford to take her on a romantic weekend in downtown Indy. I bet he’s a professor.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Yeah, and maybe it’s a secret relationship. What if he’s married?”
Turning up her nose, Miranda said, “Or worse, what if he’s old?”
As Miranda and Chelsea giggled over Jenna’s “old” boyfriend, Rachel didn’t contribute anything to the conversation. I wondered if it was because her own boyfriend was both old (my age) and sketchy, not to mention an Ashmore College employee. Although not a professor, he was a dorm director, which in my opinion made him an equally if not more inappropriate choice for her. She and I had already had it out over her current dating situation, and I was doing my best not to tell her how to live her life. I kept my mouth shut, although some days my contempt for that douche Tony Dante was difficult to bottle up.
“Auntie Ellie, watch this!” Nate crashed the toy boat he was playing with into his bathwater, sloshing a wave over the side of the tub, which the dog decided to dance around in. Lovely. Another mess for the fun aunt to clean up.
***
“Have things quieted down for you yet?” Jayne Walsh asked me over dinner later that evening.
“For the most part,” I replied.
Jayne, the Hamilton County Sheriff, was who had inspired me to become a criminalist, and I even worked for her department for a few years before taking my teaching job. A few months ago, Jayne had asked me to consult on a murder investigation, and the expedited trial for the accused had wrapped up last week. For my involvement in the case, I’d been bothered incessantly by reporters. I’d had to change my phone number and my email address to get some peace. When I was beginning to think I couldn’t take it anymore, they’d finally lost interest and moved on to the next big news story. I’d only begun to get my privacy back in the last few days.
“Good. You know, if you like the attention, there’s always a place for you in the department. Just say the word.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “You know I hate the attention. Always have.”
Grinning, she said, “Nevertheless, we miss you. Detective Baxter asked about you the other day.”
“Mmm,” was all I replied.
Nick Baxter and I had worked closely on the case, but had had a falling out over my refusal to even consider consulting again and his refusal to stay out of my personal business. I’d been through too much when I worked for the department to come back for more than a one-time favor to Jayne. My days in the field were done.
I changed the subject. “Do you have any idea who Jenna’s new mystery man is?”
“No. All I’ve heard is that my niece is head over heels for him, and way too soon if you want my opinion.”
“You’re not the only one who thinks that. Rachel’s not exactly thrilled about their romantic getaway this weekend. Granted, they’re barely going out of town, but still.”
Jayne raised one eyebrow. “Given that Jenna’s taste in men is about as good as yours, it’s cause for me to worry.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Before we could continue our conversation, Jayne’s phone rang. “Sorry. The sheriff is never off duty.” She hurried away from our table to take the call.
After a few minutes, she returned. I could tell by the look on her face that it hadn’t been a social call. She waved the waiter over and asked for a to-go box and the check.
Sitting back down to gather her things, she said, “I take it you wouldn’t be up for another homicide.”
My jaw dropped. “Another one so soon? And no, I wouldn’t be.”
“I didn’t expect so.” She lowered her voice. “This isn’t for public knowledge yet, but I know you can keep your mouth shut. Amy Donovan was found dead in the backyard of her home.”
Amy’s father, Frank Donovan, had been Jayne’s partner years ago when she’d first been promoted to detective. He’d since retired, but the two of them remained close friends, which was how I knew Frank and his family.
My dinner churned in my stomach at the thought of it. “Oh, Jayne. I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. Poor Amy. Poor Frank.”
I could tell Jayne was struggling to find a way to shut down her emotions in order to be clear-headed enough to do her job. “The worst part is that it must’ve happened days ago, because her body was buried under the snow. A neighbor happened to peek over the fence tonight and saw her lying there.”
I shuddered. Amy was a single thirty-something lady living alone, evidently with no one to miss her too much if she fell of the radar for a few days. “Do you have an idea on cause of death? Any possibility it could have been an accident or bad health or something?”
