Snakebit

by Linsey Lanier

  She let out a long sigh. “Colby texted me this morning. She’s worried about Mackenzie.”

  “Did she give any specifics as to why?”

  “Not really.” She pulled out her phone and read the text. “I’m concerned about Mackenzie. She’s been so listless lately. I don’t know what’s wrong. Any ideas?”

  “You think she knows about Tannenburg.”

  It didn’t take clairvoyance to guess that. It was something they’d both been worried about for a month.

  “Colby and Oliver have been doing their best to keep Mackenzie away from local media sources,” Parker reminded her.

  She shook her head. “I talked to her about a week ago. At the party where Coco and Estavez announced they’re having a baby. On the back deck. She was staying with Wendy and came through the bushes.”

  “And?”

  “She looked pale. She said she wasn’t interested in coaching Wendy anymore.”

  Parker nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t buying it.

  “She didn’t say anything about looking for her father,” Miranda added.

  “She was keeping that a secret for a long time.”

  “I don’t think she’s still looking for him. I can tell. A mother’s instincts.”

  Parker pondered that a moment. “It’s not likely the news got out. No one heard Tannenburg’s confession about what happened in Chicago except Becker and myself.”

  That was true. “I told Chambers when he took my statement.”

  “That’s confidential information.”

  Yeah. “Unless there’s a particularly nosy reporter around. And wouldn’t that be rare,” she smirked.

  “Listless, moodiness, losing interest in an activity, none of that is unusual for a girl Mackenzie’s age. It’s hormones.”

  Miranda groaned. She didn’t want to think about hormones. There had already been one disaster with a boy. “The truth is, Parker, I’m not sure if she knows or not. I can’t just ask her.”

  “You could ask her if she’s still looking for her father.”

  “She’d see through that. And if she doesn’t know, if she got the truth out of me—” Mackenzie would be even worse off.

  “It’s a dilemma. I faced a few of those when Gen was growing up, though nothing as serious as this. Sylvia and I weren’t always sure of what to do. But we discovered sometimes if you let matters take their natural course, it turns out what you were afraid of doesn’t happen at all.”

  Let matters take their natural course? That hadn’t seemed to work for her up to now.

  “Mackenzie has your strength and courage. Whatever she knows, she can get through it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  They fell silent again and Miranda watched the tall buildings of the city she now called home come into sight. The rumble of nearby eighteen-wheelers were almost welcome to her.

  As they neared the exit leading to the office Parker exhaled. “I take it by your silence you don’t think Dr. Boudreaux’s case is worth pursuing.”

  She was glad her answer would surprise him. “On the contrary. I’m going to meet with the team as soon as we get back. I already texted them.” She held up her phone.

  His handsome face brightened. “Thank you, Miranda. Your efforts won’t be wasted.”

  She wasn’t sure of that, but she decided not to say it. She’d do her best, even if it was hopeless. “I’ll need copies of the file for the team.”

  “You’ll have them. What time is the meeting?”

  “Two.”

  He frowned. “I have a consultation with Judd then. But I can reschedule it.”

  “No need to.”

  “Why not?”

  She twisted in her seat. She didn’t want Parker there. Becker and Holloway and even Wesson would fall all over themselves trying to tell him what he wanted to hear. If she was supposed to be in charge, she needed to run things her way.

  She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “A wise man once taught me the importance of objectivity.”

  His brow rose with indignation.

  “You’re too close to this, Parker. You want too much for Boudreaux to be innocent. I want the team to look at the case without that influence.”

  He looked as if she had slapped him. Then slowly he nodded. She couldn’t tell whether he was impressed with her decision or annoyed by it.

  But she decided to take the calmness in his voice as reassurance.

  “Very well,” he said pulling into a spot. “I’ll look forward to hearing the team’s opinion.”

  Chapter Seven

  Miranda sat in the cube area of the Parker Agency lab chewing on her lip as she watched her team members.

  She had pulled out chairs and desks into the open space where they’d met during their last case. She’d shoved aside the circuit boards and wires and tablets on the countertop along the wall and, teacher-like, had laid out each team member’s copy of the file—the ones they were now reading.

  The room was silent. All she’d told them was that Parker had a new case for them. She wanted to see their reaction to the information without input from her first.

  So far, no one had said anything.

  Maybe she should have brought pastries and set them out with the copies. No, they’d just had lunch. Maybe she should have gathered them in one of the board rooms, but that had seemed too formal.

  She wasn’t good with the nuances of leadership.

  Trying to read their minds, she glanced over at Holloway.

  He sat looking uncomfortable with his lanky frame in the stiff metal chair, his long legs stretched toward the middle of the circle. His walking cane lay on the floor beside him, a reminder of the injury he’d sustained on their last case—which Miranda felt responsible for. He wore his usual coat and tie—per the office dress code. If he hadn’t always followed the rules, Miranda would have wondered if he was doing that to impress his new heart throb, the office manager—Parker’s daughter. He’d just gotten a buzz cut and his brown hair framed his head like a skullcap. She wondered if he was trying to look tough for her.

