What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(12)

Moss chuckled. “There weren’t any, which is why I’m certain it was the husband. They had financial problems. He had financial problems.” Moss repeated what Anita had told Tracy. “New kid, debt, and a wife who was an odd duck. So what does he do?”

“Convinces her to take out a mutual life insurance policy,” Tracy said.

“Bingo. Wife disappears. He gets the money—after he convinces the insurance company that she’s dead—pays off his debt, and starts fresh.”

“Except he’s got a little girl now.”

“True.”

“No offense, but I don’t see many men wanting to raise a daughter alone, without a mother. That’s not exactly a fresh start.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he had a girlfriend.”

“Did he?” Tracy asked, thinking of the high school sweetheart who was now Larry Childress’s partner.

“Not that we ever found. Maybe he just wanted the mother out of the picture, or maybe he needed the money and saw no other alternative, or maybe it was a fight that quickly got out of hand. We don’t know.”

“File didn’t indicate any evidence of a fight that got out of hand.”

“I’m just saying . . .”

“You said the convenience store checked out, which means Lisa Childress did go out that night?”

“She did. But to get out of the house and away from the husband, or to meet a source? Editor didn’t know anything about her meeting a source. What does that leave?”

“Daughter said she didn’t always tell the editor what she was doing.”

“I recall the editor saying something similar. My point is, we don’t know why she went out. Not definitively. The only person who could tell us is gone, and no confidential source ever materialized.

So, what’s more likely—she met a source in the middle of the night and that source killed her, or she and the husband have a row, and when she takes off to get some fresh air, the husband is home fuming? She comes home. They fight. He kills her. Disposes of her body somewhere and doesn’t call us until nearly six p.m. the following evening.”

“That long?”

“That long.” Moss raised his eyebrows. “Which, as you know, could mean he disposed of the body anywhere and in any number of ways. Didn’t I read you had a case about a woman found in a commercial crab pot?”

“I did.”

“There you go.”

“Did the husband say why he waited so long to report her missing?”

“He said she met sources at all hours of the day and night, and he didn’t know anything was wrong until she didn’t come home and didn’t answer her desk phone. He found her editor’s home phone number, and the editor said she had never come in. Hang on. I got to putt.”

Moss sped around the back of the first green and got out. He had about a ten-foot putt, lined it up, and drained it. “Tweet-tweet,”

he said. “Get the birdie juice out, boys.” He returned to the cart.

“Little celebration we have. A shot of whiskey when someone, usually me, birdies a hole. Would you like one?”

She laughed. “No, thanks. Not while I’m on duty.” Not to mention it was eight in the morning. “I assume you went over the car and didn’t find anything else of interest besides the receipt and the blood.”

“What I recall is we processed the hell out of that car, and it had so much stuff it took a week. We ran the blood type and matched it to her and later matched her DNA.”

“Was she bleeding when she went into the convenience store?”

Moss pointed at Tracy. “Thought the same thing. The clerk did not recall anyone coming in that night bleeding.”

“Fingerprints?”

“Just hers. All over the car.”

“Not the husband’s?”

“He said he never drove that car. He had his own car. Nothing to indicate he was in the car.”

“So how did her blood get in her car?”

“Not certain. Never figured that out. We got a subpoena for the home but didn’t find her blood anywhere, and no evidence of a fight.

Nothing. We’re moving again.” Moss went up a hill to a second tee box, a short par three. As before, he wasted little time, hit the ball high and landed it on the green, then walked back to the cart while his three partners teed off.

“I assume you went through the husband’s car?” Tracy said.

“All over it. No blood. Found a set or two of her fingerprints and her hair strands but nothing to indicate he transported a body somewhere.”

The report in the file indicated a security guard found Childress’s car in a parking structure on Eighth Avenue between Pine and Olive, but not until nearly three weeks after she disappeared.

“Any indication the garage is where she met her source?” Tracy asked.

“Maybe, but then that doesn’t explain her blood inside her car.”

“They could have talked in her car.”

“Nope. Not with the amount of crap in there. Did you pull the photos?”

“I’ve put in a request.”

“You’ll see what I mean. We also pulled bank records and found that she’d withdrawn a hundred dollars from the Wells Fargo before going to the convenience store.”