Ready, Aim, Under Fire (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 10)

by Camilla Chafer

  “Are you still going to run the toothbrush DNA?” I asked, mostly from curiosity, especially after the lengths I’d gone to in order to retrieve it.

  “I planned on it. Back when Debby Patterson’s DNA was collected, we didn’t have the resources to digitize every record so her DNA never got uploaded to the system. She was officially in a gray area. Still missing because we couldn’t reach her for an interview, but according to her parents, she was fine so she dropped to the bottom of our list. I took the sample from the evidence box over to the lab and turned it in but it was too degraded to provide a match.”

  “The toothbrush is useless?” That was disappointing. I expected climbing out of a third story hotel room should have had a better reason than practicing escape routes under extremely strained conditions.

  “Not necessarily. The DNA they extracted is in the system, but no matches. Maybe something else will come up. I did find a couple notebooks in the box that I need to skim through in case there’s something I forgot.”

  “You could ask the Pattersons for their DNA,” I suggested. A simple cheek swab would take only seconds and could either prove or disprove Debby’s identity. Her DNA couldn’t lie.

  “On what grounds?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Now it was in my mind, I had no doubt the Pattersons had already discussed me and what I might be doing by infiltrating their lives. They were probably pissed. “You could compel them with a warrant?”

  “Yeah, like a judge will sign off on that,” grunted Garrett.

  “Okay, so strike one for the DNA. I’m going to get a photo of Debby,” I told Garrett, recanting my conversation with her old friend. “If I can get Anna to pick Debby out of a series of similar-looking photos, would that be enough to arrest her for something?”

  “No, that just gives more proof that Debby is who she says she is. Now, if your informant categorically states that none of the photos is Debby, I could pick her up for fraud,” said Garrett. He rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I can find a reason to extract her DNA. Under those circumstances, the Pattersons might even supply a sample, if pressed.”

  “I hate to ask, but what if she really is Debby? Are we guilty of harassing her?”

  “My gut says no.”

  “There’s no one else who can verify her identity and you can’t link her to the murder.”

  “Call it a hunch but she’s still my top suspect. There is something way off about that woman. I just wish I could put my finger on it, or anything more definitive than just a feeling in my gut. If we verify she isn’t Debby Patterson, that provides a motive for murder and then I can do a lot more. She could have an associate stashed somewhere. Is there anyone else in Debby’s life who could possibly identify her?”

  “Aside from Anna, the only people I’ve tracked down are her former boss and her colleague. They both could I assume. There’s also the friend Marley who I can’t trace.”

  “I hate to ask but maybe now is a good time to redeem a favor from the FBI to track her down?”

  “I don’t think I have any favors to redeem.”

  “That why Maddox called you twice while you’ve been here?” Garrett asked. My phone had been on his desk, relegated to a small strip of space behind a stack of files, but when the screen flashed a second time, and Maddox’s name appeared, I discreetly knocked the phone into my purse. At least, I thought I was being discreet.

  “Nope.” At least, I didn’t think that was the reason. “How do you know he called? You couldn’t see my phone from your side.”

  “It’s that look you get on your face when only he calls. He was a damn good detective. Smart, tenacious, with excellent instincts. I wish he’d stuck around instead of suiting up for the Feds. I’d have him back any day.”

  “Really?” That surprised me. I knew Garrett liked Maddox but I didn’t realize he admired him too.

  “Yes, really. I know our brothers and I gave him a hard time when he was dating you, and afterwards too, but he sucked it all up.”

  “I vaguely recall an incident where everyone walked out when he walked into the canteen.”

  Garrett rolled his eyes. “My point is: Maddox was here long before he was your ex. You don’t get dibs on him.”

  “Dibs?”

  “You don’t get first option on him.”

  “I never said I did!”

  Garrett rocked back in his chair. “I know I didn’t work with him directly, but he could have gone places here too if he wanted to. I don’t think any of us realized how ambitious he was. He could have earned a promotion here easily. He had an excellent solve rate, and put in the necessary hours undercover and was well liked. He still is. Don’t know what got him thinking about the Feds but maybe I can blame you for that.”

  “I think he just wanted a change of scenery,” I said but my mind flickered to the accusation. I wondered if Garrett were right.

  “He happy over at the FBI?”

  “Mostly.” Maddox and I had engaged in that discussion before. He said he enjoyed the work initially but it wasn’t what he expected. Now he was assigned to special projects that remained a mystery to me but he seemed happier doing it. I squirmed in my seat, wishing we could change the subject to anything but the man I was doing my best not to think about.

  “He’d be an asset to Solomon if he ever thought about hiring any new investigators.”

  I thought about that and grimaced. “I don’t think either of them would want that.”

  Garrett raised his eyebrows. “No, I don’t suppose they would.”

  “I can’t ask him for a favor,” I said. “We’re not talking right now.”

  Garrett gave me a pointed look. “Swallow whatever pride you have and ask, please. I need a break on this case. Officially and unofficially.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I grabbed my purse, knowing the best way to end the conversation was to remove myself from it.