  On one side of Holloway sat Janelle Wesson. With her thick copper-penny-red hair falling in waves over her shoulders, she wore a V-neck sheath in a shade of blue so vivid, it made Miranda’s eyes water. Wesson’s brows were knit together in thought, a matching designer shoe hung over a toe she wagged up and down as she read through the papers.

  On the other side of Holloway was Dave Becker, his thick brows and big nose scrunched with intense concentration. He had on a canary yellow T-shirt emblazoned with big bold letters reading “Baby Daddy.” Jumping the gun, wasn’t he? Fanuzzi had just learned she was pregnant and had told him only a week ago, the day Coco and Estavez announced they were expecting.

  Her two best friends having babies at the same time. What was the world coming to?

  On the other side of Becker sat John Fry, Parker’s chief lab tech. He’d asked to leave her team, but she figured he might have changed his mind after they closed the last case. Besides, she was going to need his DNA skills. Along with his long scraggly hair, beard, and rumpled clothes, Fry wore his usual skeptical scowl. Only today he was in good company.

  Holloway flicked through the pages he held. “A lot of interviews here.”

  “Yep.” Miranda had noticed that when she’d passed out the copies. There were interviews with neighbors, coworkers, friends, and relatives. Despite his preoccupation with Sylvia, Parker had left no stone unturned.

  And there were police reports, the autopsy, and a ton of other data Miranda hadn’t had a chance to go over yet. Maybe she would tonight.

  Wesson held up one of the papers. “I don’t understand, Steele,” she said in her sultry voice. “This man has already been convicted. It seems like an ironclad case.”

  Wesson was holding the same summary Miranda had read in Parker’s office that morning.

  How to put it? Might as well start with the truth. There was no time for tiptoeing around.
/>   Straightening her shoulder, she tried to look like a boss. “Despite the evidence, Parker feels Dr. Boudreaux is innocent.”

  Wesson wrinkled her nose. “But there was DNA.”

  “I know.” She took a deep breath. “This case came to trial when Parker had some personal issues. He feels he didn’t give it his full attention.” That sounded reasonable enough. The team would know she was talking about the loss of his wife.

  Holloway picked up one of the papers in the folder in his lap. “Looks like Detective Judd and Detective Tan did some work on it, too, a few years ago.”

  “Yes, they did.”

  He made a sour face. “I don’t even see a list of suspects.”

  Because there was only one.

  “There are a lot of character witnesses for the doctor,” Wesson said thoughtfully.

  Holloway rubbed his buzz cut as if he missed his hair. “And you said Mr. Parker believes he’s innocent?”

  “He does. In fact, we went to visit the doctor this morning on Death Row.”

  Simultaneously everyone’s eyes grew round as the face on a ticking stopwatch.

  Wesson blinked first. “You spoke to him personally?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Same thing that’s in the summary. He insists he came home that night around nine and found his wife dead. He insists he didn’t kill her.”

  Wesson nearly gasped. “Do you believe him, Steele?”

  She didn’t want to answer that question. Doubt and uncertainty had been raging in her head ever since she’d left the prison. One minute she wanted to believe the mild-mannered herpetologist was innocent. The next she was convinced he was lying and guilty as sin.

  She put her hands in the air. “What I think doesn’t matter. What matters is solving this case.”

  Becker raised his hand sheepishly. “How?”

  She turned to him. “By any means we can.”

  “But…the DNA evidence. That’s conclusive, Steele.”

  Exactly what she’d told Parker. Deep down, she knew this was crazy. But love made you do crazy things. “If Dr. Boudreaux is innocent, then the DNA must be from someone else, right?”

  Becker pursed his lips and squinted at his open folder. “These tests were pretty thorough.”

  “But the DNA could belong to someone else, right?”

  He twisted in his seat as if he had an itch in an embarrassing place. Finally he blurted out, “Only if he had a monozygotic twin.”

  “A what?”

  This brought a snort from Fry.

  “An identical twin,” Becker explained.

  She scowled down at the smart-alecky Fry. She’d known that. She’d learned it in training, just the way Becker had. She’d just forgotten the fancy term for it. From what she’d seen so far, there was no mention of siblings. Besides, if Dr. Boudreaux had a twin, he would have been the first suspect on the list.

  Still she made a mental note to check with Parker about brothers and sisters.

  “That doesn’t matter,” she repeated. “Our assignment is to reinvestigate this case. To use the legal phrase, time is of the essence.”

  “What does that mean, Steele?” Wesson wanted to know.

  “It means we have to work fast. Dr. Boudreaux is scheduled to be executed next week.”

  Again, everyone’s eyes were round as the bagels she hadn’t brought as they stared at her in shock.

  “We’ll treat it like a cold case.”

  Holloway gave her a funny look.

  “Okay. A cold case with a deadline—a literal one. The bottom line is we’ve got to find something and soon. All we need is something to cast doubt on Dr. Boudreaux’s guilt, a stray fact or overlooked bit of evidence Estavez can use to get a stay of execution and an appeal.”

  “Good luck with that,” Fry muttered under his breath.

  Trying not to grind her teeth, Miranda turned to him. “If I can get you a DNA sample from the police, can you re-analyze it?”

