Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(16)

Sean headed down the street toward the hollow. They passed the widow’s house, and then the fenced yards gave way to overgrown bushes. The air smelled like wet leaves, and a thick layer of kudzu covered everything except the road and the guardrail.

Sean approached the tree where the guy had crashed his car last night. The front of the black sedan had been crumpled like an accordion. Up ahead, Sean could make out the fresh yellow wound in the tree trunk.

“What time did you get to the scene last night?” He looked at Brooke.

“Around nine forty. Why?”

“Ric and I reached the neighborhood just before ten and got stuck behind a wreck.”

“Yeah, you said.”

“That witness heard brakes down here around nine.”

They stopped beside the guardrail that was bent and twisted. Black skid marks led directly to the tree.

“There’s a second set of skids here,” Brooke said.

Sean turned around. She was standing on the opposite side of the road about ten yards back.

Sean crossed the street, pulling out his flashlight. He swept the beam over the guardrail. The railing was bent in one place, but the damage looked old.

“Doesn’t look like the car left the roadway,” she said. “But it clearly swerved and braked.”

Sean glanced around. No streetlights here, only the reflectors along the curved metal barrier that had been smashed into time and time again. He walked all the way to the end of the guardrail, moving his light over the vegetation. Some of the weeds were bent and broken.

Sean waded into the brush, his stomach growing heavier with every step.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer as he pushed aside some branches and crouched down to look at a blue baseball cap with a Red Sox logo on it. Behind him, Brooke gasped.

The land dropped off sharply. Sean picked his way down, shining his light around. The beam landed on something white. Sean held his breath as he peeled away the branches.

“Sean?” Her voice was small and fearful.

He stared down at the mangled metal, then turned to look at her. She was a dark silhouette at the top of the ridge.

“Sean, what is it?”

“A kid’s bike.”





CHAPTER 6


Roland walked in and plunked a Slurpee on her worktable. “Wild cherry.”

Brooke didn’t look up. The print she was attempting to lift required her undivided attention. “Thanks. Next one’s on me.”

“Forget it. You’ve got visitors, by the way.”

She glanced up. “Who?”

“Two detectives, a man and a woman.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. Why didn’t he just say who they were?

Roland smiled, and she knew he was needling her. Maybe he’d picked up on the weird tension between her and Sean.

As if on cue, Sean stepped into the laboratory, followed by Callie McLean. Both wore visitor’s badges.

Brooke put down her fingerprint powder. “Hi.” She didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

“We decided to stop by.”

She glanced at Callie, who was looking around the lab curiously. To Brooke’s knowledge, she’d never before been down here.

Sean stepped closer, his attention drawn to the red brick on Brooke’s worktable. “What’s that?”

“A murder weapon.”

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to get a print off that thing?” Sean said.

“You sound like a very annoying sheriff’s deputy who told me not to bother.”

“Never tell Brooke she can’t do something,” Roland said from across the room. “Only pisses her off.”

Callie stepped over to take a look. The brick had dried blood on it because it had been used to bludgeon a man to death. Brooke had already used an alternative light source to locate a trio of prints on the side of the weapon. The challenge was lifting the prints from such a textured surface. She had dusted the area with black magnetic powder and photographed it, and now came the hard part.

“You guys mind waiting a sec? I have to finish this before my casting material dries.”

“Not at all.” Sean smiled as he stood back to watch.

Brooke wasn’t used to having an audience, but she tried to stay focused as she dipped a plastic spatula into a small bowl of liquid silicone. “Right now it’s the consistency of toothpaste.” She carefully coated the area. “When it dries, I’ll be able to lift the prints. They’ll show up black against the white putty. I’ll then reverse the images using digital photography and run the prints through the database.”

“Impressive,” Sean said.

“Hopefully. We’ll know in a few minutes.” She finished applying the material and turned to look at her audience. “So. What can I do for you, Detectives?”

“We’re checking in on our evidence,” Sean said. “You managed to get to it yet?”

“First thing this morning.” Brooke stepped over to the maimed bicycle in the vehicle bay beside Samantha Bonner’s Kia. Even the kickstand was bent.

Callie circled the bike. “Wow. This thing is trashed.”

“We got transfer paint off the frame. The paint is dark red, but you knew that already. We’re waiting on a make and model of the vehicle.”