“No chance of that. She’d been hit in the head and strangled from the looks of it.”
Letting out a long sigh, I said, “I don’t envy the night ahead of you.” And I certainly didn’t envy the task of the crime scene investigators or the detectives. With Amy’s body being buried for days under the snow and the resulting mess of slush, most of the physical evidence at the scene would be either gone or degraded beyond use.
Jayne packed up her half-eaten dinner and put on her coat. “Right. Well, if you get bored, come on out. We could use an extra set of hands.”
I smiled. “I appreciate the standing job offer, but I don’t think I’ll ever be that bored. Be careful out there, Sheriff.”
***
After I’d finished teaching on Monday afternoon, I found a scruffy young man bundled in a puffy coat and a knit Ashmore College beanie waiting for me at my office in the science building. I almost turned and ran the other way. But, my purse and car keys were in my office, and I wanted nothing more than to go home and relax. After the recent student murders and my subsequent involvement in the cases, it seemed that every student at Ashmore suddenly wanted to take a criminalistics class. From me. For the upcoming semester, my classes were already full and had lengthy wait lists. That didn’t keep students from approaching me personally to try to go around the system and get me to agree to admit them to the class. I was tired of being harassed.
The young man brightened when I got to the door. “Professor Matthews?”
“Yes?” I replied, pasting on a smile.
Sticking out his hand, he said, “Hi, I’m Hunter Parsons.”
I shook his hand. “Hi, Hunter. My classes are full for next semester, but—”
“Oh, I’m not here about that. I’d like to interview you for the Ashmore Voice.”
I bit back a groan. That was even worse.
The Voice was Ashmore’s campus newspaper, but they were at best a college version of TMZ. Sure, they cranked out a physical newspaper, but their main fare was their video blog, or “vlog,” as it was called. The Voice had a street team that ran around campus taking videos, trying to catch students and faculty saying and doing things they shouldn’t. Not only had I managed to land myself on the vlog for cussing out a local news reporter who’d snuck into the science building to ambush me for an exclusive, but I’d also been the subject of countless front-page articles in the Voice’s newspaper. Since the homicide investigation I’d been part of had involved several Ashmore College students and staff, it was big news around here, and I was still being hounded about it.
“Hunter, I—”
“Please, Professor? I’m…not on the Voice staff just yet.” He smoothed his scraggly brown beard self-consciously and peered at me pleadingly through his thick dark-framed glasses. “This article is like my audition. Al Nishimura said if I can come up with a great story, I’m in. He said you’d be cool about talking with me.”
Al N
ishimura was the new idiot-in-chief of the Voice. Even after countless explanations, he could not get it through his thick head that I was not in fact “cool” with all the interviews. However, this nerdy kid seemed nice enough (especially for an aspiring reporter), and I hated to be the one to dash his dreams of working for the campus news organization, such as it was.
I opened my office door and gestured inside. “Okay, Hunter. Go easy on me, okay?”
He broke into a smile. “You bet. Thanks, Professor.”
All in all, it wasn’t such a bad interview. Instead of asking about the recent investigation, Hunter wanted to do a piece about what it was like for me being a criminalist working for Hamilton County. I didn’t mind talking about my time there, unless the subject of my resignation came up. Which of course it did.
Hunter said, “It sounds like you were doing great work with the sheriff’s department.” He picked up a glass award from my desk. It was one I’d received from the mayor of Noblesville for being part of the team that caught a serial child molester. “Why did you make the change to teaching? Don’t you miss being out in the field?”
As I was about to give my noncommittal stock answer to that question, Rachel burst into my office without knocking.
Wide eyes fixed on me, she said, “I need you. Now.”
My heart did a flip-flop. “Is it Nate?”
“No, Nate’s fine. It’s Jenna. She’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWO
I hopped up and rushed over to put an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. I steered her over to my chair, where she collapsed and put her head in her hands, letting her long blond hair fall like a curtain in front of her face.
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