Chapter 32

Melender slid her omelet onto a plate next to two slices of buttered toast. Her breakfast plate in hand, she stepped around the Trents’ cat, who had sprawled in a patch of late afternoon sun. She couldn’t wait to introduce Goliath to the orange tabby named Bo, but her cat needed some more time to adjust to his new surroundings in the downstairs apartment.

“I wish I could sleep more.” It had been hard to fall asleep this morning following her overnight shift. She eyed the cat for a moment, but the feline didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

After a quick blessing over the food, Melender dug in, hoping the meal would revive her sluggish brain. Brogan had taped a note to her door alerting her that Livingston was helping them. Surely that meant the detective thought justice had not been served with her conviction, but she couldn’t quite banish the small voice that said maybe Livingston simply wanted what everyone else did—for her to reveal the whereabouts of Jesse’s body.

Her cell phone rang. As Brogan’s name flashed on the screen, a smile blossomed on her face. “Hello?”

“I was hoping you were awake.” Brogan’s excitement hummed through the phone. “I’m about ten minutes away. Can you be ready to go when I get there?”

Melender shoved her messy hair back. She always showered when she got home from work in the morning, but she had yet to get dressed. “I think so. What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.” Brogan clicked off before Melender could question him.

After quickly finishing her meal, she dumped her plate in the dishwasher, then dashed for the stairs. Nine minutes later, she buckled her seatbelt in Brogan’s SUV. “What’s going on?”

Brogan grinned at her. “You’ll see.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

When he shook his head, she playfully slapped his arm. “Brogan, that’s not fair.”

His expression turned serious. “If I explain it, it won’t make as much sense as if you hear it. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you trust me?”

“I suppose so.” His words sent the butterflies in her stomach racing at top speed. She pressed a hand over her midsection, but it didn’t help to calm them.

The two rode in silence until Brogan pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript building. “Where are we?”

“One of the labs that processes evidence for the Fairfax County Police Department.” Brogan parked in a visitor’s slot, then opened his door.

Melender joined him on the sidewalk. “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see.” Brogan reached back and grabbed her hand. The unexpected gesture warmed her insides but did little to settle the butterflies.

In the lobby, he strode to the receptionist and gave their names. “Detective Livingston’s expecting us.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here. If you care to wait over there…” the receptionist gestured toward a grouping of couches and club chairs around a low glass coffee table spread with magazines.

“Thanks.” Brogan led the way, then took a seat. He tugged her onto the couch beside him, angling to face her.

“Brogan, what are we doing here?” Melender stared into his blue eyes, which danced with excitement.

“Patience.” He rubbed his thumb on the top of her hand.

The physical contact tangled her nerves. Her insides were turning to mush, and she was having trouble holding onto a coherent thought.

“Your face still looks pretty raw.”

She fought the desire to lay her head on his shoulder. “The doctor gave me a prescription for ibuprofen, and it helps keep most of the pain at bay.”

“I wish I had been there.” Brogan squeezed her hand. “With our work schedules, we haven’t had much time to talk. How are you doing otherwise?”

“I’m okay.” Her eyes transfixed on the shape of his mouth as he formed a gentle smile. She drew in a deep breath to reorient her thoughts away from Brogan’s lips. If she moved her head a tad, she could easily bring her mouth into contact with his. But that was madness. Brogan wasn’t sure of her innocence. She’d watched enough dramas to know girls like her rarely ended up with guys like him.

He shifted closer to her. “You know the altercation means we must be getting closer to the truth.”

Detective Livingston cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

Melender jerked back, heat flooding her cheeks.

“Not at all.” Brogan’s voice was as unemotional as if he were discussing the weather.

She got to her feet but averted her eyes, her emotions topsy-turvy.

“Follow me.” Livingston led the way to the bank of elevators. “I got called in this morning for an unexpected development in the Williams case. This isn’t for publication yet, but it appears your cousin wants to cut a deal.”

Melender brought her gaze from the floor to the cop. “I thought Jared had confessed to sending the ransom note and picking up the money.”

“Yep, and he told us where the rest of the cash was stashed.” Livingston punched the down button. “In a safe deposit box at his credit union.”

Brogan shook his head. “That sounds like something from a crime caper movie.”

The elevator dinged, and Livingston held the door back. “You know the old saying that life imitates art.” As they stepped inside, the detective selected the B3 button. “Jared said he had information about Jesse’s disappearance, but he wanted to talk to his lawyer first.”

