Blood of the Demon

“I just wanted to give you a heads-up about your request. I’ll be writing my official report, but I figured you’d want to know that there was no match.”

It took me a few more seconds to process that. “Wait, which case are we talking about?”

I could hear her shuffling paper. “Um, Carol Roth, homicide. And we had a reference sample for Brian Roth.”

I felt like my thoughts were moving at half speed. “No match. So she did not have sex with Brian before she was killed?”

“Well, I can’t tell you if there was penetration or not. Dr. Lanza would have to be the one to determine that. There wasn’t any seminal fluid, so if she did, her partner was likely wearing a condom. But we tested some pubic hair that had been collected and the saliva that was swabbed. The pubic hair had a root, so we were able to do a comparison. It matched the saliva but didn’t match your reference.”

At least I’d been right about that much. Brian was murdered to protect whoever Carol was having sex with. Didn’t help me much, though, except to confirm what I suspected.

I almost missed what Annie said next.

“Wait, back up,” I said. “What?”

“I said that it was close. It wasn’t a match, but it was pretty darn close.”

“What does that mean?” My pulse quickened. I remembered just enough about DNA from college biology that I had a feeling I knew what it meant, but I wanted her to say it.

“Well, it’s highly possible it was someone related to your boy.”

I could almost feel my mouth hanging open. I wanted connections, and here was a whopper of one. I said something that may or may not have been articulate, then closed my phone, gripping it tightly. A rictus of a grin stretched across my face as I felt the pieces click into place.

“Good news?” Ryan prompted.

“In a roundabout way. The DNA on Carol Roth didn’t match Brian’s.”

He frowned. “And how is this good?”

“It was a partial match. There’s a good chance it was someone related to him.”

“Looks like Daddy Roth has been a bad boy,” Zack murmured with a smile.

“He killed Carol,” I said. “It may have been an accident, but he killed her.”

Ryan held up a hand. “But do you think he was capable of killing his son? I know it’s tough to know what goes on behind closed doors, but it sure seems like the two of them were close.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “He wasn’t so close that he had a problem screwing his son’s wife.” Excitement coiled within me as possibilities fell in line. “Plus, the surveillance video from Brian Roth’s subdivision shows Davis Sharp’s car entering at about eleven-thirty that night and leaving about twenty minutes later. There was someone with him too. What if it was Harris Roth? What if Harris panicked after he realized Carol was dead and called his buddy—who also happened to be his biggest political supporter?”

Ryan looked disbelieving. “I’m still having a hard time buying that Harris would be willing to murder his own son—or have him murdered—to cover this up. Screwing your daughter-in-law is one thing, but Roth looked pretty devastated at the funeral. I’m not sure he could have faked that.”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to consider another possibility. “But what if Elena wasn’t having an affair with Harris Roth? What if it was Brian instead? Then perhaps Davis killed Brian for screwing his wife?”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “A crime of passion … where he kept his cool enough to go ahead and stage it as a suicide to cover up Carol’s murder?”

I grimaced. “Yeah, you’re right. It doesn’t fit. And Elena was attracted to ‘powerful men.’ Brian didn’t really fit that bill.” I dropped my eyes to the paper. “Harris Roth is the connection to all of them. I still think Davis Sharp was somehow involved in Brian’s murder, but it doesn’t make sense yet.” Perhaps this was why Elena had been so afraid? Maybe she’d known who killed Brian. “But at least now we have something solid to work with,” I continued. I looked at Ryan. “I figure we can get a warrant for a DNA sample to run a proper comparison, plus a subpoena for Harris Roth’s cell- phone records.”

“With the partial DNA match, I’d say you’re right.”

I nodded. I wanted badly to nail Harris Roth for everything—tie all of the murders up into one nice and neat case—but we didn’t have enough proof yet. “I’ll start typing,” I said. First, nail him on Carol’s death. Then make him squeal on the rest.

Chapter 32

The subpoena for the phone records and the warrant to request a buccal swab from Harris Roth didn’t take long to type up, but it took me nearly as long to figure out what I was going to say to my sergeant. I dialed his number as I paced Tessa’s sitting room, grimacing when Crawford answered on the second ring. This would have been a lot easier to do on his voice mail. But it wouldn’t have been the best, my conscience reminded me.

“Sarge, it’s Kara Gillian.”

“What’s up?”

I quickly explained the DNA results and my theory. Crawford gave a low whistle when I finished. “Damn, Kara. You sure don’t think small, do you?”

I grimaced. “I know. But you gotta admit it makes sense.”

“I can see where you’re going with it, yes.” He paused. “Kara, I hate to point this out, but the Carol Roth murder isn’t your case anymore.”

