Physical Evidence

by Debra Webb

  “How did you get out of town,” he prodded. That was the part that bothered him the most. She’d been barefoot and without transportation. Someone had to have given her a lift.

  “The rug guy,” she explained. “He had already taken the mats at the front of the hospital lobby entrance and gone back to his van for clean ones. While he put the new ones in place I hid in the back of his van.” She shrugged. “When he made his next stop I got out. It was a nursing home outside town.”

  Pinecrest, but that was still a good five miles from Mitch’s house. “You walked from there?”

  She smiled dimly. “Walked, ran, stumbled. I’ve got a few blisters to prove it. Mostly I hid in the woods afraid someone would find me.”

  Mitch thought about her scraped knees, then about her hovering in the bushes. “When did you get to my house?”

  She chewed her lower lip, thoughtful. “Sometime after dark. The door was unlocked so I went on inside.”

  “You didn’t call anyone?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t think. I was exhausted. My head hurt. I just needed to lie down. I fell asleep on the couch and then you came in.”

  “And you’ve told me everything you can remember regarding what you discovered during the course of your investigation?” he pressed. He needed her to give him everything, no matter how unimportant it might seem. “You remember nothing as to why you were meeting with Miller?”

  “I’m sorry, no. I don’t even remember talking to him at all. Like I said, my agency was hired to look into Marija’s disappearance and the family she was staying with, the Malloys. I still plan to pursue that investigation.”

  Mitch tapped the arm of his chair considering her words for a moment. “Even after I told you what the TBI believes, you want to move forward?”

  She nodded. “Her sister’s counting on me. I can’t in good conscience walk away without giving it my best shot.” She pursed those lush lips for a time. There was something about her mouth, the shape or color or maybe both, but he wanted to taste her so badly that it was an ache inside him.

  “Besides,” she continued, “I’m not sure I can buy into the serial killer scenario considering Marija’s circumstances and the Malloy connection.”

  A new kind of dread rising, Mitch asked, “What circumstances?” Marija had fit the serial killer’s profile perfectly. Since she hadn’t been found, that seemed the most likely scenario. Unless she just didn’t want to be found.

  “Jasna may not have shared this information with the police since it was so private,” Alex began. “But two days before Marija disappeared she called her sister and admitted that she was pregnant. Jasna felt certain that the father was Mr. Malloy since Marija was so afraid he’d find out. It’s possible he discovered her pregnancy and decided he couldn’t risk the bad publicity considering the upcoming senatorial race. Not to mention his wife’s reaction.”

  A chunk of ice formed in Mitch’s gut. Shock radiated through him. “That’s impossible,” he said tightly.

  “Why would my client lie?” Alex countered.

  “She has to be lying,” Mitch returned, his tone brittle despite his best efforts to keep it even. “Phillip Malloy is one of the finest men I know.” He leveled his gaze on hers. “And I should know, he’s my uncle.”

  “So that automatically clears him of possible wrongdoing?” Ashton countered. “I don’t think so.”

  Alex shot Ashton a quelling look. Mitch wanted to reach across his desk and wring the guy’s neck. “If you can’t prove that allegation, I would caution you to keep it to yourself.”

  “I’m not accusing him—”

  “Is that a threat, sheriff?” Ashton cut Alex off, leaning forward in his chair. “Because if it is, you’re making one hell of a big mistake.”

  “Zach,” Alex warned, placing a hand on his arm.

  Ashton shook off her restraining gesture and stood, glaring down at Mitch. “Make a formal charge, Hayden, or we’re out of here.”

  Mitch smiled, the gesture filled with the contempt strumming through him. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Zach, this is not the way to handle this.” Alex was standing now, too. She pulled him around to face her. “Let me do my job. Okay? You’re not helping,” she added when he still looked skeptical. “I have to think about what’s best for my client.”

  Ashton held up his hands, stop sign fashion. “Fine.” He sent a glower in Mitch’s direction. “He can’t charge you anyway. He doesn’t have enough evidence to make a case and he knows it.”

