Chapter 40

Jess

Back out in the bullpen, Shane follows me to my desk. He runs a hand through his red hair, making it stand on end. He looks glum.

"We had to let Jack go," I say, giving him an awkward pat on the back. "There was nothing to hold him on."

"I know. What a douche, though. Imagine being more worried about your money than someone you supposedly loved being missing, possibly dead."

"If he did it, we'll find out. He won't get away with it."

Shane pulls out his phone, checks the time. "We have a meeting with Galloway in five minutes. You coming?"

"Yup."

"Hey, wait." His eyes pop as he stares at his phone. "Just got Theo Moriarty's autopsy report."

"What's it say?"

Shane's eyes scan his phone. "Let me print it out. I'll see you in the meeting room."

I grab a cup of coffee for myself and Shane and head into the meeting room. It's getting late. Someone's ordered pizza, and my stomach grumbles, but I ignore it.

I sit at the far corner of the conference table. Shane hustles in behind me. As the lead detective, he sits at the head of the table. He has a laptop and a handful of loose papers. I slide the coffee across to Shane.

Thank you, he mouths.

Khandi enters, as well as Stan Symonds and Alec West, midlevel detectives who've been pulled in to try to clear the case in time. Last is Lieutenant Galloway. My gut cramps with nerves when she sits next to me. Her face is already crumpled in a scowl. I clench and unclench my fists, my leg jiggling.

Shane jumps right in. "I spoke with Theo Moriarty's wife yesterday. She has an alibi and has definitely been in Boston all year. She isn't our killer. I also spoke with BPD, and it turns out Theo has quite the rap sheet. Fraud. Larceny. Burglary. Even assault. More recently, he was running drugs for a local mob boss called Ronny DeLuca. Any of those guys he worked with could've wanted him dead."

"But you don't think that's the case," Galloway states.

"Honestly?" Shane's gaze flicks to mine. "I still like Pete Harper for all this. However, Jess found some compelling evidence this morning that shows Laura Harper embezzled funds from Jack O'Brien's company. So Jack O'Brien's high on my list again."

"If Theo and Laura were working together," Symonds says, "things could've gone sour fast. Maybe she killed him."

"Or Pete killed him," Shane argues. "He finds out Laura's having an affair with her old college boyfriend. He kills Theo in a jealous rage, hides his body. But Laura finds out, confronts him. They argue on the way home from the Christmas party. Somehow it leads to the accident, and that's when he snaps. A self-righteous family annihilation. He killed Laura and Ella, then dragged their bodies into the woods."

"Those woods were searched extensively," Galloway interjects.

Shane shrugs. "A lot of places to hide bodies out there."

I remember thinking the same thing.

"Except there's no evidence Laura was having an affair," I say, " or that Pete had ever hurt her. Dr. Patel, who treated Laura's dislocated shoulder, said Laura exhibited no signs of being afraid or nervous around Pete," I say. "And there were no signs of previous abuse, old fractures or wounds."

"Laura left the hospital without being discharged," Shane counters. "And Dr. Patel didn't believe Laura was being truthful about falling on wet pavement."

Frustration bubbles under my tongue. "You're still not accounting for Alice. Why didn't he kill her, then?"

"It was an accident leaving her alive. He didn't know she'd escaped into the forest."

"What'd Dr. Arquette's autopsy report say?" Galloway cuts into our squabbling.

"We're bringing in a forensic anthropologist to help establish the exact time and cause of death, but obviously that could take a while." Shane taps the report on the table. "What we have from Dr. Arquette is preliminary."

Dr. Arquette is one of the best medical examiners in the country. He moved to Black Lake a few years ago from Seattle, where he was well respected in his field. He's extremely precise, scientific, methodical in his methods, but even he has his limitations. Apparently bones are one of them.

"Dr. Arquette says that Moriarty was shot once in the chest—that's the bullet we recovered—and once in the head," Shane says. "However, the gunshot wound to the head isn't what caused the damage to his skull. His head was crushed by something. A fall, maybe, or he was hit by something."

"So somebody hit him over the head, incapacitated him, then shot him?" My hands have gone to my thigh, kneading at the ache that's settled there.

"Impossible to tell which happened first, due to the advanced state of decomp. He could've been shot and then hit on the head, or hit by a car or a bus and then shot, or vice versa, for all we know. Dr. Arquette did say the bullet left a pretty small hole, like from the revolver in Laura's painting, although we don't have confirmation on that. But it's the hit that caused the skull to cave in."

