The Last Sister (Columbia River)(18)

“And it’s too early to expect any news from the state crime lab.”

“Definitely. I did ask for priority processing on Sean’s laptop that was sent to our computer forensics lab in Portland.”

“Everybody wants priority,” Ava commented.

“True. And the manager’s big sigh when I asked for it didn’t give me a lot of hope.”

They both sipped their coffee. Forensic evidence took time. TV had taught the public that forensics could solve a crime in an hour, but more often it took months. Zander knew he could use the FBI lab back east if he needed a certain piece of evidence handled quickly, but he preferred to use it selectively instead of swamping it with every scrap of evidence from a scene. As the investigation went on, he’d narrow down which pieces of evidence took precedence.

Madison appeared with their order and efficiently set down their plates. Ava’s smile widened as she studied her French toast. Zander’s oversize omelet was stuffed with sautéed peppers and onions, and a parmesan cheese sauce oozed out the sides.

“Do you need anything else?” Madison asked.

“Looks perfect,” said Ava. She already had a fluffy bite on her fork, headed for her mouth. Her blissful expression after her bite reminded Zander why he’d once been half in love with her. He’d told her his feelings last fall during his once-a-year depressive alcohol binge, but it hadn’t affected their friendship or work relationship. The fact that her fiancé was a good guy and a close friend had smoothed the way once Zander had recovered from the acute embarrassment of sharing his deepest secrets at his lowest moment.

“Good?” he asked.

“Amazing. I don’t know what coats it, but the fried crunch is spot-on.” With a wink, she cut a slice in half and transferred it to his plate.

He tasted his omelet, and unexpected flavor exploded in his mouth. He took three rapid bites, no longer regretting his choice.

“How’s your room?” Ava asked between mouthfuls.

He snorted, and she grinned in understanding.

His hotel room was bare bones and hadn’t been updated since the 1980s.

He didn’t mind; he could sleep anywhere. But he hadn’t cared for the earthy scent of dampness. It permeated the carpet and curtains. The bedding and towels were fresh, but this morning his clothing seemed limp from the wet air.

The two of them made fast work of breakfast and were lingering over their coffee when Zander saw Emily emerge from the kitchen. She wore a jacket, so he assumed she’d just arrived. She stopped to talk to a table of four women, each one with a baby or toddler on her lap. Some sort of mom’s group, he surmised. She admired each baby and then patted the shoulder of one mother. The woman’s smiling little girl made him suck in a breath and focus on his coffee.

He looked up to catch Ava eyeing him, her gaze deliberately blank. She wisely didn’t say a thing.

“Good morning.” Emily stopped at their table. “How was your breakfast?”

“Amazing,” Ava stated at the same time that Zander replied, “Great.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Emily, I’d like to talk with Madison,” Ava told her. “When is she off work?”

Emily frowned. “What for?”

Her reluctance caught Zander’s attention. Overprotective sister?

“I’ve hit a bit of a wall on Lindsay’s closest relatives. I was hoping she could help.”

“Oh.” Emily glanced over her shoulder at her sister. Madison had four breakfast plates balanced on her arms as she strode to the far end of the restaurant. “Once the breakfast rush is done, she’ll have time.”

Zander’s phone rang, and Emily stepped away. Sheriff Greer’s name was on the screen.

“Wells,” Zander answered.

“Greer here. I got a call from a bar manager who says Sean Fitch got in a bar fight the night before he died.”

“Where?” Zander’s heart sped up.

“Patrick’s Place. Local dive.”

“They open this early? Who’s the manager?”

“They’re not open, but Paul Parish is the manager, and he’s there now. He’ll let us in.”

Annoyance briefly flickered at the thought of the sheriff observing as Zander conducted an interview. Or maybe he expected Zander to observe him interview the manager.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Zander told him before hanging up. “Sean Fitch supposedly got in a bar fight the night before,” he told Ava.

Her eyes widened. “Interesting.”

“The sheriff says he’ll meet me at the bar.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Enjoy. I’ll talk to Madison as soon as this place clears out a little more.”

He slid out of the booth and put on his coat. “Check in later?”

“Absolutely.”





9

No sheriff’s vehicle was present at Patrick’s Place.

For two seconds Zander considered waiting for Sheriff Greer, and then he got out of his vehicle. Patrick’s Place was on the oceanfront. In fact, most of the building stuck out over the ocean, balanced on a network of pilings and heavy beams. The squat one-story building didn’t have any windows in front, and Zander hoped there were windows on the ocean side to take advantage of the view.