Sara stood with her hand on the knob about to come in. She smiled brightly.
“Thank you for opening the door for me, sweetheart. I really appreciate it,” she said.
“Where were you?”
“Picking up my car from impound.”
She sounded so nonchalant that Cullen wanted to shake her. Like it wasn’t any big deal that her car had been impounded. She slid her hands in her pockets and stepped out onto the porch.
“Good. I’m glad you got it. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here. Sara, I’ve got to know, do you care about me at all?”
Sara’s brow furrowed.
“Of course, silly. Why do you ask?” She leaned against Cullen. “Want to come on in and let me prove how much I care?”
Cullen took a step back.
“No. Not tonight. And if you really cared about me you’d quit snorting coke.”
“I’m trying.”
“Not hard enough.”
“What do you mean?” Sara asked.
“When was the last time you had some coke?”
“Last night. I don’t even have any in the house.”
Liar, Cullen wanted to scream at her but didn’t want her to know she’d been snooping.
“Okay. Good. I’ll be over tomorrow after work. I’m not in the mood to be here tonight.”
“Cullen? What’s going on? You can’t still be upset about last night?”
“Maybe. I don’t think so. I don’t know. All I know is I don’t want to be around you until you’re clean. So let me know when that happens.”
The dark sky and pouring rain suited Cullen’s mood. She drove to her favorite pub, ordered a burger and a beer. She finished her burger and her beer, paid her tab, and drove home.
Alone in her house, she let her mind wander to a very dark place. What if Sara was so addicted to cocaine that she couldn’t quit? What if their relationship was over? The thought made Cullen sad. She’d miss Sara, even though their whole relationship seemed to have been built on lies. She’d still enjoyed their time together. They’d had fun. There was no denying that.
And Cullen couldn’t think of another lover she’d had who could compare to Sara in bed. Sara was so easy to make love to, so incredibly easy to please.
Was that over? Would she never hold Sara again? She was about to pour herself a whiskey to drown her sorrows when her doorbell rang. She almost ignored it since she really didn’t want to see Sara at that moment. Something made her open the door, though, and there stood Julia with a twelve-pack of beer under her arm.
“I figured it was my turn to buy,” Julia said. “May I come in or is this a bad time?”
Cullen desperately wanted to be alone but couldn’t find it in her heart to turn Julia away. She stepped back, away from the door, and reached for the beer.
“Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
Julia shook off the rain in the entry hall. Cullen liked how Julia always looked so nice dressed in casual clothes. Sure, she always wore a blazer, like the navy one she had on, but she also usually wore jeans with them.
And she looked amazing that night. The blazer really brought out the blue in her eyes. Her blond hair was matted to her head, probably from standing on Cullen’s front stoop. She was sopping wet.
“Let me get you a towel,” Cullen said.
“I’m fine.”
“Your hair though. Wouldn’t you prefer to dry it? You’re going to catch your death of pneumonia.”
“That’s an old wives’ tale.” Julia laughed. Cullen liked the sound of it. It wasn’t tinkly like Sara’s, whose laugh washed over her and caressed her. It was different, genuine. And it resonated with Cullen nonetheless. “But I’ll still take that towel.”
Cullen went into the bathroom and got a towel for Julia. She handed it to her and watched as she dried her hair. She came to her senses and realized she was staring.
“I’d better put these in the refrigerator,” Cullen said.
She went into the kitchen and put the beer in her pathetically empty fridge. She’d better do some shopping soon. She could cook when she had to, and if she and Sara were kaput, she’d have to.
“I like your kitchen.” The sound of Julia’s voice startled Cullen, who almost dropped the beers she was holding.
“Jesus, woman. You almost gave me a heart attack. You must walk like a ninja.”
Julia laughed again.
“Sorry. Hazard of the job. Sneaking up on people is kind of something I do.”
“I understand. Just try to make some noise when you’re here, okay?”
“Will do. Now, about that beer?”
Cullen popped the top and handed it to her. She opened her beer and followed Julia into her living room.
“So, seriously, why are you here? I don’t have any more info on Sara, I swear.”
“Why are you here and not at her place?”
“I needed a break.”
“Yeah?” Julia looked around the living room. Her gaze landed on the bar. “Were you about to have some good stuff before I got here?”
“I was. Would you like some whiskey?”
“Not on a work night. Maybe this weekend?”
“Sure.”
“Great.” And she smiled at Cullen again.
“Yeah,” Cullen continued. “I really need to clear my head and think a good long time about what I’m doing with Sara. You know, what do I want? What are my expectations? What am I willing to settle for?”
“And how long will you wait for her once she’s in prison.”
“It’s her first offense, at least that’s what she tells me. Surely her sentence won’t be that long.”
“I’m not talking about the coke charges, Cullen.”
Cullen was confused, then the light dawned.
“You’re talking about the murder charge.”
“I am. I won’t rest until she’s behind bars.”
Cullen was tired of talking about Sara. She didn’t want to think about her anymore.
