Love You More (Tessa Leoni, #1)(56)

Command presence. Never let them see you sweat.

The glass doors slid open, and the world exploded in flashing white lights.





20



We gotta start over,” D.D. was saying an hour and a half later. They’d handed Tessa over to the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department at the courthouse. The DA would present the charges. Her lawyer would enter a plea, bail would be set, and a mittimus prepared by the court, legally granting the county permission to hold Tessa Leoni until the requirements of her bail were met. At which point, Tessa would be either bailed out or transported to the Suffolk County Jail. Given that the DA was going to argue Tessa was a flight risk and request no bail, there was a good chance she was already on her way to the women’s detainee unit as they spoke.

That still didn’t solve all their problems.

“Our timeline was set by Tessa’s initial statement to police,” D.D. was saying now, back at BPD headquarters, where she’d hastily summoned all members of the taskforce. “We assumed, based upon her accounting of events, that Brian Darby was shot and killed Sunday morning, after a physical altercation with her. According to the ME, however, Darby’s body was frozen prior to Sunday morning, and most likely, unthawed for Tessa’s star-making performance.”

“Can he tell how long it was frozen?” Phil spoke up from the front row.

D.D. let their third squadmate, Neil, answer the question, as he’d been the one attending the autopsy.

“Probably less than twenty-four hours,” Neil provided for the room. “Ben said he can see cellular damage consistent with freezing in the extremities, but not the internal organs. Meaning the body was on ice, but not long enough to freeze all the way through. Limbs, face, fingers, toes, yes. Deep torso, no. So probably put on ice twelve to twenty-four hours. He can only estimate because the timeline would be affected by room temperature. Then you must factor in at least a few hours for the body to return to room temperature.… He’s guessing—stress guessing—Brian Darby was actually killed Friday night or Saturday morning.”

“So,” D.D. stated, redirecting attention to her. “We’re going to have to recanvass all the neighbors, friends, and family—when was the last time someone saw or spoke to Brian Darby alive? Are we looking at Friday night or Saturday morning?”

“Had a call on his cellphone Friday evening,” another detective, Jake Owens, commented. “Saw that when I was going through the records yesterday.”

“Long call? Like he talked to someone?”

“Eight or nine minutes, so not just leaving a message. I’ll trace the number, have a chat with the recipient.”

“Make sure the person spoke to Brian,” D.D. ordered crisply, “and it wasn’t Tessa, using his phone.”

“I don’t get it.” Phil had been doing all the background checks and in many ways knew more about the details of the case than anyone. “We’re thinking Tessa shot her husband, then froze the body—then staged a whole scene for Sunday morning. Why?”

D.D. shrugged. “Interestingly enough, she wouldn’t tell us that.”

“Buying time,” Bobby said, from his place, leaning against the front wall. “No other good reason. She was buying time.”

“For what?” Phil asked.

“Most likely, to deal with her daughter.”

That brought the room up short. D.D. frowned at him. Obviously, she wasn’t happy with his conjecture. That was okay. He wasn’t happy to learn she was pregnant from a suspect in a murder investigation. Call him old-fashioned, but that stuck in his craw, and he was feeling pissy about it.

“You think she hurt the daughter?” Phil asked now, his voice wary. He had four kids at home.

“A neighbor saw Brian’s Denali leave the house Saturday afternoon,” Bobby said. “Initially, we assumed Brian was driving the SUV. Given that the lab techs believe a dead body was in the back of the vehicle, we further assumed that Brian had killed his stepdaughter, and was disposing of the evidence. Except, Brian Darby was most likely dead by Saturday afternoon. Meaning he wasn’t the one transporting a corpse.”

D.D. thinned her lips, but nodded curtly. “I think we have to consider the notion that Tessa Leoni killed her entire family. Given that Sophie was at school on Friday, my guess is either Friday night, before Tessa’s patrol shift, or Saturday morning after her patrol shift, something terrible happened in the household. Brian’s body was put on ice in the garage, while Sophie’s body was driven to an undisclosed location and dumped. Tessa reported to work once again Saturday evening. Then Sunday morning, it was showtime.”

“She staged it,” Phil muttered. “Made it look like her husband had done something to Sophie. Then she and Brian fought and she killed him in self-defense.”

D.D. nodded; Bobby, too.

“What about the facial injuries, though?” Neil spoke up from the back. “No way she made it through Saturday night patrol with a concussion and fractured face. She couldn’t stand yesterday, let alone operate a motor vehicle.”

“Good point,” D.D. concurred. She moved in front of the whiteboard, where she’d written: Timeline. Now, she added one bullet—Tessa Leoni Injuries: Sunday Morning. “Wounds gotta be fresh. Can a doctor verify that?” she asked Neil, a former EMT and their resident medical expert.