Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(12)

“The owner? Denbe Construction… Wait. Tessa Leoni? The Tessa Leoni?”

It had been only two years, and given the media attention at the time… Tessa waited patiently.

Neil swung his attention to D.D. “You let her in? Without asking me? If I’d done that when you were in charge, you would’ve skinned me alive with a rusty razor, then gotten out a shaker of salt.”

“I made her promise not to touch anything,” D.D. said mildly.

“I only want the computers,” Tessa interjected. “And I won’t even take them. Just need to check something first. You can watch. But”—she shot a glance at D.D. just for sport—“your turn to promise not to touch.”

Neil scowled at both of them. “This is a time-sensitive investigation!”

“Yes.”

“Not to mention a highly complex crime scene!”

“How many perpetrators do you think?” Tessa asked him.

“At least two. Taser guy. Boot guy. Wait. I don’t have to share any information with you.”

“True, but Denbe Construction would appreciate your cooperation, which in turn will help you later, when no doubt you’re going to need information from them.”

Neil scowled again, then pursed his lips, considering. Tessa wasn’t touching anything, and they would need help from Justin’s construction firm, with requests to view corporate financials and personnel files being on the top of any good detective’s next-steps list.

“I think there were three to four guys,” Neil said, more considerate now. “But I can’t pinpoint exactly why. That’s what I’m doing now. Staring at the walls and willing them to talk.”

Tessa understood. Police work often felt exactly like that. And sometimes, the walls did talk, at least forensically speaking.

Now she gestured to a collection of evidence placards, which seemed to mark a trail of water drops. “What spilled?”

“Urine.” Neil pointed toward a doorway at the end of the hall. “Girl’s bathroom. Looks like they surprised her in there. Must’ve made a noise, I don’t know. But she was peeing, as there’s also urine in the toilet, but no toilet paper.”

“Sure it wasn’t a guy?” D.D. asked.

“Well, not being a total idiot, I thought we’d test it to be sure,” Neil drawled, obviously still cranky with his mentor. “But most logical scenario: Ashlyn Denbe was peeing. They made a noise. Scared her. Startled her. Something. Either way, she didn’t take the time to flush, but grabbed hair spray and launched a counterattack.”

“Really?” Tessa was intrigued. “Can I see?”

“Look, don’t touch.”

Tessa took that to be a yes. She walked down the hall, D.D. behind her now. She passed a double door that appeared to lead to the master suite, then a single door that led to a study, currently occupied by an older detective who was already sitting at the computer she wanted. Next up, on the left, came an obviously female room, bright pink walls covered in rock star posters, while the plush-carpeted floor was covered in clothes. Three detectives stood in there, probably how many it took to determine which items were evidence and which items were everyday teenage mess.

She arrived at the bathroom. Keeping with the theme from the rest of the house, it was a luxurious, double-sinked affair, featuring miles of earthy Italian tile, a walk-in glass shower and a bunch of brushed-nickel fixtures Tessa had once seen in a TV commercial. If memory served, the shower fixture alone cost about as much as a small automobile.

If Tessa was impressed, apparently, Ashlyn Denbe could’ve cared less. Rather than revel in her gold-veined granite countertop, she’d buried it beneath piles of cosmetic must-haves. Hair scrunchies, brushes, lotions, sprays, makeup kits, acne solutions. You name it, Ashlyn Denbe had it piled across her long, double-sinked countertop. Countertop finally gave way to the toilet, the back of which was equally cluttered.

Now Tessa stared at the toilet, stared at the countertop, then turned and stared at the open door.

“Lights on or off?” she asked Neil.

“Technically?”

“Okay,” she dragged out, unsure what technically could mean.

“Technically,” he repeated briskly, “it appears the intruders tripped the circuit breakers in the master electrical panel, meaning that the entire downstairs was lights-off. We found a light switch flipped to the on position in the foyer, however, which I’m assuming is from when the parents first entered the home. You know, walk in, turn on a light.”

Tessa digested that. Made sense. First, that one of the Denbes would try to turn on a light. Second, that if the intruders were smart enough to override a state-of-the-art security system and come armed with Tasers, of course they’d killed the lights. “And up here?”

“Circuit was still working. Maybe they realized the girl was on this level and to suddenly plunge her into darkness might spook her. She’d call her father or something.”

“Got it. So, on this level then, hallway light on or off?”

“On.”

“Bathroom light?”

“Off.”

“Female point of view?” Tessa offered. “Ashlyn hadn’t closed the door. She was alone, her parents out, right? Ashlyn was all tucked in for the night. Probably not asleep, given we’re thinking ten P.M. on a Friday night. But wearing comfy clothes, all holed up in her bedroom. Then she had to pee. Pads in here, sits to do her thing. The kidnapper appeared. That’s what scared the crap out of her. She’s sitting here, peeing in the dark, then looks up, and there’s a guy standing in the doorway.”