28 Days(23)
Saige nodded and watched him walk away, feeling more positive than ever that the truth possibly lay with her father and Christina, but why would they lie? Her father hadn’t wanted her to look into the past, but was that to protect her, or for his own selfish reasons? He’d never come across as selfish. In fact, he was the most selfless person she knew. Her stepmother on the other hand...
As she took her cell out of her pocket, she messaged her father to let him know that she was on her way home, and that she was bringing a guest who would stay in the guest room. No way did she want him thinking that she wanted to snuggle up with a guy, especially under his roof.
She then messaged Alex that she was ready to go and where she was. Some of what Detective Coulter Robinson had told her she would keep to herself. No way did she want Alex going off on her parents until they had time to talk.
* * *
10:00am
* * *
“Who was the woman?” were the first words out of Amber McGregor’s mouth when he slid into his chair and stared at his messy desk.
He grinned at her tone and wondered if she was jealous.
Amber, with her riot of fiery orange hair that matched the freckles dusting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, would cause his heart to race in his chest while in her presence. He spent too much time speculating what that mass of hair would feel like against his naked skin. Would it be silky soft, or rough and springy?
The sound of a throat being cleared made him snap his eyes up to Amber’s and he grinned at the blush on her face, he’d been staring at her lips. He cleared his own throat, and answered her original question, “Saige Lockwood.”
Her eyes flittered with recognition. “And the plot thickens. So what did she want?”
“To talk.” He rubbed his face, too tired to carry on with the hundred and one questions, even when he knew that she was there for a reason, and one she could have probably used the phone for.
“Do you have anything for me, Amber?”
She watched him before nodding. “Yes. When we uncovered the breast implants, only a partial serial number remained on them.” She smiled. “But, when I gave them a name, that name matched the partial...Jocelyn Peterson had breast implants just over seven years ago.”
“I hate being right,” Coulter grumbled. “But at least I know who didn’t do it.”
Amber frowned. “Right, Quinten was already in Harlington.”
He nodded. “Jocelyn lied through her teeth once Quinten had been arrested. Nothing that could be proved, outside of the fact that there’d been no official police reports of domestic violence, or disturbances—I had a gut feeling. She wanted to be the wounded party and she wanted people to feel sorry for her. She made some money off of the injured victim act when she charged for interviews. According to her, she’d been married to a murderer.” Coulter offered Amber an exhausted smile. “But the media grew tired of her and no one felt sorry for her. She was accused of knowing and keeping silent about Quinten by the press. As soon as the trial ended, she high tailed it out of town...This is the first I’ve heard of her since then.”
“I’m still waiting for some test results to come back, but I’m guessing that she’s been dead for nearly as long, around seven years.”
“I give.” He smiled, knowing that she was itching to give him a bit of a science lesson, one he probably knew already, but he loved watching Amber become animated.
“When a body is buried in the ground, and left, once it starts decomposing the chemistry of the soil changes significantly, which means—”
“You’ll be able to match up the year of death by how much the soil has changed.”
“You got it in one, Detective.” Amber grinned, and it was only when his captain cleared his throat beside his desk that he realized he was grinning just as wide back.
Between a half cough and half laugh, he managed to wipe whatever his boss thought he saw from his face. He was too old for that crap anyway, which he needed to be reminded of often when Amber was around.
She was a breath of fresh air to his old ass—mid-thirties to his late forties.
“You have an appointment at the prison this afternoon,” his Captain stated. “Tell him about Jocelyn and when you’re done, question the brother next.”
Already planned.
“That’s on the agenda,” he replied, only just stopping himself from asking if there was anything else.
“You’ve got a couple of hours until the interview so I suggest you make a move.” The man glanced at Amber and then him.
“I’ll go back to the morgue.” Amber glared at the captain, not giving a shit, and why should she when he wasn’t her direct boss.
“Call me if you discover anything else,” he requested to Amber’s retreating back.
“I will.”
Once Amber left, he noticed his Captain stood gazing after her. “Easy on the eyes.”
Coulter slammed his hand down on the desk in anger at his captain’s words. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he left.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t be around for a while longer now that he had to interview the people from Jocelyn’s life. Those interviews would happen a few hours away from Tampa, in Port Jude and Harlington.