“And this is a problem now that you have pubes, why?” DB asked, resting his chin on his fist.
“It isn’t for me.” I shrugged my shoulders. “It wasn’t back then, either. I’m just saying he had a problem with me for a while.”
Straightening back up again, DB chuckled. “Just as well you’ve both got hair on your balls now and are professionals.”
I couldn’t say anything to that because it was true.
Just as I followed Alex to the door, though, I turned around and looked at DB. “They’re trying to tie up their loose ends, aren’t they?”
His top lip curled at the question. “Seems that way, but we’re just going to have to untie them again.”
Reaching out, I shook the hand held out to me. “Ortiz, long time, no see.”
One side of his mouth tipped up. “Just what I was saying, Richards.”
“You’re not going to try and punch me again, are you?” I asked as he moved to shake Alex’s hand.
Bursting out laughing, he pointed at the door to Palmerstown Police Department. “I was a dick back then, but time’s taught me the error of my ways, man. We’re good.”
Following behind him, I took in the grandeur of the building, comparing it to how ours looked not long ago before it was upgraded thanks to private funding. Whereas our mayor had spent public funds for his own benefit, Palmerstown’s had plowed it into trying to make their town match something out of a movie. Well, aside from the Police Department, which was a glass and metal monstrosity that looked grotesque and out of place.
“We sent the residue report through to the main lab,” he told us as we walked down a hallway to a door where he swiped a card through a reader, then put in a pin code on a keypad. “Just an aside, the building is as ostentatious as fuck for such a small town. We all hate it, but it is what it is. You’re going to want to bleach your eyes by the time you walk out, though.”
Glancing at Alex, I saw him looking amused by this. He’d worked in Houston for years, so he knew how large departments looked and worked. No doubt he was looking at it all the same way I was—which was that Kapono was right.
“If we need to have a cavity search to get a coffee, I’m sure you’ll know how we feel about it,” Alex chuckled, then sobered up. “What did they say about the levels of residue?”
“What we thought.” Kapono opened the door of a conference room and waved us inside. “The amount of residue isn’t conducive with someone shooting a weapon five times, it’s just too low. According to the doctor dealing with Cinder, the lack of stippling around the wound indicates it was held farther away from her head than a normal suicide victim would have.”
While the last point wasn’t unexpected, it wasn’t conclusive that she hadn’t done it.
“It’s not impossible, though,” I pointed out, taking a seat at the long table. “Some people who are determined to kill themselves still can’t hold the barrel against their heads because it’s too scary for them. Holding it at a distance helps them with what they’re about to do.”
It was unnecessary to point it out, seeing as how he was a detective, but we needed to have all of the facts out on the table at all times.
“You’re right,” he conceded, “but the doctor who operated on her said the angle that the bullet entered her head was nigh on impossible for her to shoot herself at that distance.”
Both Alex and I straightened at the smirk on Kap’s face.
“Go on.”
Holding up a diagram with a head on it, he pointed at a red dot near the top of the skull. “That’s where the bullet entered.”
Then, pointing at one below that of a side visual of the head, he added, “And that’s where the bullet stopped. If you look at the wound, the gunpowder didn’t burn the skin like it would if she’d held it herself. In fact, there isn’t that much evidence of it. Interestingly enough, we’ve also had a preliminary autopsy report back on Jordy Watts.”
Using Diego’s real name threw me for a second because I’d been so focused on the diagram in front of me. Thankfully Alex was more on the ball than I was.
“Let me guess, one of the bullets entered the body after he died,” he drawled.
“Exactly. So, that accounts for the GSR on her hand. We’ve requested that the hospital measure her arms under the watch of the officer on her door to make sure it’s done properly, and then we’ll be able to confirm that attempted suicide doesn’t factor in.”
The door opened, and in walked the sheriff, Judd Bailey.
“Bell, Richards,” he greeted dryly.
The man was as serious as they came and roughly the same age as DB was. There were actually a lot of similarities between the two men, including the fact that they’d had to maneuver under the watchful eye of a corrupt mayor, ensuring the safety of the residents of their towns.
Some might ask how they’d done it under those conditions, but I knew from DB that he’d been biding his time and collecting evidence and proof for when he could bring it all forward. I’d be lying if I said that we hadn’t all helped him out with the endeavor, and I had zero doubts that Bailey’s team did the same. A tight case is the best case.
“Thanks for having us, Judd,” I greeted, standing to shake his hand.
Once Alex had done the same, and we were all seated, Judd jumped right in without preamble. “So, we have a problem. Our mayor, Mick Johansen, worked with King Kirkwood to have Jordy Watts released after we caught him dealing in town. Two people are in hospital in comas because of the drugs he sold them, but there appears to have been a glitch—“ he ground his
