At Close Range

by Laura Griffin

  Travis was already in the lab test-firing a nickel-plated pistol into a water tank.

  “Where’d we get that?” Scott asked.

  Travis pulled off his ear protectors. “Drug raid down in Webb County.” He shook his head. “Cops recovered it from under the mattress in a baby crib, if you can believe that.”

  Scott could definitely believe it. Some people were criminally stupid.

  “I bet you a round of beers that this gun’s in the system already,” Travis added.

  “No way. Not touching that bet.”

  Scott pulled on some latex gloves and unpacked the bullet he’d retrieved from the lake. He looked at it again before stepping up to the microscope and using some putty to secure it to the stage. He examined it at five times magnification and whistled with approval.

  “Looks good?” Travis asked.

  “Yep.”

  The bullet was pristine, thanks to the soft silt of the lake. Plus Scott had handled it carefully. He’d seen way too many perfectly good slugs ruined because some ham-handed investigator dug them out of a wall or a fence post using a pocketknife. Scott never handled evidence with metal tools.

  The markings on a spent bullet were like a fingerprint. The lands and grooves were unique to each gun, which enabled investigators to link previously unrelated crimes and crime scenes. Theoretically, Scott could scan this bullet into a database maintained by the feds and hope for a match.

  But would he get one? Hard to say. If the bullet was from a drug-related homicide, he’d be willing to bet yes. But this case was different. Originally, it had seemed like a crime of passion, maybe a jealous boyfriend taking revenge. But the more Scott investigated, the more it seemed like something else entirely. Something cold and calculated that wasn’t going to be as simple as scanning a slug into the system and getting a hit.

  Scott was determined to try anyway. He would love to be able to deliver Dani some good news right now, something that might take that worried look off her face. She was under a lot of pressure, and he wanted to help her.

  Travis’s phone buzzed on the counter, and he grabbed it. “Cullen here.” His gaze darted to Scott. “No shit? Okay, we’ll be ready for it.”

  “What is it?” Scott could tell by Travis’s tone that it was something big.

  “That was Jasper with SMPD. Sounds like they found the gun.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Dani waited for Ric in front of the admissions office, and it wasn’t hard to spot him among the backpack-toting summer school students in shorts and sandals.

  “Science building’s over here,” Dani said, leading the way. “The professor said four o’clock, so we’re running late. Think he just finished a class.”

  Ric glanced at his watch, then at her. “Any more word on the gun?”

  “No. It’s not even at the Delphi Center yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Minh wanted to run it for prints first.” She rolled her eyes. “More turf wars, I’m guessing. He said he’d make it quick and then send it over there for ballistics tests. It’s a Glock nine-mil, so we’re pretty much expecting a match.”

  “And it was found in a trash can?”

  “West side of the lake at the base of the hike-and-bike trail. Maintenance worker was collecting garbage this morning, said the bag felt unusually heavy.” She glanced at Ric. “You look skeptical.”

  “Jasper told me he was going to look through all the trash bins when we worked the scene.”

  “He says he must have missed this one. You think it was dumped later, not right after the murders?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They reached the science building. Ric pulled open the door and held it for a trio of female students. One of them glanced back at him with a coy look.

  Dani smiled.

  “What?” Ric asked.

  “Nothing.”

  They crossed a crowded lobby that wasn’t much cooler than the air outside. It was an older building, with dingy linoleum floors and chipping paint, and it felt like the air-conditioning system could use an upgrade.

  “I’ve been thinking about our game plan,” Dani said as they neared the elevators. A pair of students stepped off, and she and Ric took their places.

  “You’re the boss. How do you want to do it?”

  Dani jabbed the button for the third floor. “You interview the supervisor and I’ll try to find some of their coworkers.”

  “How do you know their coworkers overlap?”

  “They were on the same research project. Tessa was his assistant. Something about chromatids and gene splicing? The professor went into it on the phone, but it was over my head.”

  “I’m sure Mia could translate it.” As one of the Delphi Center’s top DNA experts, Ric’s wife kept up with developments in the field.

  “Or maybe one of James’s colleagues here could put it into English for us,” Dani said.

  The elevator grumbled to a stop, and after a long pause the doors slid open. They stepped into a dimly lit hallway that smelled like formaldehyde.

  “Damn, this place is a dump,” Ric muttered.

  “Yeah, not exactly the Delphi Center.” Dani checked a sign on the wall and motioned for them to turn left. “He’s in three sixteen.”

  “Detective Harper?”

  They turned around to see a tall man in a white lab coat striding toward them. Bald as a cue ball, he had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched atop his head.

  He thrust out a hand at Dani. “Mike Kreznik. And you must be Detective Santos?” He shook hands with Ric, too. “You want to meet in my office? Or perhaps the conference room?”

  “Your office sounds good,” Ric said.

  “Actually, does James Ayers have an office?” Dani asked. “If so, I’d like to see it. Tessa’s, too.”