I feel a sudden jolt at his words, a creeping realization dawning on me. I glance at Khandi, whose eyes have gone wide.

"The ballistics report ...," I begin, then stop.

"What ballistics report?" Shane's voice has hardened.

All eyes in the room swivel to me. My cheeks blaze. I forgot to tell Shane about the ballistics report after Khandi called me. Last night I went home, did my whiskey routine, and spent the night baking, working hard not to think about Mac or Isla.

I clear my throat. "It's my fault. Khandi called yesterday to tell us that the bullet recovered in Theo's body matched the gun hidden in Laura Harper's painting. I tried to call you, but ..."

"I'm sorry, Shane." Khandi bites her lip, worried. "I did cc you on the email, but I should've called you, too."

Shane's jaw spasms, betraying his annoyance. The tension is as thick as leather. "I haven't had a chance to check my email today. It isn't your fault, Khandi."

I bristle, taking the implication to be that it's mine. I open my mouth to snap back, but Galloway speaks up, trying to get us back on track. "So Laura killed Theo?"

"Maybe," Khandi says, eyes lighting up. "But here's the interesting thing."

She tells them what she told me: that the gun had been stolen from Black Lake Sporting Goods the summer before the Harpers went missing.

"I did some digging, and it turns out that Maya Shepherd, Alice Harper's best friend, was fired from that store after a robbery that was assumed to be an inside job."

"Maya Shepherd. Shit." Shane rubs his forehead. "Have we been looking in the wrong place the whole time?"

I'm about to say something when there's a shift in the air. An electric buzzing starts inside my skull, pressure building in my head. And then a sound, a beeping, like a dying fire alarm battery.

It's the same sound Alice said she heard that night in the car.

Someone's saying my name, but I don't answer because there's Isla, sitting in the chair to my right. When she speaks, her voice is urgent.

"You have to hurry, Mommy. You don't have much time."

And then, abruptly, she disappears.

When I look up, the room is emptying. West throws a look over his shoulder at me, like I've lost my mind.

"Let's go, guys," Shane says. "We've got four days to solve this. Clock is ticking."

I grab my cane and get to my feet, look around for Isla. That sound, what did it mean?

I limp back to my desk.

"Lambert!"

Behind me, Galloway's sliding her coat on. "Come with me."

I follow her out to a small courtyard at the back of the station, expecting her to light into me. Maybe she'll fire me. I probably deserve it.

Galloway pulls out a vape, presses the button, and takes a long drag. A rich, luscious scent fills the courtyard.

"Is that butter?" I ask, surprised.

She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You found my weakness. Can't eat it 'cause my cholesterol's too high, so I vape it." Galloway's breath fogs in the cold air. "You know, Rivero warned me about you. She's too damaged for this job were his exact words. You don't listen to orders, don't play well with others, get too emotionally invested."

I lean on my cane, releasing some of the pressure in my bad leg. "Yeah, sounds like something a misogynist would say."

Galloway laughs. Actually laughs! "Exactly what I thought. Hard enough being a woman in a male-dominated job."

She takes another drag, exhaling in a long whoosh, bangs lifting off her forehead. Again, for the briefest second, I catch a glimpse of the scar near her temple. She sees me looking and taps the scar.

"That there? I got involved with a bad group of people in high school. I ran away. Lived on the streets for a while. I refused to tell my parents what was going on. I was too proud. A woman beat me up for my last tampon, can you believe it? She almost killed me. It was a wake-up call. A friendly doctor contacted my parents, and they took care of me until I was back on my feet again."

She lets her bangs fall back. "Look, I'm your boss in there, but I'm saying this as a friend out here. Woman to woman. Being a detective is about teamwork. You can't do it on your own, Lambert. Not this job. Not life. We need people."

She takes another buttery hit on her vape, closes her eyes as she lets the taste linger on her tongue. "Now. You've got four days before I call the FBI in for help and you guys lose this case. Two if you take the weekend off. What are you going to do about it?"

I don't have a chance to answer because Khandi bursts into the courtyard, her cinnamon-colored twists flying. "Lieutenant! I've got something."

"Let's have it."

"The DNA from that fingernail we found on Theo's body? It isn't from Maya Shepherd."