Melender had reached for Brogan’s hand before even realizing she’d made the gesture.

“What does he know?” Brogan interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed, sending a tingle throughout her body.

The elevator arrived at the third floor of the basement, and the door slid open. “We’ve yet to find out. He fired the lawyer his father sent and requested a public defender, who arrived at the jail about half an hour ago. My partner will give me a call after Jared and the attorney talk.”

“What was the name of the lawyer Jared fired?” Brogan let go of her hand to hold the door open.

“Let me guess. Dan Stabe?” Melender exited the elevator.

Livingston shot her a look as he stepped into the hallway. “That’s right. Wasn’t he your attorney?”

“Yes.”If you could call him that.

The detective led the way to a door close to the elevator. The small, dimly lit room held a bank of computer monitors, keyboards, and sound boards.

A woman sat with her back to the door, large headphones covering much of her head. She held up one finger at their entrance, and Livingston laid a finger on his lips to signal silence. A few seconds later, the woman removed her headphones and swiveled to face them in what Melender now recognized was a wheelchair. “Detective Livingston, I presume?”

“Ha, I haven’t heard that one before.” The cop gestured toward Brogan and Melender. “This is Brogan Gilmore, a reporter with the Northern Virginia Herald, and Melender Harman. And this is Daisy Sullivan, who I’ve heard is the best audio technician in the Commonwealth of Virginia.”

“I bet you say that to all the technicians.” Daisy smirked. “But in my case, it happens to be true.”

Livingston nodded toward Daisy. “Rumor has it the FBI has tried to poach her more than once, but for some reason, she likes her little hovel below ground too much to leave us.”

“Let’s just say my heart belongs to Old Virginny.” Daisy tapped the arm of her chair. “But what’s with the civilians in the crime lab?”

“I got clearance from my lieutenant,” Livingston said. “Since this is officially a closed case, he was willing to give us leeway on protocol.”

“All righty then.” Daisy repositioned her chair to face the computers. “I have a hot date tonight, so enough with the chitchat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Livingston chuckled. “Bob indicated the device was pretty degraded. Were you able to recover any audio?”

Daisy snorted. “Bob’s an idiot. The device was just fine for its age and location stuffed inside a rabbit.”

“Where was the device in the bunny?” Brogan pulled out his notebook.

“Smack in the middle of the bunny’s chest.” Daisy held up a small, square black box. “As you can see, it’s a pretty basic voice-activated recorder with a twenty-hour recording capacity.”

Melender stared at the device, just over an inch square. “That was inside Blue Bunny?”

“You betcha.” Daisy clicked some keys. “It’s a continual loop mechanism, so it’s set to record over itself.”

Brogan looked up from his notebook. “So it filled up the twenty hours, then started recording again?”

“That’s right. But it always recorded the date and time, so you can tell which part of the recording is from which time period.” Daisy fiddled with some of the console controls.

“Melender, any idea where the bunny came from?”

“I gave it to him on his first birthday.” An image of Jesse hugging the small stuffed animal tightly to his chest after opening the gift came to her mind. “But I had no idea it contained a recording device.”

“The packaging didn’t say so?” Livingston asked.

She bit her lip as she dredged up the memory of where she’d purchased the toy. “I bought it second-hand at a thrift store. No packaging, but it did have the original price tag on its ear, so I thought it must have been brand new.”

“Can you tell if the recordings were ever listened to?” Brogan leaned around Melender and took a closer look at the device.

She drew in a breath as the scent of soap and cedar teased her nostrils. After this case ended, she would forever associate that smell with Brogan. The knowledge ushered in a wave of sadness. Once they solved this mystery, he would politely say goodbye. After all, he had a career to resurrect, and when he had her story, there would be no need for him to stick around.

“It appears the recordings could be downloaded, but I haven’t had time to decipher if any were.” Daisy threw Livingston a look over her shoulder. “A certain someone has been pushy about hearing the audio.”

Livingston held up his hands in a who-me gesture. “Hey, I’m just trying to solve a crime.”

“A crime that’s already been solved,” Daisy shot back. “I know your reputation. You don’t like unanswered questions.”

Livingston shrugged. “I prefer hard proof to support circumstantial evidence.”

“Then you’ll be interested in listening to what I’ve managed to pull off the recorder.” Daisy put her earphones back on and hit a few buttons. “I think this little bunny recorded the murder.”