  Kreznik frowned. “Tessa didn’t have an office. Not as a research assistant.” He scratched the back of his neck. “James is just down the hall. Was.”

  “Mind if I take a look? Ric can handle the interview, if you’re short on time.”

  “Uh, sure.” Kreznik checked his watch. “Let me just—hey, Ollie.” He waved to a man at the end of the hallway. “I’d like you to meet some people.”

  The man walked over with a wary look, and Kreznik made introductions. Dr. Oliver Junger was short and paunchy, with only slightly more hair than his boss. He wore a white lab coat over jeans and a T-shirt.

  “These are the detectives investigating . . . what happened.” Kreznik cleared his throat. “They need to see James’s office.”

  Dani smiled at Junger, hoping to put him at ease. “I’d like to take a quick look around.”

  “Sure, this way.”

  She traded looks with Ric before following Junger down the hall. “Were you and James friends?”

  Junger glanced over his shoulder. “No.”

  Okay. “And did you know Tessa?”

  “I did not.”

  He stopped at a closed door where a pile of flowers and teddy bears and handwritten notes had accumulated. Junger opened the door and stepped over everything without so much as a glance. Dani followed him into the small, windowless room.

  “This is what we refer to as our junior executive suite,” Junger said drily. “I’ve got one just like it down the hall.”

  “Nice,” she said, glancing around.

  A desk, bookshelves, and a file cabinet crowded the space, hardly leaving room for anyone to stand. The bookshelves were crammed with thick volumes. Several stacks of binders sat on the end of the desk alongside a putty-colored computer. In lieu of windows, James had a pair of framed prints on the wall. Dani recognized the creation scene by Michelangelo.

  “He considered himself a Renaissance man,” Junger commented.

  She glanced back at him, detecting a bite in his tone.

  “The Creation of Adam.” He nodded at the prints. “And, of course, the Expulsion from the Garden.”

  “From the Sistine Chapel,” Dani said, and Junger’s
eyebrows arched with surprise. I went to college, too, thank you very little.

  Dani turned her attention to the file cabinet. She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and tugged them on, ignoring Junger’s frown of disapproval as she opened the top file drawer, then the bottom. Both were empty.

  “He hadn’t exactly settled in yet,” Junger said.

  “And James moved down here when?” Dani knew the answer already, but wanted to see if the victim’s coworker did.

  “Last September.”

  “And Tessa?”

  “She came later. About three months ago, I think.”

  Dani waited for more.

  “She was his research assistant at some little college in New Mexico, where he used to work. He considered her indispensable.” Junger rolled his eyes. “Or so I’m told.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and checked the screen. “Listen, Miss Harper, I teach a lab in ten minutes, so if there’s nothing else—”

  “There is. I’m wondering if you can describe their relationship.”

  He leaned against the doorframe. “Their relationship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, let’s see. They were having an affair, correct?”

  “Were they open about it?”

  He shrugged. “It was pretty obvious. To me, anyway. They sometimes left work together, took breaks together.”

  “And do you think his wife knew?”

  “No.”

  Dani tipped her head to the side. “You don’t think so?”

  “If she knew he was having an affair, I don’t think she knew it was with Tessa.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She came by here once, and I saw her and Tessa talking. I didn’t get the impression there was any animosity there.”

  Dani pulled open the top desk drawer and poked through the usual collection of pens and paper clips. No notes or scraps of paper. No loose keys or business cards or receipts that might offer a lead.

  “What about anyone else?” She glanced up. “Was James romantically involved with anyone else in the department, that you’re aware of?”

  “No.”

  “What about a student?”

  “I highly doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  Junger smiled slightly. “He was a middle-aged lab geek. Not exactly Channing Tatum.” Another glance at his phone, but he didn’t move to leave. He seemed annoyed to be here, and yet happy to bad-mouth his dead colleague.

  “Do you know if Tessa was seeing anyone else?”

  The smile faded. “No.”

  “No, she wasn’t seeing anyone else, or, no, you don’t know?”

  “I can’t be sure, but . . . no. She was all about James.” He looked away.

  Dani opened the remaining desk drawers. Notepads, a stapler, a box of pens. She gave each drawer a thorough check, but saw nothing personal stashed inside, not even the useless detritus that normally builds up in people’s desks.

  She glanced up at the professor, who was still watching her with interest.

  She definitely wanted this guy’s contact info. He had some sort of issue with the victims—or at least with James—and she had a feeling she’d be talking to him again.

  Dani’s phone vibrated with an incoming text and she pulled it from her pocket. Reynolds. He wanted her back at the station house.

  She smiled at Junger. “Thanks for showing me around. Please call us if you think of anything helpful.” She gave him a business card and then jotted down his contact information before heading back down the hall. Ric stood beside the elevator with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

  “Yeah, we’re on our way.” He gave Dani a tense look as the elevator doors opened, then ended his call as they stepped inside.

  “Lemme guess. Reynolds?”

  “Yeah. He put a rush on those prints that Minh lifted off the gun recovered from the park.”

