Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(9)

“You mind if we hang on to these pictures?” Ric asked.

“Sure, I’ve got them on my computer. Those are for you.” Brooke looked around the room. “Good luck with the investigation. And locating this witness.”

She slipped out and felt an immediate wave of relief not to be holed up in the little conference room. Talking to a table full of detectives was nerve-racking.

“Brooke, wait.”

She turned around, and Sean caught up to her near the break room. He rested his hands on his hips and stared down at her.

“That was a bombshell.” There was something in his voice. Was it respect? Or doubt? “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“It wasn’t confirmed last night. Now it is.”

He gazed down at her as the office buzzed around them. His silence stretched out, and her stomach started to flutter.

“I should go. I have a meeting at one.”

He nodded. “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.” He held out his hand.

She smiled, amused by his formality. Then they shook hands, and her amusement was replaced by a warm tingle. His hand enveloped hers, and she felt a rush of sexual awareness.

“Sure.” She stepped back. “Anytime.”

? ? ?

Sean watched her cross the bull pen. She didn’t look back as she pushed through the door.

An eyewitness.

A child eyewitness.

If she was right, then her findings were certainly useful. But then Sean had a problem. A potentially explosive one.

“Detective?”

He turned to see the receptionist hurrying toward him. “Hi, Marjorie. What’s up?” It wasn’t good, whatever it was, he could tell by the look on her face.

“There’s a woman out front. She wants to talk to a detective on the Samantha Bonner case.”

“Who is she?”

“She wouldn’t say.” Marjorie looked annoyed as she adjusted her glasses. She wore them on a chain around her neck, which always reminded Sean of his grandmother. “But she’s very distraught.”

Sean started toward the lobby. “Did she say why?”

“She seems to think she was on the phone with the victim at the time she was murdered.”





CHAPTER 4


Distraught was right. And she looked overwhelmed, too.

The woman was young, maybe midtwenties, with brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was juggling a kid on her hip, a diaper bag over her shoulder, and a handful of wadded tissues that she was using to mop up the tears on her cheeks. She sniffled and nodded her way through the introductions.

Sean led her into an interview room.

“Is it true? They didn’t give a name on the news, but it’s Sam, isn’t it?”

Sean looked at the kid. Aiden, she’d said. Sean was no expert on kids, but this one had droopy eyes and a runny nose. “Is Aiden okay?” He pulled a chair out for the mother.

“He’s got an ear infection. We were just at the clinic, and he’s all out of sorts.”

“Go home, Mommy. I wanna watch PAW Patrol.”

Sean stuck his head out the door. The only people not on the phone were Jasper and Callie. So . . . six-foot-three uniform or petite, plainclothes detective?

“Callie.” Sean motioned her over. She had a wary look on her face as she neared the door.

“I’ve got to interview a witness,” he said in a low voice. “Can you entertain her kid for a couple minutes?”

“Do I look like a nanny?”

In truth, she looked like a powder puff. Five-two, blond hair, blue eyes. No one would guess she was a ballbuster and a black belt in tae kwon do.

“I just need ten minutes. Fifteen, max. It’s the Bonner case.”

“Is this the kid?”

“Nah, too young.”

She peered around Sean into the interview room. “Aw . . .” She made a little clucking noise. “He’s just a toddler.”

She glanced at Sean, and he knew he had her. It was the tongue cluck. But all maternal softness disappeared as she pointed a finger at his chest. “You owe me, Byrne. Big-time.”

“Whatever you want. His name’s Aiden, by the way.”

Sean opened the door wider, and Callie walked over to the boy, who was running a red race car along the table.

“Hi, Aiden. I’m Miss Callie.” She looked at the mom. “Think he’d like to see our kitchen? We’ve got some apple juice.”

Amy whispered something to her son. After a moment of hesitation, he took Callie’s hand and let her lead him from the room.

As soon as the door whisked shut, the tears started flowing again. Amy’s brown eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

Sean took the chair across from her. He hated this part of his job, hated the look people always gave him when they wanted him to tell them they were wrong about something they already knew.

“The victim has been identified as Samantha Bonner.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She was silent for a few seconds and then blew her nose. “God, this can’t be happening. It can’t. I just talked to her last night.”

“When?”

“About eight forty-five.” She shook her head. “She was supposed to come over.”