  Mitch leaned back in his chair, cocked his head and stared right back at Ashton. “I guess I forgot to mention the new evidence we discovered last night.”

  Alex’s expression fell; Ashton’s grew wary.

  “What evidence?” he demanded with a little less conviction.

  “A high-powered rifle, complete with sound suppressor, was found in the hotel room Alex used. It was hidden beneath the mattress.”

  She shook her head. “That can’t be.”

  “It’s a setup.” Zach shook a finger in Mitch’s direction. “And you know it.”

  Mitch stood. He pressed his palms against his desktop and leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Ashton’s. “Maybe it is a setup. Alex certainly appears to have no motivation for whatever the hell is going on here. But that’s beside the point. I have every intention of getting to the bottom of this one way or another.” He turned his attention to Alex then. “I will have your full cooperation.”

  “Absolutely.” Her gaze never wavered. “It’s in my best interest as well as my client’s.”

  Mitch shifted his focus back to Ashton. “And we’ll do things my way.”

  Before Ashton could respond, the door to Mitch’s office swung inward. Dixon stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Sheriff, Peg stepped out a minute. And you’ve got an urgent call on line two. It’s Detective Wells from Davidson County.”

  Mitch snatched up the receiver as Dixon pulled the door closed behind him. “Hayden.” Dammit. He didn’t need any interruptions right now.

  “Hey, Mitch. Wells here. You have an Alex Preston in protective custody in regards to the Miller case?”

  “That’s right.” Mitch ignored the rapt attention focused on him from across the desk. What the hell was this about? Alex hadn’t been out of his sight all night.

  “We’ve got what looks like a suicide up here. We found a business card for Preston in the woman’s room,” Wells added. “I think maybe you’d better come have a look.” He rattled off the location.

  “What’s the victim’s name?” Mitch stiffened when he heard it. “I’ll be there in half an hour.” He dropped the receiver back into its cradle and settled his gaze on Alex’s expectant one. “Your client no longer has an interest in this case, Ms. Preston.”

  “What are you saying?” Uncertainty flickered in her amber eyes.

  “Jasna Bukovak is dead.”

  Chapter Three

  Alex sat in Hayden’s Jeep feeling more than a little numb. Jasna was dead. Alex blinked and refocused her attention on the passing suburban landscape. The leaves were turning colors already. Golds and russets were sprinkled amid the collage of greens. And though it was a month away, the occasional yard was decorated for fall’s first major event. Bales of straw, pumpkins, black cats and an assortment of scarecrows.

  Jasna Bukovak would never see another holiday with her sister, even if Alex could find the missing girl.

  It was over.

  Alex wracked her brain for any tidbit of conversation she’d had with Jasna since arriving in Raleigh County, but nothing came to mind. Surely she had not learned anything that would have banished all hope for the young woman. Alex refused to believe that. She would surely remember anything so life-altering. She sighed with resignation. Then again, maybe not.

  She turned to the driver and considered what little she knew about the sheriff. Alex focused on the man behind that chiseled jaw and those cool blue eyes. He was highly regard
ed by his men. That had been obvious both this morning and during her stay in the hospital. The deputies were immensely loyal. Alex hadn’t found a complainer in the bunch. That said a lot about Mitch Hayden. If his men liked and respected him, then he was a fair man, a man of his word. His grief at the loss of two of his men was painfully clear. He wouldn’t stop until he found the person responsible for their deaths.

  Though he allowed her to believe that she was still his prime suspect, Alex felt fairly confident that he knew deep in his gut that she was innocent. He’d shown entirely too much leniency to maintain otherwise. She wondered how a man as young as Hayden, thirty maybe, had garnered himself such a highly respected reputation. She supposed he possessed more charm and political finesse than she’d seen so far. But then, according to the research she’d done before coming to Shady Grove, the Haydens had run this county for more than fifty years. That was likely the key factor more so than any of his assets, and he had many that had nothing at all to do with personality. She shivered at the thought of those strong arms around her.

