To Catch a Killer(48)

“The second one is not a fact yet.” Spam sits forward. “Before we go any further I want to see every piece of evidence you have. No holding anything back.”

“Agreed.” They wait quietly while I go to the cupboard, remove the lock, and bring out my mother’s murder box, along with a small paper bag. I set everything on the floor in front of me while I slip into my gloves. Once I’m ready, I level a probing look at each of them before lifting the lid. I’m not sure if it’s the knowledge we’ve acquired or the danger we’re in, but we’re not the same as we were. We’re different.

The tie Journey found in his van is on top. I pull it out.

Journey takes it and stretches it between his hands. “I found this on the floor of my van after Miss P was killed,” Journey says.

Next I hold up the plastic sleeve containing my mother’s shirt. “My mother’s shirt has been in this box for fourteen years. It’s missing a tie exactly like that one.”

Lysa curls into a ball, hugging her knees. “Wow.”

Spam snaps her fingers and points at me. “Motive? Why would someone do that? Why now? Why leave behind a trophy he kept for fourteen years?”

I gently pack the shirt and the tie back in the box. Not sure I have an answer for her.

“Come on,” Spam says. “You always say motive first.”

“He didn’t mean to leave it. He screwed up,” Journey says.

“But why now?” Spam says.

No one says anything for a long moment.

“I agree with Journey. I think it was an accident. A fluke.”

“Too many flukes and we have a problem.” Spam shakes her head. “Is there anything that actually makes a case?”

I put the lid back on the box and dump out the contents of the paper bag.

“Not sure yet. I found fingerprints on the van that the police missed. According to Victor, they’re from two different people, but I haven’t had a chance to run them yet. I’m pretty sure the box I took from the lab freezer will turn out to be DNA samples. But I have no clue how to verify that or how to read them.”

“What do the police have?” Spam asks. “Anyone know?”

“They have a glass nail file with my name on it, which they say is the murder weapon.” I hate admitting this, because it’s another thing in a long list that I can’t explain.

“What?” Spam looks wary.

“The nail file from my party was the murder weapon?” Lysa says.

“Unfortunately, yes.” I add a sigh. “I don’t know what it means, but I’m pretty sure it’s the reason Rachel keeps looking at me like I’m a ticking time bomb.”

“Well, that proves for sure it couldn’t have been me.” Journey inspects his fingernails. “Anyone who’s seen my nails knows I have no use for a nail file. That’s what teeth are for.”

I flash him a quick smile. “Besides, where would you get my nail file unless I gave it to you?”

“Where would anyone get your nail file unless you gave it to them?” Spam wonders.

“Good question,” I say.

Lysa raises her hand. “Oh. I overheard there was a partial footprint in blood at Miss Peters’s house, but Journey’s shoes came back clean. I was in the hall when my father took that call from the detective.”

Journey looks relieved. “Sweet. Maybe I’ll get my Nikes back.”

“Is that all?” Spam looks at me.

“There’s the size-eleven Nike footprint I found in my bedroom.”

Spam and Lysa silently shift their gaze to Journey’s feet. He says, offended, “Yes, I wear a size eleven and I have a pair of Nikes, but did you not just hear Lysa? The police have had those shoes since the first night. It couldn’t have been me.”

Spam offers Journey a small wink. “Way to rock an alibi.”

Journey smiles. “I try.”

“Good point,” I say. “Lysa, Spam, you guys have been suspicious of Journey this whole time. Well, Lysa just confirmed that the police have had his shoes since that first night. Can we finally agree that Journey is no longer creepy or a suspect and accept him as part of the team?”

Spam and Lysa exchange a nod. “Yes. Okay,” Spam says.

“He’s in. No more weird looks,” Lysa agrees.

“Thanks,” he says. “And I mean that.” Then he turns toward me. “No one has been in your bedroom since that night though, right?”

“Not that I know of.” I paw through the evidence in the small bag. I isolate a small Ziploc bag and hold it up. “Oh. There is one last thing, a torn scrap of paper I found stuck in the seat-belt clip on Journey’s van. There’s some writing on it and Journey says it’s not his. Chromatography doesn’t tell us much but I’m going to run a test on it anyway. And that’s it. That’s the extent of our evidence.”

Now that I say it out loud … it’s not much. But I know from Victor’s books that even the smallest, most unlikely piece of evidence can tell you something.

“Okay. Here’s what I’ve got.” Spam pulls some folded sheets of paper out of her back pocket and curls her foot up under her on the sofa. “Miss P’s cell phone account was, as I predicted, extremely easy to hack. I’ve checked out all the calls to and from her cell for the last three months. There was only one number that looked sketchy.”