  “He got prints? Really?” Fingerprints were worlds better than a ballistics match, second only to DNA in terms of kick-ass leads.

  “We got a hit.”

  “Yes.” She did a fist pump. “Finally, a break.”

  “The fingerprints belong to Scott Black.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Dani stepped into the observation room, which was already filled to capacity. Jasper, Sean, Ric, and Rachel Patterson, the local DA, were crowded around a video screen.

  “They just started,” Ric said as Dani pulled the door shut behind her.

  She took a spot near the wall, as far away as she could get from Rachel, whose presence here was just the latest in today’s string of unpleasant surprises.

  Ric leaned close. “He waived his right to an attorney.”

  Dani clenched her teeth and didn’t say anything as she stared at the video feed of the interview happening only a few footsteps away. Lieutenant Reynolds had his back to the camera, but Dani didn’t need to see his face to read the tension in his body language.

  “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Black?”

  Scott didn’t answer. In contrast to Reynolds, he leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched in front of him and his thumbs tucked casually into his belt loops. He looked like he was in a friend’s kitchen, not a police interrogation room.

  “Mr. Black?”

  “No, but I figure you’ll tell me.”

  Reynolds shifted a manila file folder in front of him. “A nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol was recently recovered from a crime scene.” He paused. “Our CSI lifted your fingerprints from the gun.”

  Scott didn’t respond. His blue eyes didn’t show even a flicker of interest as he gazed at the lieutenant.

  “Mr. Black? You sure you don’t want to rethink that attorney?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Dani’s chest tightened as Reynolds shifted in his chair, clearly winding up for another question.

  “Do you own a nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol?”

  “I own a lot of pistols.”

  “This one’s a Glock.”

  “A Glock, huh? ’Fraid I can’t help you there.” Scott folded his arms over his big chest. “Never had one, never will.”

  “You have something against Glocks?” Reynolds sounded defensive. Every cop in Dani’s department carried a Glock.

  “Not really my style.”

  “The most widely used firearm in law enforcement isn’t good enough for you?”

  “I carry a Sig. For accuracy and stopping power, you can’t beat it.”

  “And how long have you carried that weapon?”

  “Since BUD/S training.”

  Rachel huffed out a breath and looked at Ric. “This is a disaster.”

  “It’s a joke, is what it is,” Ric said. “The guy used to be a SEAL. He’s trained to withstand waterboarding. You think Dunkin’ Donuts in there is gonna rattle his cage?”

  Rachel glared at him. “Is this funny to you? Do you know how many times I’ve put him on the witness stand? He’s testified in seven trials in this year alone.”

  Reynolds was shuffling through his folder now. “Could you tell me exactly where you were at nine fifteen P.M. this past Sunday night?”

  “Nine fifteen P.M.”

  “That’s right.”

  “An hour before I showed up at Woodlake Park to help you people out with a crime scene.”

  “That’s right.”

  “No.”

  Reynolds leaned forward. “What’s that?”

  “No, I can’t tell you exactly where I was at that time.”

  The lieutenant shifted in his chair, and Scott watched him with a trace of amusement in his eyes, as if he might actually be enjoying this.

  “Can you tell me generally where you were?” Reynolds sounded annoyed.

  “Let’s see.” Scott rubbed his jaw. “Generally, I was on I-35 headed to Austin to meet some friends at a bar on Sixth Street.”

  “Male friends? Female?”

  “Both.”

  Rachel made a hissing sound a
nd shook her head. Dani watched her, wondering if there was something more to her reaction than the fact that one of her favorite expert witnesses was being questioned in a double homicide.

  “And did you?” Reynolds eased back in his chair. “Meet up with them, that is. Can they verify your whereabouts?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because before I got there I received a call from work directing me to a crime scene. So I turned around.”

  “And what time was this?”

  “About nine forty-five.”

  “I see. And what time did you arrive at the crime scene?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure. Probably ten ten.”

  “So, between nine fifteen and ten minutes after ten, did you see anyone who can corroborate where you were?”

  “Nope.”

  Dani flinched at his glib tone. Rachel shook her head.

  “Did you know James Ayers?” Reynolds asked, changing gears.

  “No.”

  “What about Tessa Lovett?”

  “No.”

  “Never went out with her?”

  “Nope.”

  The lieutenant took a photo from his file and slid it in front of Scott, who didn’t even glance at it. “Any chance you bumped into her somewhere, maybe bought her a drink?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Was Scott telling the truth? Dani had no idea. Women flirted with him all the time, and he probably didn’t remember all of them.

  Reynolds opened his file again. “Did you say you’ve never owned a Glock nine?”

  The lieutenant was circling back now, looking for holes in the story, or details that had changed. Dani had used the same technique on a suspect in the same damn interview room just a few hours ago. But instead of being flustered and weepy, this suspect was calm and defiant.

  And his attitude was pissing off not only the lieutenant and the DA but no doubt the chief of police, who was probably watching this interview from the comfort of his office down the hall.