Lonnie went outside to call the chief, and Al stayed in the hall, available to assist Pat if needed. Don Hawkins volunteered to check the perimeter of the house, while Jen and Will donned gloves and began searching the remainder of the house for anything that might be evidence.
It was Will who noticed the damp bath towel hanging on a rod above the tub and the rust-colored stain on the tub’s edge. Jen held a large paper evidence bag open as he carefully slid the soggy towel inside. The paper would allow the towel to continue drying without losing any tissue or hair that might be on it, and because it would allow the towel to dry, any organic evidence that might be on it would not deteriorate.
“He cleaned himself up.” Will’s eyes were hard. “I suppose he didn’t want to risk being pulled over by some nosy patrolman who’d want to know why he was covered in blood.”
Jen eyed the federal agent critically. He had turned pale at the sight of Kaufmann’s bloodied body, and he had not yet regained his color. A muscle twitched repeatedly under his left eye, and his mouth was set in a hard straight line. Again, she wondered what he had left out of the Minneapolis narrative.
“He may have been nude the whole time,” she said. “That way he could simply clean up afterward, get dressed, and crawl back into whatever hole he came out of.”
“I didn’t see any mention of wet towels in the reports on the other two.”
“None were found, not that it means anything. Neither Sams nor Edwards was found until the following evening. If there had been any damp towels, they would have dried by then.”
Jen was relieved to find that it was becoming easier to function around the agent. She still tensed up when he got too close to her personal space, and every time he looked at her, her body temp went up a notch, but at least she could walk and talk. That was a huge improvement.
“Were the bathrooms vacuumed?” he said, referring to a special vacuum equipped with filters that could trap fibers and hair that might go unnoticed by the human eye.
“Yes,” she said. “Nothing found that didn’t belong there.”
“What about the plumbing?”
“No—at least not at Edwards’s apartment. Since nothing of interest was found in the bathroom, we didn’t think it worth tearing up the plumbing.
“Are the scenes still secure?”
“I don’t think the county’s is, but Edwards’s apartment is still vacant.”
Will pulled a worn leather pocket secretary from an inner pocket of his suit jacket and made a note. The pocket secretary looked identical to the kind carried by a few of the older officers. Jen wondered if Will had carried this one when he worked for Minneapolis. It looked worn enough to have been around over fifteen years.
“Considering the mess Artie leaves, I’m sure the management has had the apartment cleaned,” Will said. “But it might pay to get a plumber in.”
He made another note. Jen felt herself getting irritated at the way he was jotting reminders to himself as if he were in charge of the investigation. She fought down the urge to suggest he jot a reminder to himself that, so far, the feds did not have jurisdiction on these particular cases.
“You’re that sure it’s Kelty then?” she said instead.
He smiled, his eyes sad.
“Sorry, but, yes, I guess I am. There’s no proof yet, so I guess I should keep my mouth shut.”
Jen had stayed in the doorway of the small bathroom. Even if she hadn’t been concerned about contaminating the bathroom, she would have stayed out. The quarters were too close for her to comfortably share with the man, so she had hung back while he’d recovered the towel. Now he moved toward her, his gaze holding hers, the corners of his mouth turned up in that half smile. As he looked at her, some of the color returned to his pale cheeks, and he seemed to relax.
But while he relaxed, she tensed up as he closed his hands around her upper arms before she had a chance to step away. Holding onto her, he started to squeeze past her into the hall, his body brushing against hers. Then he stopped. Only inches separated them. They held the position, looking into each other’s eyes, the seconds passing measured by Jen’s heart thudding in her chest, before his smile widened and turned into a mischievous grin.
“Excuse me, Detective Dillon,” he said, “but you’re blocking the door.”
He moved her bodily a couple of feet to the right and eased around her, still holding her arms.
She felt the blood rush to her face but managed to lift her chin and stare defiantly into his blue eyes.
“I thought you were going to call me Jen,” she said and immediately regretted it. Her voice was husky from emotion and lack of breath.
His blue eyes filled with the desire that she had first seen that morning in the conference room. His eyes played over her face, then he reached up and gently touched her chestnut hair. His fingers came away holding a loose strand.
“You have beautiful hair, Jen,” he said softly and teasingly, “ but it looks as if some of it’s liable to contaminate the crime scene. Maybe I should run my fingers through it and get all the loose strands before they fall.”
Jen stared into those gorgeous eyes and knew with a certainty that if she didn’t get a breath into her lungs in the next few seconds, she was done for. She would pass out right on the hall floor—no, she would swoon. That was the only word for it. She would swoon at this man’s feet like some Victorian bimbo.
“Thanks for the offer,” she managed to croak and stepped back, grateful that her legs had obeyed her command, “but I think the coroner’s people can