“It’s my turn to ask you a question,” Cullen said. “Why are you here? What possessed you to bring a twelve-pack to my place?”
“I hope you don’t mind. I had so much fun last night. But figured we’d drunk all your beer, so I thought I’d show up with some. I mean, you seem okay with it?”
“Oh, I’m fine with it. I just wonder what you would have done if I was at Sara’s.”
“Gone home. Simple as that.”
Cullen arched an eyebrow at her but didn’t say a word. She took a drink of her beer and set it down. She liked Julia, always had. But she was trying to pin a murder on her girlfriend, and she didn’t appreciate that. She was torn. She sure had enjoyed taking a trip down memory lane with her the night before, but what did Julia really want from her? She decided not to dig too deep. Instead, she’d just relax and have fun. What could it hurt?
“You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden. Are you sure you’re okay with me just showing up? Maybe we should exchange phone numbers so I can text you when I feel like a few beers,” Julia said. Sure, she’d already looked up Cullen’s number in the database, but she hoped Cullen wouldn’t remember she’d called her once before.
She sat waiting with bated breath. She knew she’d been taking a chance showing up unannounced, but she’d really wanted to see Cullen again. Cullen had been two years behind her in school, so while she knew who Cullen was, and who wouldn’t, they hadn’t been close. Hell, they hadn’t even been friends, just acquaintances. Fellow jocks flanking the outskirts of the student body.
But Julia had always noticed the way Cullen had looked at her with a mix of admiration and something else. Did Julia dare to think it was affection? And now Cullen was involved with a suspect in one of Julia’s investigations. She was glad their paths had crossed again as she really liked Cullen. Though she didn’t like the circumstances of their renewed acquaintance. Was it possib
le that a friendship could blossom under said circumstances? And why was it so important to Julia that one did?
“We can exchange numbers,” Cullen said. “I think that’s a good idea. Although you’re welcome to bring beer by anytime I’m here. My door’s always open.”
Julia breathed a sigh of relief and took a swig of beer.
“Sounds good,” she said.
She heard the front doorknob turn and instinctively reached for her weapon. Cullen stood and held her hand up so she lowered her own hand. She stood as Cullen walked to the entry hall.
“What are you doing here?” she heard Cullen ask.
“Whose car is that in the driveway?”
That voice was unmistakably Sara’s.
“None of your business,” Cullen said. “You need to leave.”
“Are you two-timing me, Cullen Matthews?”
“Hell, no. You’re the one with a mistress, not me.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Sara said.
“No, I know that cocaine is your mistress. Now, go back home.”
Sara stormed into the living room where Julia stood shell-shocked. She had no idea what her presence would do to Cullen and Sara’s already fragile relationship.
“You! What in the hell are you doing here?”
“I came over to have a beer with Cullen.” Julia struggled to keep her voice calm. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“So now she’s your best buddy?” Sara whirled on Cullen. “You do realize she’s trying to frame me for murder?”
“I’m not trying to frame you.” The words were out before she could stop them. Damn it. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut?
“Are you going to help her?” Sara said. “Are you working with the enemy? Is that why you’re avoiding me? Guilt?”
“No such thing.” Cullen’s voice was like ice. “You need to leave. Now.”
“I’ll go,” Julia said.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Cullen said.
“Is she you’re new girlfriend?” Sara said. “Butch on butch. Ew.”
“Leave.” Cullen took Sara by her upper arm and guided her roughly to the door. “And don’t come back all coked up again. It doesn’t help your cause.”
She slammed the door and locked it.
“Doesn’t she have a key?” Julia said.
Cullen jumped.
“Damn it. Don’t sneak up on me. And no. She doesn’t have a key.”
“Okay, well, the mood is pretty much soured. Maybe I will just go home.”
“Negatory. I need a drinking buddy now more than ever. Come on back to the living room.”
Cullen draped an arm over her shoulders and walked her back. Julia lowered herself onto the couch and reached for her beer. Cullen sat in the recliner.
“I’m sorry,” Julia said. “I feel like I’ve really messed things up for you two.”
“Nope. She’s the one messing things up. You’re fine, honest. Let’s not talk about her anymore. I’d like to forget about her, at least for a while.”
“Great. Well, I’m sure I can help with that. Hey, do you still play poker?”
Cullen smiled, her dimples prominent.
“Oh, my God. Do you remember the poker games we’d play on the bus? I didn’t think you paid any attention.”
“I remember. I just never knew if you were any good.”
“I wasn’t.” Cullen laughed. “But I’ve gotten better.”
She got some cards and poker chips out from behind the bar.
“Come on. Let’s go to the dining room and play.”
Nothing in the world sounded better to Julia as she grabbed their beers and joined Cullen.
Chapter Six
Early the following morning, Julia was at the evidence room at the precinct.
“Good to see you, Detective. What can I get for you?”
“Good morning, Marge. I’d like to take a look at the evidence from the Montague case. The items from the hospital, please. Specifically, the IV pole, morphine bag, and drip line.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone, Detective. Sign here and I’ll go get them for you.”