  “Don’t forget babysitting,” Garrett added as he showed me to the door.

  “On my calendar,” I assured him.

  “It’s officially Star Wars night according to the kids. If you can wear a costume…”

  “You asked the wrong auntie but I bet Lily has one.”

  “I won’t ask why she has one.”

  “Probably best if she doesn’t tell you.”

  “It is childsafe, isn’t it? I don’t think TracI will like slutty Yoda and I don’t want to give my kids any bad ideas.”

  “It’s safe and it isn’t green. I’ll bring the popcorn!”

  I waited until I was outside MPD before unlocking my phone and checking the messages. Maddox didn’t leave one but he did send a text: I don’t want to argue. Call me.

  I could have ignored it until things got really awkward but since he made the effort to send me a message, I swallowed my pride, crossing my fingers that our prior argument wouldn’t restart and called him. I immediately got his answering service. I hesitated before saying, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue either” and hanging up. Even with my apology expressed I didn’t feel much better. It was weak, almost pathetic for me to leave it as a message. But, said the little voice in my head, at least I’d done it! Then I remembered the favor, and swallowing more pride, I called back. In a small, pleading voice, I asked, “This is entirely unrelated to the apology but please can you trace a name for me? Marley McFadden?”

  I was already in my car by the time I remembered something important. I forgot to tell Garrett about Grandma Patterson’s rambling on about another mother. I was just about to hop out of my car and return to his office when a loud rap sounded on my door window. I scrolled the window down and saw Garrett’s face. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I had a weird feeling I forget something,” he began, “so I took another look into the case file. The DNA thing might not be so conclusive after all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Read this,” said Garrett, handing me a coffee-stained notebook tha
t was open to a page full of handwritten notes. “Start on this page.”

  “What is it?”

  “My notebook from back then. I didn’t add it to the file I gave you because I figured everything you needed was already in there. I was wrong.”

  “Okay.” I took the notebook and squinted at Garrett’s cramped handwriting.

  Interview with Dr. Patterson, I read, noting the date was only days after Debby was reported missing. Parents concerned that there might be some influence by biological parents but nothing substantial. Debby found out about adoption accidentally when she was a teen but the issue rarely discussed amongst the family.

  “Debby is adopted?” I said. “Do you think that was a factor?”

  “It was mentioned at the time but I don’t know. It hasn’t been on my mind so I guess I forgot about it.”

  “The Pattersons never mentioned it.”

  “From what I remember, they only told me after I interviewed them a couple of times, and even then, they had to be pressed. I got the feeling that it wasn’t something they were comfortable discussing. There was no need to collect their DNA because even if we got a corpse somewhere down the line, we wouldn’t have had a familial sample to compare it to. So here’s the thing, there’s no biological connection to Debby that we can work with. That DNA could have come from anyone, even someone close to her. There were no usable prints on the gun so it was the best we had to work with.”

  “But you already ruled her out as the shooter.”

  “Not anymore. She had access to guns. That DNA could have come from someone close to her, someone she could have encouraged to kill on her behalf.”

  “From her dad?” I wondered. “He can shoot.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Can you get his DNA?”

  “No probable cause. Not unless he volunteers it — and why would he? — no judge will sign a warrant without any motive or evidence.”

  “What if he refuses to give it? Doesn’t that make him look guilty?”

  “People are funny about handing over their DNA to law enforcement. It’s not unusual to refuse even if you have nothing to hide.”

  “I remembered something too. When I spoke to Grandma Patterson, she mentioned Debby’s other mother during a lucid moment. Not much, just some ramblings, and before you ask, no, she isn’t capable of murder.”

  “I agree. I’m going to head over to the Pattersons now before I go home. I’d suggest you sit in, but I think it’s best that you keep a low profile like we spoke about.”

  “No problem. I need to get that photo of Debby anyway and see if Anna can identify her as Debby.”

  “I’ll see you later. We can talk then. Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t,” I promised. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  I didn’t know where Debby was but felt pretty sure I could find her. Plus, the drive gave me plenty of time to ruminate over the newest facts. Adoption was hardly uncommon, nor was the Pattersons’ attitude in regard to keeping it quiet. If she’d taken off to see her biological parents, it must have been quite worrisome for them. I could understand why they didn’t want to push her any further away, especially if that were the case. It was just strange that no one else ever mentioned it. Surely with a weight like that on her mind, Debby would have told someone? Yet it didn’t come up when I spoke to Art and Kara, or even with Anna. I was almost certain I saw no mention of adoption or biological parents in Debby’s emails either.

  Debby didn’t have many places to go so I started at the hotel. Her car wasn’t there when I circled the parking lot so I returned to the road, aiming for her parents’ house. There, I found her car. I parked and sent a message to Garrett, warning him that she was there, just in case he wanted to speak to her parents alone. While I waited, I took my camera out, hiking it up and getting ready to catch a shot of Debby as she left the house. I had to hope it was soon, lest I be late for my nephews’ and niece’s Star Wars-themed movie night.

  Lily called me ten minutes into my stakeout. “Where are you?” she asked, “And do you want a Jabba the Hut costume?”