  He lifted his bony shoulders. “The tests in the file looked pretty thorough. But sure, I can give it a try.”

  “Good. Now as for the rest of you, we’ll start by re-interviewing everyone.”

  Wesson looked anxious. “Everyone?”

  “And anyone else anybody can think of who wasn’t contacted before.” She strolled over to Holloway, took his file, riffled through the stack.

  There were too many to do in one day, too many to sort through now. She handed it back to him. “You and Becker focus on Charmaine’s friends and coworkers. See if you can find out if she had any enemies.”

  “You mean someone who’d want to kill her?” Becker asked.

  “Anything that would get us an appeal.” And buy them more time. “Wesson, you and I will take the doctor’s old neighbor. Let’s see if we can find any contradictions in what they said ten years ago.”

  Especially the neighbor who’d seen the doctor’s car parked across the street around the time of the murder.

  “We’ll meet back here at seven and see what we’ve come up with.”

  Becker straightened the papers neatly in his folder and got to his feet. “I love it when a plan comes together.”

  “Huh?”

  He shrugged. “We’ve been watching old A-Team movies at the house.”

  Good grief.

  Wesson let out a groan. “Oh, darn. I’ve got a date tonight.”

  Turning to her, Miranda folded her arms just about ready to blow.

  Wesson held up her hands as if she’d pulled her Beretta on her. “I’ll cancel it. Poor Horace. He was so looking forward to seeing me again. But to tell the truth, he was getting a little boring.”

  Ignoring the commentary Miranda started toward the door. “I’ve got a couple of calls to make. Meet me at the stairs in fifteen.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wesson called after her.

  Chapter Eight

  Feeling as if she’d just gone five rounds with Ronda Rousey, Miranda marched back to her office and closed the door.

  Then she saw what was on her desk. A sandwich bag and a drink.

  She sank down into the comfortable chair—appreciating its softness for a change—and opened it. Just as she thought. A Taco Loco from Ay Chihuahua! Parker knew she would skip lunch.

  Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she dug into the spicy ground beef, cheese, and salsa. But as she ate, she couldn’t help but think about Dr. Boudreaux’s dark eyes and the way they’d tugged at her heartstrings. She’d seen resignation in them, but also a plea. As if he were silently saying to her, “Help me.”

  Was he innocent? Or just a really good con artist? One that had fooled even Parker?

  Her spidey sense wasn’t telling her anything, but it didn’t work that way.

  Huffing out a breath of frustration she finished the sandwich, tossed the bag in the trash. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed Officer Chambers from her contact list. Though he wasn’t just an officer any more. She heard he’d been promoted to Sergeant after they’d worked together on the Tannenburg case.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hey there, Steele,” he said in his slow country drawl. “How you doing?”

  Miranda’s brows rose. No, “What do you want”? No, “I’m busy. Call back later”?

  “Fine,” she said cautiously and forced out, “How are you?” It felt weird to make polite chit chat with the man who had arrested her when she first came to town.

  “I heard about that case up in Kennesaw. No grass grows under your feet, does it now, Steele?”

  He chuckled, but there was respect in his tone. She guessed after the Ward Hughes case and their work on the Tannenburg case, Chambers’s opinion of her had improved.

  She chuckled back. “A girl’s got to keep herself busy. In fact, I’m already working on another case, and I’m wondering if you could help me with something.”

  “Shoot.”

  No, “I’ve got to get authorization for that.”? No, “Call me b
ack next week.”? Strange.

  She told him about Dr. Boudreaux’s situation and Parker’s role in it. She explained the damning DNA evidence. She also mentioned Estavez was Boudreaux’s defense attorney.

  “Ten years ago. That’d be long before I came on board. Evidence will probably be in warehouse storage.”

  “Do you think you can get a sample of the DNA from the file for me?”

  “That’s something Mr. Estavez would have to request.”

  “And by the time the request is processed, Boudreaux will be executed.”

  “Can’t he get a stay?”

  “Catch-22. Not without evidence. We were hoping to re-test the DNA to see if anything was overlooked.” She avoided the word “mistake.”

  Chambers blew out a breath. “That would take some jumping through hoops, Steele. Even for you and Mr. Parker.”

  “But you can manage it, right?”

  She heard him grumble and cuss under his breath.

  At last he blurted out, “You owe me, Steele.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll buy you a beer at the Gecko Club.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not making promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’ll come through. Oh, and can you have it delivered by courier to the Parker Agency?” That would save them some time.

  “Are you sure you don’t want it on a silver platter?” That was the Chambers she knew.

  “No, just the regular enclosure.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” With a sour grunt he hung up.

  She sat back with a satisfied smile. It was good to have connections. Then she glanced at her phone and saw a second text message had come in from Colby Chatham. She scrolled to it.

  You must be busy. Sorry to bother you, but did you see my earlier text?

  Colby must really be concerned about Mackenzie. Which made Miranda concerned. Anxiety and guilt had her twisting in her cushioned chair. What could she tell the woman? She didn’t want to upset her with her theories about her daughter. She didn’t have time to mull over a lengthy reply. She drummed her fingers on her glassy desk and thought about what Parker had said.