Doc stood, his knees popping, and rested a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Good luck with that. In my experience, they handle cases in their own sweet time.”
It’s not what you know. It’s who you know.
Zoe grew up on those pearls of wisdom. Where the county crime lab was concerned, the words held true. She entered with her evidence in hand, hoping to see one particular face at the counter. And she was in luck.
“Hi, Gloria,” she said.
The gray-haired woman looked up from her computer terminal and smiled. “Zoe. It’s good to see you.”
“Not as good as it is to see you. I need a favor.”
Gloria made a show of rolling her eyes. “The only time I see old friends from the EMS is when they need something.”
“I’m with the coroner’s office now.”
“I know. Sorry to hear about your boss.”
Zoe set the evidence bags on the counter. “Thanks. He’s what the favor’s about.” She touched the bags gently. “This is from his autopsy. I’d really appreciate it if you could expedite the lab work.”
Gloria looked up at Zoe. “You do know how backlogged we are.”
“I know.”
“And turnaround on these things is somewhere around four to six weeks.”
“I know.”
“If I bump a case ahead in the queue, I could lose my job.”
“I know.” Although Zoe doubted the county would fire someone as skilled and dedicated as Gloria.
They stared at each other. Gloria silently imploring Zoe to back down from her request, Zoe maintaining her stance.
When Gloria didn’t blink, Zoe touched the bags again. “It’s Franklin.”
Gloria sighed. “If I get fired, I expect you to make a position for me in the coroner’s office.”
“Deal.”
Zoe thanked her old colleague and headed for the door. She hadn’t quite made it when her phone rang. Not one of her assigned ringtones. Caller ID only showed “Private Caller.”
Expecting a telemarketer, she answered with a brusque, “Hello.”
“Zoe Chambers?” The strong, masculine voice sounded all-business and totally unfamiliar.
“Yes.”
“This is District Attorney Frattini. How soon can you meet me in my office?”
Baronick ambled into the Vance Township station just as Pete was about to head out on patrol. “Got a few minutes?” the detective asked.
Pete nodded toward the chair opposite him, but Baronick detoured to the coffeepot in the corner.
He picked through the mugs, settled on one with the township’s fire department emblem on the side, and filled it. “I’ve had an interesting morning.”
“Did you attend the autopsy?”
Baronick paused. “Franklin’s? No. I thought about it.”
Which was as far as Pete had gotten too. They were both cowards. Zoe, on the other hand, had to face the procedure, like it or not.
“I met with Dustin Landis and his illustrious attorney though.” Baronick moved to the chair and took a seat.
“And? What did your fresh eyes tell you?”
“I can see why you believed him at first. He’s damned convincing.”
“That he is.”
“Did you learn anything from the FBI agent?”
“She confirmed what we already knew. Elizabeth Landis was likely not one of the DLK’s victims.”
Baronick frowned. “DLK?”
“Deserted Lot Killer.”
“Okay,” the detective said, dragging out the word. “And how did the agent reach that conclusion?”
“The lot wasn’t deserted.”
“Either DKL got sloppy or he had nothing to do with it.”
“DLK,” Pete corrected.
Baronick met Pete’s gaze. “What about a copycat? Could Dustin Landis have tried to make it look like this KDL guy did it to throw suspicion off himself? After all, he’s been screaming this theory of a stranger being the killer since day one.”
Pete wasn’t going to correct Baronick yet again when he knew the detective was deliberately mixing up the acronym. “How would Landis have known about him? He wasn’t on the FBI’s radar until well after Landis was convicted and sentenced.”
Baronick leaned back and searched for the answer in his coffee mug. After several long moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “I also met with Frattini this morning.”
“And?”
“Franklin Marshall’s death throws something of a legal monkey wrench into Landis’ new trial. The forensic pathologist who autopsied Elizabeth died years ago. With Franklin gone, there’s no one left in the coroner’s office who was directly involved in the case.”
Pete had been so wrapped up in the personal side of Marshall’s death, he hadn’t thought about the legal ramifications. “Imperatore will demand the autopsy results be thrown out.”
“And Frattini will fight to keep them in.”
“He has to be pissed.”
“Not really.” Baronick sipped his coffee. “He told me Franklin had been a wild card on the stand the first time. Frattini feels confident he can keep the autopsy included as evidence. Guess who will be testifying in Franklin’s place.”
Pete didn’t have to give it much thought. “Zoe.”
“Give the man a cigar. Your fiancée is about to be embroiled in a legal battle. Frattini was getting ready to call her as I was leaving.”
“She’ll do great.”
“No argument from me.”
For once.
“Which brings us back to our part of the Landis investigation.” Baronick set his mug on the desk. “I’m going to start questioning the witnesses.”
“I’ll text you Cheryl Vranjes’ current address.”
“Already have it. I want to talk to you about the other witnesses.”
“No one else saw the shooter.”
“I don’t mean eyewitnesses.”
Pete knew immediately what the detective was referring to.
“I mean the witnesses for the prosecution. The ones who essentially turned the jury against Landis.”
And who had likewise swayed Pete’s opinion of Landis’ innocence the moment he’d learned about them.
“Elizabeth’s husband was a bad boy,” Baronick said. “Tell me about his girlfriends.”
Fourteen
Nine years earlier
Dustin Landis was the epitome of the grief-stricken husband during the preliminary investigation. He opened his home to Pete and the county detectives to search without demanding a warrant, insisting he had nothing to hide.
“Do whatever you need to convince yourselves I’m innocent so you can put your full attention on finding the real killer.”
With nothing incriminating found in the Landis house or on the property, Pete shifted his focus to Elizabeth’s coworkers. Armed with the Rolodex cards Dustin gave him, Pete questioned each of the women in the real estate agent’s office.
