Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(72)

“I’m not at liberty to discuss specifics.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “I’m not a reporter, you know. We’re on the same team here.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Irregardless . . .”

Sara waited for him to finish the thought. He didn’t, and she was done tiptoeing around his ego.

“Well, I’m at liberty to discuss specifics, so let me tell you what I know after ten years of dealing with these sorts of cases. I know this child was abused. Severely, and over a period of years. I know this child’s mother and father, along with any stepfather or boyfriend at this kid’s house, should all top your list of suspects in his murder. And I know that if the mom didn’t do it, then at the very least, she’s complicit in this crime.”

The deputy gave a skeptical frown.

Sara turned to her computer and clicked open a photo of a tattered Winnie-the-Pooh blanket. It had come zipped inside the pouch with the boy’s remains, which had been found in a culvert less than two miles from his home.

Sara tapped the screen. “This child came to us wrapped in a blanket, Deputy. You know who does that? A mother feeling remorse.”

The deputy looked at her but didn’t say anything.

“This mom knows what happened to her son,” Sara told him. “Get her to talk to you.”

“Easier said than done.”

“She’s the key to your case.”

He nodded and stood up, collecting his hat, along with the autopsy report Sara had completed early this morning. “Appreciate the input.” He tucked the report under his arm. “Thank you for the quick turnaround.”

“Absolutely.”

Sara watched him leave with an ache in the pit of her stomach. Would he listen to her advice? Or was she talking to a wall? Sometimes Sara wished she had a badge instead of a damn lab coat.

She propped her elbows on her desk and rubbed her temples. Her headache was back with a vengeance. It had started making regular appearances every day around six.

Sara clenched her teeth and tried to will it away. But of course, that didn’t work. Lack of sleep wasn’t helping. Neither was the steady barrage of cases—three new ones in the last two days. Frustration churned inside her. She felt powerless and exhausted and, with each day that ticked by, more depressed by the world around her. She swiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up. Enough. She needed to get out of here. She needed to go home and take a break and think about something besides death and suffering.

She hung her lab coat on the door and grabbed her purse. Poking her head into the autopsy suite, she saw Aaron bent over his microscope.

“It’s ten to six,” she said.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“No hurry. I’ll wait upstairs.”

He glanced up. “You okay?”

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

She ignored his look of concern and headed out the door into the long windowless corridor. Most days, she liked the solitude of working down here, but every now and then, it made her want to tear her hair out.

The elevator dinged, and she darted around the corner to catch it, nearly smacking into someone. She jumped back.

“Whoa.” Nolan gazed down at her, and she felt a flood of relief. She wanted to hug him, but she kept her hands to herself.

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her pulse was racing suddenly. “What brings you down here?”

“Had a meeting with Mia. Thought I’d stop in and say hi. You all right?”

“You know, shit day.” She waved off his concern. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

“Well, can I give you a ride home?”

She tipped her head to the side. “How’d you know I needed a ride home?”

“You’re here. Your car isn’t. I figure it’s in the shop?”

“It is.”

“Then let me take you home.”

Sara gazed up at him, still shocked at seeing him. He looked good. He wore jeans and his leather jacket, and he had the five o’clock shadow going. And suddenly, a ride with Nolan was exactly what she needed.

“I’d like that. Let me tell Aaron.” She pulled out her phone and sent a message as they walked to the elevator.

“Thanks for the offer,” she said when they stepped inside.

“Sure.” He looked her up and down. “Does your shit day have anything to do with the Clarke County deputy I passed on my way down here?”

“Yes,” she said, but didn’t elaborate. She didn’t want to dump all her problems on him.

They reached the lobby, which was busy with Delphi staffers heading home for the night, probably to spouses and children and adoring pets. Sara was going home to an empty refrigerator and a stack of unpaid bills.

She looked at Nolan. “So, what’s up with Mia?” she asked, trying for cheerful.

He held open the door for her as she stepped into the warm evening air. “She has DNA results from the T-shirt we found.”

“I thought she already finished with that. She confirmed the DNA belonged to the victim.”

“She found a second DNA profile and turned up a forensic hit,” he said.

“You mean the crime-scene index?”