In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)(70)

“Yeah,” he said, identifying the taste. Lipstick. “I . . . I . . . I’m fine.”



When he arrived home, Carrol found Franklin in the living room peppering Evan with questions. Evan looked pale and scared.

“I know something is up, Evan. You’ve been squirrely since last night.”

“No one came to the door, Franklin.”

“Franklin?” Carrol said.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Franklin said.

“It’s important.”

“So is this.”

“Wh . . . wh . . . what did that female detective look like?” Carrol asked, knowing the question would get Franklin’s attention.

“Why?” Franklin turned to him.

“Bl . . . bl . . . blonde hair? Almost as tall as me. Good-looking.”

“Where’d you see her?”

Carrol felt sick to his stomach. He slumped into a chair. “In . . . in . . . in . . .” He couldn’t get the words out.

“What?” Franklin said.

“In the . . . the . . . the bar tonight—”

“She wouldn’t have been in the bar.”

Carrol’s stuttering worsened as what had happened dawned on him. He had trouble getting the story out.

Franklin sat. “Just slow down and tell me what happened.”

In between his stuttering, Carrol told Franklin what had happened when he went back inside the bar. “It was lipstick,” he said.

“How would you know what lipstick tastes like?”

“I know,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Franklin ran a hand over his face, turned away for a moment, and paced the room. When he turned back, he was smiling, which really scared the shit out of Carrol. He snuck a glance at Evan, who looked equally terrified, then looked again to Franklin. “You okay?”

“She took the bottles for the DNA,” Franklin said.

“Oh shit,” Carrol said.

“No. That’s the good news.” Franklin laughed. “She’ll run the DNA on the bottles, but it won’t match any DNA they might have found in the park. It will clear us.”

“What about the car? What if they found something in the car?”

“You wore the gloves and the hat?”

“Yeah, but I mean what if a hair dropped in the car, or like skin follicles or something.”

“Shit, you don’t have no hair to drop. And you wiped everything down?”

“Best I could.”

“Then you don’t have nothing to worry about. Least not yet.”

Carrol still felt queasy. “What about Evan? If she found DNA at the site maybe it could belong to Evan.”

“What DNA?” Franklin asked. He turned to Evan. “Were you drinking anything before you nabbed that girl?”

Evan shook his head.

“Did she pull out your hair or tear the clothes you were wearing?”

Again, Evan shook his head.

Franklin smiled and spoke to Carrol. “She ain’t thinking about Evan. He’s got the best alibi of any of us. He’s an idiot. She’s thinking about you and me. We both worked Wednesday. Our employers will confirm it, if they haven’t already. If that isn’t enough for her, the DNA will be.”

“We’re in the clear?” Carrol asked.

“Looks that way,” Franklin said. He turned to Evan. “Looks like you’re going to get to try out that young girl after all.”





CHAPTER 30

Early the following morning, Tracy dropped off the beer bottles and the napkins at the Washington State Patrol Crime Lab on Airport Way. Mike Melton greeted her warmly. They’d worked many cases together and helped raise money for Victim Support Services, a Washington nonprofit that assisted victims of crime and their families. Melton played guitar and sang in a band called The Fourensics at the nonprofit’s annual fund-raiser, and Tracy had created a golf tournament that raised funds to honor a fallen detective, Scott Tompkins. The money also benefited the charity.

Tracy shared pictures of Daniella with Melton, which brought a smile to his bearded face. The big man melted, as he no doubt did with his own daughters and grandchildren.

“I don’t envy you, and I really don’t envy your husband,” Melton said. “Raising daughters is hard on a father. You’re always worrying about them, hoping they’re safe, hoping some boy doesn’t break their heart. There will be many sleepless nights for the two of you.”

“There already have been. But you seem to have survived,” Tracy said.

“This job doesn’t make it any easier,” he said, “as you know all too well. But it does make you guarded, which is good, I think.” He looked at the bottles and the napkins. “Am I to assume you believe that the DNA on those bottles and napkins relates in some way to the DNA we pulled off the cigarettes in the disappearance of that young girl?”

“You are.”

“And you need it ASAP?”

“I never could get anything past you,” Tracy said. “Do me a favor though—”

“I know. Run it under the two names and case numbers you gave me yesterday?”