I could feel myself stiffening. “Sarge, I know, but the detail with the surveillance video and the—”

Crawford cut me off with a sharp laugh. “Don’t sweat that shit. Fuck Pellini and Boudreaux. Lazy, useless fucks. I’ll take care of any heat that comes down about you horning in on the case. Especially since it started out as yours. Easy enough to deal with.”

I let my breath out, relieved. “Thanks, Cory.”

“But, Kara,” he continued, “if you’re wrong about this, you’re killing your career. Even a buccal-swab warrant is going to be a big slap in the face for a public figure of that stature. I’m not gonna tell you not to go ahead with this, but I want to be sure that you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” I said, trying to fill my voice with as much confidence as possible.

I heard him sigh gustily. “All right. I can meet you in about half an hour at—”

“Sarge,” I interrupted him. “I … think it would be better if you, um, didn’t come.” I cringed at how that came out. But there was no easy way to put it. If Harris Roth could kill by ripping essence out, I didn’t want to risk having someone there who had no way to defend himself or even know if he was in danger.

“I’m your sergeant, Detective Gillian,” he reminded me, tone distinctly frosty.

I framed my words carefully. “Sarge, you once said that you’d seen a lot of shit in your career, and you were probably more willing than most to believe that some things defy explanation.”

He was silent for several heartbeats. “And … this is one of those things that defy explanation?” I could hear the disbelief in his voice, but I thought I could also sense the barest edge of acceptance.

“It is, Sarge. I … I just need you to trust me.” I rolled my eyes at myself. Holy crap, but that sounded lame, even to me. “Look,” I said quickly before he could say anything else, “when all of this is over, I promise I’ll give you as much explanation as you want.” If you really want it, I thought. And if everything works out.

He fell silent again, but I could hear background noise, so I knew we hadn’t been disconnected. “Is Agent Kristoff going with you?” he said finally.

My shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes, he is.”

I heard him sigh again. “Fine. Keep me posted. I’ll cover as well as I can if there are any questions.”

He was hanging his own ass on the line for me as well, I knew. “Thanks, Sarge.” I didn’t add anything trite like I won’t let you down or you won’t regret it. There was too good a chance that either or both could happen.

“Be careful, Kara.”

“I will.”

I hung up, then clipped the phone back onto my belt, finding myself actually admiring Cory Crawford.

I jogged up the steps of the courthouse while Ryan circled the block to avoid the trouble of finding a parking place. We’d left my car at my aunt’s house. It was such a piece of crap that I was willing to use any excuse to get out of having to drive it. I flashed my badge at the security guard as I passed through the metal detector, ignoring the obnoxious beep. I glanced quickly at the schedule taped to the desk, pleased and relieved to see that the duty judge was again Judge Laurent. I’d experienced several moments of worry on the way over to the courthouse, running through improbable and not-so-improbable scenarios about judges refusing to sign the warrant for a fellow judge. I didn’t think I’d have any problems with Judge Laurent.

His secretary was shutting her computer down as I entered the office. She looked up at me with an expression that clearly told me she wouldn’t be happy with me if I made her stay past her usual quitting time.

I gave her my best winning smile. “I’m sorry to come in so late, but this should take only a second. Is Judge Laurent still here? I need a warrant for a buccal swab and a subpoena for phone records signed.”

She sighed. “He’s still here.” She held out her hand for my folder.

“I really appreciate it,” I said with what I hoped was enough fervor.

She just gave a brisk nod as she passed through the doors leading to the judge’s office. A few minutes later she returned without the folder. “You can go on back,” she said, holding the door open for me.

I nodded thanks as I passed by her. The look she gave me in return was narrow-eyed and measuring—no longer the bored resignation. She must have glanced at it, I realized. Oh, well. In less than an hour, everyone would know.

Judge Laurent didn’t look worried or upset. He looked positively gleeful as I stepped into his office and shut the door behind me. “So, you’re gonna nail that randy horn-dog to the wall for boffing his son’s wife to death?” He cackled as he signed the warrant and subpoena in an overly large script, as if to be sure that no one could be mistaken about who had signed it.

“Well, sir, I don’t have anything solid yet. That’s why I need this DNA sample.”

“Ha! You’ll get it. That sonofabitch has nailed or tried to nail every pretty girl in this city. Can’t believe his wife puts up with it.” He shook his head as he handed the folder back to me with the signed warrant. “Maybe she figures being married to a judge is worth dealing with all the women.”

I accepted the folder from him, bemused. “I appreciate your time, sir. I’m hoping this works out the way I think it will.”

He gave me a wide grin. “You just be sure to come back to me when you need the arrest warrant signed.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Absolutely, sir.”

I was still smiling as I let myself out, unsurprised to find that his secretary had left already. I pulled my cell phone out and dialed Ryan’s number as I exited the courthouse.