Body Of Evidence. Debra Webb
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Holcombe said, “I’ll just need you to remove your pajamas, ma’am.”
It wasn’t until then that Marissa remembered she was still wearing her pj’s. Rather than answer Holcombe, she returned to the closet and found another pair of jeans and a University of Illinois T-shirt. While the officer stood by, she stripped off her pj’s and dropped them into the waiting bag.
“I’ll need your underwear too, ma’am.”
Naked save for her underwear, Marissa went back to the closet, Holcombe on her heels, and snatched another pair of panties from the drawer. She slipped off the pair she was wearing and quickly shimmied into the clean ones. While Holcombe readied the bags for turning over to one of the forensic techs, Marissa quickly dragged on the jeans and a T-shirt. She’d already packed her sneakers, so she pulled on a pair of thong sandals. With the officer waiting for her, evidence bags in hand, she abruptly remembered she would need pj’s, too. She grabbed a pair and stuffed them into her bag with the rest.
With her bag hanging over her shoulder, she exited the bathroom and walked straight up to Nader. The coroner had arrived and was examining the body.
The body. It sounded so clinical. This was the man with whom she had thought she would spend the rest of her life...
“May I leave now?” She kept her gaze carefully averted from the activities across the room.
“You can.” He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a business card. “Call me if you think of anything else.” When she’d taken the card, he added, “I will have more questions, and there’s the official statement you’ll need to come downtown and make, so keep me informed of your location.”
Marissa nodded and hurried from the room. She felt sick and disgusted and aggrieved. How the hell had this happened? When she went to sleep last night, her biggest concern had been how to extract William from her life. Now she had to worry about whether she was a murder suspect.
Her heart hurt for William. She would never have wished him dead.
Downstairs, yet another new arrival stood near the stone fireplace perusing the framed photographs there. This one was male and tall, with sandy blond hair. He wasn’t like the others. He wore well-loved jeans, a sky blue shirt and a tan summer-weight suit jacket, but it was the cowboy boots that really set him apart from the others. He turned as she descended the last step and thrust out his hand, looking for all the world like a character from a modern-day Western movie who’d just stepped off the screen and into her living room.
“Lacon Traynor,” he said, “from the Colby Agency.”
Marissa took the final steps between them and accepted his hand for a quick shake. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when Eva mentioned calling the Colby Agency, but this towering, cowboy-boot-wearing guy was not it. He looked vaguely familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t place him.
She finally found her voice. “Have we met?”
He gestured for her to follow him toward the kitchen. Her graystone was three stories and quite deep, but very narrow. When you walked in the front door you could see all the way out the back, with nothing but the staircase with the powder room tucked beneath it to hamper the flow. Beyond her kitchen was a set of French doors that led onto a rear deck. Beyond the deck was the small driveway. No garage, just a driveway. She was immensely grateful for something beyond street parking. A garage was on her wish list.
“We may have run into each other at the Edge when I was working with Bella and Dr. Pierce.”
Now she remembered. She’d seen him once with Dr. Pierce during that awful business about his deceased wife. She remembered thinking then that this guy looked like a sheriff from a modern-day Western. Ruggedly handsome and utterly capable. She hoped he could help her the way Bella Lytle had helped Dr. Pierce, and Todd Christian had rescued Eva.
“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested.
She was more than ready to do that. In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Traynor took her bag and led the way out onto the deck and down to where her car was parked. He walked right past her vehicle and to the alley.
She followed, too overwhelmed to put up a fuss. “Where do we go from here?”
“My car. They’ll want to go over yours at the lab.”
Marissa hissed a disgusted sigh. They were taking over her entire life. Not that she actually minded, as long as it would help find William’s killer.
A killer who had been in her home. Fear tightened around her throat.
She waited until they were seated in Traynor’s car and he’d driven away before she said as much.
“Until they’ve collected all the evidence they believe they can find and have ruled you out as the shooter, they’re going to be all over you and your property. You might as well get used to that now.” He sent her a sidelong glance. “The good news is that while ruling you out, they’ll also be looking for the actual perpetrator. It’s no fun, but it’s the way it works.”
Marissa closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. She was so tired.
“Why don’t you tell me why someone would want to make it look as if you killed your ex-husband?”
Marissa’s eyes snapped open. Good God, he was right. The entire setup was about making her look responsible for William’s death. But who would do that? Other than her friends at work, she had none. Her social life had fizzled out during her final years of marriage to William. He’d chased away every friend they’d ever had.
“I have no idea.” Why did this have to happen now? Her life was finally headed in the direction she wanted, and this insanity had to descend upon her? What had William gotten himself into that someone would want to murder him?
“Eva filled me in on your past with Bauer. Officer Tolliver brought me up to speed on your statement, so I’m not going to make you repeat any of that for now.”
Thank goodness. She’d already repeated it twice.
“Since his release from prison, have you kept up with Bauer’s activities?”
“No. I tried to evict him from my life, but he still showed up every so often to antagonize me.”
“So you don’t know how he made money or who his associates were?”
“No.” God, she’d thought she was doing the right thing distancing herself, and suddenly it felt as if all the things she didn’t know were coming back to haunt her. “He sold the condo when he went to prison. Honestly, I don’t even know where he lives.”
Saying the words out loud made her feel all the guiltier. How could she have been married to the man for five years and not know where he was living the day he was murdered?
What kind of person did that make her?
“No worries,” Traynor assured her. “We can track down all that information. But first, I’m taking you to breakfast. You need to eat.”
“I’m really not hungry.”
He flashed her a smile. “Maybe not, but I’m starving.”
At that moment, the reality of her predicament settled fully upon her.
How in the world would she ever prove that she hadn’t killed her ex-husband?
He had been murdered in her bed. The murder weapon was her gun. The security guard from the Edge could confirm that she and William had had a heated exchanged less than twenty-four hours ago.
She swung her gaze back to the man behind the wheel.
Her only hope was this cowboy who wanted to eat before they got down to business.
She was in serious trouble.