  “Stakeout and no way! Tell me, why do you have a Jabba the Hut costume?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. It was a bad night.”

  “Then I definitely don’t want it!” I grimaced.

  “But who will you go as?”

  “I’m going as me.”

  Lily exhaled a deep sigh. “I hope I didn’t put my hair in Princess Leia buns for nothing. I’m leaving in twenty minutes so if you’re late, that’s okay. Poppy is dressed as Yoda. It’s a Halloween costume for a dog but I figured, what does she care? She’s the same size as a Chihuahua and her arms even fit through the front leg holes.”

  “I can’t wait to see her! Is Jord coming?”

  “No, he’s working late. What about Solomon?”

  “Maybe.” I hoped he would. He liked my niece and nephews and they liked him. They hadn’t started to call him Uncle John yet but I figured that would happen soon enough. Just the idea of it made me melt like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. If he cuddled Poppy, I would probably become a puddle on the floor. It was just a good thing we weren’t expecting my mom for babysitting duty. She would have had a lot to say about Solomon and fatherhood. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I refocused the telephoto lens and watched Debby walking through the living room. I could just see her pulling on her coat before she slipped out of view. I slumped in my seat behind the wheel, the camera lens perched invisibly on the door frame, and waited for her to exit the house. A moment later, the door opened. I readied my finger on the button, waiting for the moment when she looked my way. She and her mom hugged briefly before Debby walked into the street, her face partially hidden by a large scarf. She got to her car but instead of reaching for the door handle, she stopped and looked up, directly at me.

  I snapped a series of photos, realizing the decreasing distance meant she was now walking towards me, and her pace was picking up. Slumping even deeper into the seat, I lowered the camera and hoped she couldn’t identify me. The rapping on my window was just too bad.

  “That’s it!” Debby yelled at me. “Stop following me!”

  “I’m not following you,” I shouted back while looking up as innocently as I could.

  “Open this door right now and tell me who you’re working for!” Debby rattled the door handle and I thanked myself for choosing to be less lax about locking my doors. “I’m going to call the police!” she yelled.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Please do.” That reply seemed to flummox Debby and she stopped, although she kept frowning.

  “Why are you following me?” she asked, her voice dropping down to a more reasonable tone. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Okay,” I said, opting to lie. My only alternative now that Debby blocked my path of escape was to start my car, mount the sidewalk and drive down it until I could veer back onto the street and fully escape. But that was definitely breaking all the rules. I wouldn’t put it past Debby to take her own photo of me and file a complaint. That would beset me with problems that only Garrett could get me out of and I cringed at the idea of begging him. “I am following you,” I told her. “I’ve been hired by a couple who think you’re their long-lost daughter.”

  She pulled a face. “Seriously? What a load of crap!”

  “It’s true, really. They hired me a week ago after seeing you on the street and they firmly believe you’re their long-lost daughter. They wanted me to verify it, if it’s true. Are you adopted?” I asked.

  “No! You’ve met my parents. I’m not adopted! Is that why you’ve been pestering Mr. Queller? To get to me?”

  “Absolutely,” I continued, smoothly easing into the lie. “I knew someone on the force and used them to get to you.”

  “That’s terrible! How could you harass that poor man just to get to me? You could have simply asked.”

  “Now I am. I apologize, sincerely. I’ll let
the family know that you’re not adopted so you couldn’t possibly be their real daughter. It’s a shame too because they are a very wealthy couple with no one else to share their waning years. I think they wanted to make sure all their money, investments, and a very, very large house went directly to a family member, once they passed, which could be very soon,” I added. I was watching her closely to see if the lure of vast amounts of cash could sway Debby into temptation but she showed no sign of greed or interest.

  “I hope they find their long-lost kid but it’s definitely not me,” said Debby. “You shouldn’t take any more of their money.”

  “I won’t. May I take a photo of you to show them as proof? Once they see that, they’ll probably realize the family resemblance is lacking.” I raised my camera but Debby put her hand up, covering the portion of window where I rested the lens.

  “No, I don’t like having my picture taken. Please go away now and stop pestering my family.”

  “I’m so sorry for any trouble I might have caused you.” I put my camera on the seat and made a show of starting the ignition. Debby stepped away from my car and I pulled out. In my rearview mirror, I saw her standing in the street, watching me drive away. She still didn’t move when I turned the corner.

  The lie I told came to me hastily but the information she provided was useful. I was positive Debby believed she wasn’t adopted. Even the chance of being the only heir of wealthy parents didn’t spur her to think of the possibility she could be theirs. If she were a liar, and really wasn’t Debby, wouldn’t she have leapt at the opportunity to get a payday from innocent people who possibly couldn’t verify her identity in the limited time frame I suggested? Then, another thought came to me: if she were really Debby, why didn’t she admit to being adopted, or maybe even try and wheedle a little more information from me about the fantasy rich parents?

  The adamant stance that she wasn’t adopted stuck me as strange unless she also shared her parents’ view on private family matters. She didn’t look surprised at my questions, just a little perplexed.