  For the most part, Alex was pretty sure she had him figured out. He was a straight shooter. Probably a little too righteous for some of his counterparts, but preferred by most. She doubted he had much of a social life outside recreational sex considering the hours he appeared to put in. The thought of sex with Mitch Hayden sent another shiver through her.

  Alex shook off that ridiculous notion and forced her attention forward. Just because the man didn’t wear a wedding ring or have an answering machine loaded with calls from prospective lovers didn’t mean he ignored his natural instincts. He was too good-looking and in too public a position not to have his share of feminine attention.

  None of which was her concern. Alex touched the bandage on her forehead. She had bigger problems than Mitch Hayden’s sex life. Two men were dead, Jasna was dead, and somehow Alex was caught right smack in the middle of it. And she couldn’t remember why or how. Not to mention that she’d stuck both feet into her mouth by mentioning Marija’s possible pregnancy. If Alex had ever known that the Malloys were relatives of Hayden, she’d definitely forgotten that little tidbit. Getting any information on the family now would be next to impossible. Hayden would make sure of that.

  She started when another of those high-speed flashes of memory zoomed through her head. Mitch Hayden yelling at her. Alex strained to recapture the images, but couldn’t. If the memory was real, the handsome sheriff had been madder than hell about something.

  How could one missing nineteen-year-old young woman have spawned this kind of chain reaction? What had Alex seen or heard that made her a liability?

  Hayden slowed and turned left into the drive of a small two-story frame house. Several cars were already there. Some were Nashville P.D., others were unmarked. The house and its miniscule yard had been cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape. Before Alex realized Hayden had emerged from the vehicle, he stood next to her waiting for her to get out. She dragged her attention from the well-maintained house to the man who’d brought her here. Those blue eyes were analyzing her closely now. Too closely.

  “I’ve been here before,” she said abruptly, uncertain where the knowledge came from. “I don’t know when or why. I only know that I’ve been here.”

  Something changed in those assessing eyes, but she couldn’t say just what. “You don’t have to go inside,” he offered with too much understanding.

  Alex climbed out of the vehicle to stand between it and its owner. “Yes, I do,” she replied, careful to keep her gaze on the house before her rather than the man standing so very close.

  Zach had said the same thing. He hadn’t wanted Alex to come. But she’d insisted. She’d also insisted that he didn’t. He needed to bring Victoria up to speed and Alex didn’t need him butting heads with Hayden. Zach had her best interest at heart, but she couldn’t do her job with him hovering nearby. He still felt possessive of her when it came to her safety. Alex loved him for it, but his determination not to let anything happen to her could be irritating at times.

  She was immensely thankful for his friendship. Their brief relationship hadn’t changed how they felt about each other. It had only proven that they weren’t suited for anything other than good friends.

  “You’re sure you’re up to this?”

  Startled out of her reverie, Alex turned to face the man who’d spoken. Heat instantly rushed through her, leaving her a little shaky and a lot uncertain of herself. She remembered those strong arms around her, the feel of his bare chest beneath her cheek. Whatever the attraction between her and this stranger, it was powerful and more than a little unsettling.

  “We’re wasting time, Sheriff. I need to do this.”

  He studied her a moment longer as if still doubtful of what exactly she hoped to accomplish. “All right,” he relented, stepping back.

  Hayden led the way to the front door of the small boarding house where Jasna had taken a room. She’d planned to stay in the vicinity until her sister was found. The uniformed officer standing guard at the front door stepped aside without question for them to pass. Inside a steady stream of personnel wearing their bureaucratic camouflage moved up and down the stairs and from room to room.

  In the shared living room, a young man and two older women were being questioned. The other tenants, Alex supposed, and maybe the owner. The owner had started renting rooms to make ends meet after her husband died. She kept a clean house and prepared home-cooked meals, according to Jasna. She’d felt comfortable here. Startled that she suddenly knew so much about the place, Alex shivered. This was eerie. But a good sign, wasn’t it? She needed to remember so much more.

  “Mitch!” A man of about fifty and wearing a wrinkled tan suit called from the second-story landing. “Up here.”