Julia signed the form and waited impatiently while Marge brought out the items.
“Are you going to have them long?” Marge asked.
“I’ll try to have them back in a few hours.”
Everything was bagged and tagged to seal them from contamination. Julia didn’t care; she’d bag it all again when she was through. She took everything up to the lab.
“Hey, Mike.” She greeted the young man working with the test tubes. “I’ve got a favor to ask you.”
“Sure thing, Detective. What do you need?”
“I want you to go over these items again, to make sure we didn’t miss any fingerprints. We’ve got a suspect now so I want to be sure we didn’t miss anything.”
“Sure thing, when do you need it by?” Julia stared at him flatly. “Got it. I’ll work on them right now.”
To protect the chain of evidence, Julia stayed in the lab and watched Mike meticulously go over every piece.
“Hey, Detective, I think I found something.”
Julia hurried to his side. She looked through the magnifying lens and saw, without a doubt, that there was a partial fingerprint on the drip. It was on the small switch that had been opened to release the morphine that would kill Montague.
“Excellent.” She patted Mike on the back. “You do such good work. Now lift the print for me, please.”
When she was through with her successful trip to the lab, she bagged everything up and took it all back to Marge, who breathed a sigh of relief when it was returned.
“Told you I’d bring it back.” Julia winked at Marge, who could have been her mother.
“I never know with you. Is it even worth putting them back or are you just going to make me get them out again?”
Julia laughed. “Go ahead and put them away. I think I have what I need right now.”
Julia ran the print herself and came up empty. No matches. How was that possible? She knew Sara was a match. She knew it in her heart. She looked at the print. Damn it. She hated to admit it, but the print was too much of a partial. She’d need more if she was going to nail Sara.
She took her laptop to a local diner and ordered coffee and a greasy breakfast. She needed to watch the amount of beer she’d been drinking as she couldn’t let it affect her work or replace her workouts. She also couldn’t get used to sleeping in Cullen’s spare room, regardless of how comfortable it was.
Comfort. That was the big problem. She was too comfortable with Cullen. Far too comfortable. As she finished her breakfast, she made a vow not to go back to Cullen’s for a while. She had a case to investigate and she didn’t need to be hanging around with a suspect’s girlfriend.
She tossed some cash on the table, grabbed her still unopened laptop, and headed back to the office. She poured herself a cup of the tepid brown liquid that passed for coffee and settled in at her desk.
Julia pulled up the still photos from the hospital again. She enlarged one and zoomed in on the shoes. Surely she’d be able to tell if the person was male or female based on their shoes, right? But the tennis shoes were nondescript. Frustrated, she took a sip of coffee and stared at the screen. She was missing something; she just didn’t know what.
Then she had an idea. She took a screen print of the shoes and printed it off. She called a judge and requested a search warrant. In a few hours, she had the warrant in hand. She had two uniformed officers come with her and she drove out to Bidwell.
She rang the doorbell.
“Go away! Leave me alone!” Sara was obviously in no mood for visitors.
“Open up,” Julia said calmly. “Don’t make us break down the door.”
“Give me a minute.”
Julia looked at her watch. Three minutes later, she rang the doorbell again and, to her surprise, Sara
opened the door.
“Ms. Donovan, how are you?” But she really didn’t need to ask. Sara’s pupils were like saucers, her nose was red, and she had telltale red wine stains on her lips and teeth. She looked horrible.
“What do you want?”
Julia handed her the search warrant and turned to the officers. She had given each of them a copy of the picture before they left the station.
“You know what you’re looking for,” Julia said. “Tear the place apart if you need to.”
“Wait,” Sara said. “No need to tear anything apart. Just tell me what you’re looking for.”
“We’re looking for a pair of white Nike Fingertrap training shoes. Do you own a pair?”
“I have no idea. What do they look like?”
Julia showed her the picture of the shoes with the crosshatch over the arches.
“These look familiar?”
Sara blanched.
“Sure, I have a pair. What of it?”
“I believe they were worn by whoever killed Donald Montague.”
“I’ve told you I didn’t kill Donnie.”
“And what? I’m just supposed to take your word for that? Why don’t you go get the shoes for me to take to the station?”
Sara glared at Julia before turning down the hall. Julia nodded at one of the uniforms to follow her. They were back in no time with Sara’s shoes and Julia slid them into a plastic evidence bag.
“Wait. When will I get those back?”
“I have no idea and, to be honest, that really should be the least of your worries right now.”
Julia took the shoes and the other officers and left the house. Back at the station, she went up to see Marge.
“What do you have there?” Marge asked.
“Shoes. They’re evidence in the Montague murder case.”
“You act like that’s the only open case we have right now.”
“I know we have others, but I’m very close to solving this one. I can feel it.”
“Suit yourself. Sign your life away and I’ll put these with the rest of the evidence that’s sitting there collecting dust.”
Scene of the Crime Page 5