  Alex followed Mitch up the stairs. Her chest felt too tight. Her stomach roiled. She took three long, deep breaths to counter the panic mushrooming inside her. This would by no means be the first dead body she’d viewed. She summoned the objectivity and nerves of steel she had developed over the years. This was not the time to fall apart. She’d barely convinced Hayden to allow her to participate in this investigation. She wasn’t about to blow it now by puking or passing out.

  Jasna’s room looked exactly the way it had the one other time Alex had been there. Clean and uncluttered by personal possessions. Despite the lack of personal touches, the old iron bed and hand-stitched quilt gave the room a feeling of home. Alex studied the room carefully, taking in every detail and allowing the feel of it to wash over her.

  “In here,” the cop in the tan suit said, motioning toward another door.

  Hayden stepped into the tiny bathroom first. Alex moved in beside him. The metallic smell of blood hit her instantly, her stomach clenched. More deep breaths. Alex felt the color drain from her face and she suddenly became cold.

  Jasna lay in the empty tub, her life seeped out through the ugly slits in her wrists. She was naked save for the silver chain she always wore. Her sister wore one exactly like it. Both chains held half of a small silver heart. When placed side by side, the word sisters formed.

  Alex closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for Jasna. And then added an extra word of supplication for Marija. Two young girls who’d already suffered too much loss in their lives and now this. Alex turned away and blinked back the burn of tears.

  What evil had done this?

  She would not believe that Jasna had taken her own life.

  Mitch crouched next to the tub and surveyed Jasna Bukovak’s body. He’d only met her once. She’d come to him regarding her sister and there hadn’t been anything he could do but refer her to TBI after he’d spoken with Phillip and Nadine. There was no proof of foul play and Marija was old enough to have simply decided to disappear. Yet, Jasna had been convinced her sister had not done so of her own free will. And since she fit the serial killer’s profile, that was a distinct possibility.

  Mitch cocked his head and studied the victim’s wrists, look
ing for bruises or anything else out of the ordinary. A frown tugged at his mouth as he considered the wounds. The angled slash on her right wrist looked wrong somehow. Too deep…too brutal. He felt Alex move closer to him. She had regained her composure, he supposed. She’d looked a little shaky at first, but she’d proven tougher than he’d expected.

  “Take a look at this,” he said without glancing up.

  She crouched next to him and he nodded toward the part that nagged at him. “That’s a little reckless. Don’t you think?” He gave Alex a moment to visually examine the mark before he continued. “This sort of suicide is usually well thought out. The details precise, ritualistic.”

  “That’s generally the case,” Alex agreed. Her face had regained some of its color, but she still looked a little washed out. She visually examined the victim closely, and then the room. “Where are her clothes?”

  Mitch looked around, then called out to the detective in charge, “Wells!”

  “Yo.” Wells stuck his head in the door.

  “Did you find the clothes she was wearing?”

  “We found a pair of jeans, panties and a Cubs T-shirt in the hamper there.” He motioned toward the wicker basket sitting between the toilet and the lavatory. “They’ve been bagged for forensics.”

  “Suicide note?” Alex asked as she braced her hands on her knees and pushed to her feet.

  Wells reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a bagged note. “Pretty straightforward stuff.”

  Mitch stood and read the note over Alex’s shoulder. Jasna had given up on finding her sister. She felt responsible for allowing something to happen to her younger sibling and decided she could not live with the guilt. She had no one or nothing left.

  “Do you recognize her handwriting?” Mitch asked Alex.

  She nodded. “It’s hers. She couldn’t come up with the required retainer, so she wrote Victoria a letter thanking her for agreeing to take her case anyway shortly before I started my investigation.”

  The Colby Agency was doing this one for free. Mitch hadn’t considered that. He knew their reputation. He wouldn’t even hazard a guess as to what kind of retainer fee they commanded. He supposed this sort of thing was a good tax write-off. Or maybe, he admitted reluctantly, Victoria Colby was just what she appeared to be, a woman of compassion and scruples.