Chapter 31 Dominique
Dominique
My phone rang at quarter after twelve as I lay in bed, staring at an obscure rectangle of light that climbed the wall and bled across half the ceiling. Every time a car drove by, it distorted the shape, making it crawl across the room until it settled once again in its original spot.
I rolled, grabbed the phone from the side table, and tumbled out of bed to my feet. Drawing the curtain over the window, cutting out the streetlight and the abstract display painted across the ceiling, I answered the call.
“Did I wake you?” Kobe asked.
“No. Can’t sleep. Are you still at the office?” We had been playing phone tag all afternoon. After receiving Kobe’s message post-autopsy, I’d tried to return his call three times, only for it to go to voicemail.
He had called back after I got home, but I was in the shower and missed it.
Kobe blew out a ragged breath. “Just pulled in my driveway. The interview with Fatemeh lasted for hours, then Golding showed up and insisted I take her through the whole investigation up to that point, making a long list of things I needed to do yesterday, and why haven’t I solved it yet?
Rue called, and I had to regurgitate the interview and Golding’s orders.
After that, I made a million phone calls, none of which were received well because it’s a fucking holiday. ”
He groaned, and I heard an engine die, a car door slam, and keys jingle.
“And?” I asked.
“And I don’t know what to think. I didn’t feel like I had a reason to hold Fatemeh, so I sent her home. Were you able to narrow down a time of death for Malik?”
I wandered to the kitchen and turned on the kettle before leaning back against the counter. “Not as accurately as you would like.”
“Meaning?”
“Taking all factors into account—the subzero temperature outside, the length of time a body takes to freeze under those conditions, and the state of the body upon thawing—I would say death occurred between twenty-four to sixty hours prior to us locating him.”
Kobe cursed under his breath. “Are you sure you can’t shrink that window?”
I stayed silent, and Kobe sighed heavily, knowing my answer wouldn’t change.
“Okay. Fine. So that’s what? Anywhere from early morning on the twenty-fourth to Christmas afternoon-ish?”
“Yes.”
Kobe didn’t speak for a long minute, and I let him think as the rumbling sound of water boiling filled the dark kitchen. I clicked off the kettle before the button popped and poured hot water over the tea bag I’d dropped in my favorite mug.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more accurate.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand. Can I send you a picture?” Kobe asked as I impatiently squished the tea bag with the back of a spoon, encouraging rapid infusion. My mother would tsk my impatience.
“Go ahead.”
The phone buzzed with an incoming text, and I drew up the image so it filled the screen. A picture of a familiar woman stared back at me. Persian, luxurious dark hair, glowing skin, a seductive turn of her mouth.
“Who is this?” I asked as I tried to place the woman’s face. “I recognize her, but I don’t know why.”
“Fatemeh Kordestani. She goes to your gym.”
The light bulb inside my brain illuminated. Typically, I saw her in gym shorts and baggy hoodies, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. “That’s right. I’ve seen her there.”
“Was she there on Christmas morning when you went?”
I stalled, thinking backward in time. Those weren’t details I concerned myself with. I had been locked in the zone.
Kobe spoke before I could reply. “I have a call in to the owner of the facility and a warrant drawn up for a judge to sign so I can confirm if she was there. I’m not sure it matters.
That window you gave me is huge, and she claims to have been at home alone for most of that time frame anyhow.
Any honesty she gives us will probably check out, but it proves nothing.
This woman is cunning and hasn’t been entirely truthful to this point.
Something about her rubs me the wrong way.
She’s smug and confrontational and so fucking confident. ”
“Do you believe she’s responsible?”
A pause. The distant sound of a beer can opening came through the line. “I believe she’s capable, but that’s not the same. She’s clever enough to get away with murder. Maybe that’s what I see. It’s like she’s daring me to call her out. But… there are things that don’t line up.”
“Like?” I sipped my tea, but it was still too hot, and I burned the tip of my tongue, so I set it aside.
“Shoe size. She wears a woman’s ten. We took a print at the first scene, and it was made by a man’s Timberland winter boot in a size ten and a half.”
“I see.” Hesitating, not wanting to encroach on Kobe’s investigation or mislead him by offering an opinion, I mulled over what to say. At the same time, a sense of urgency forced me to speak. “Maybe you shouldn’t rely so heavily on data.”
“What do you mean?”
“Numbers mean little, particularly in this case. Could Navid have left behind an old pair of Timberlands? Roll a pair of socks in the toes, and Fatemeh could get by with wearing them. She’s intelligent. Why not go to lengths to deceive?”
Kobe huffed. “I’m not sure this woman’s fashion sense would allow that. Fatemeh is arrogant, vain, egotistical, self-loving—”
“You sound like a teenager with a crush.”
He laughed. “Oh, I assure you. I’m not. Either way, I’m not eliminating her yet.
Something doesn’t sit right. Rue will hopefully be back tomorrow.
I have one of the administrators coming in at nine for a formal interview.
He gave a vibe the last time we talked to him, and Golding is insisting we cross our t’s and dot our i’s.
His daughter went to school with our three uni vics but split the second her older sister graduated for reasons the man couldn’t or wouldn’t explain.
His daughters both have dark hair. Rue thinks it’s irrelevant, but I don’t. ”
“Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.” Kobe sighed. “I miss you.”
“You should have come here instead.”
“It’s the middle of the night. I didn’t want to assume, and I figured you’d be asleep.”
“Nope. What are you doing right now?”
“Lounging with a beer. Decompressing. I need a shower and sleep, but my head is spinning.”
“I could have helped you relax.”
“Don’t tempt me. I can be at your house in under fifteen minutes, then neither of us will sleep tonight.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“How did the autopsy go? Anything I should know?”
“I’ll have a preliminary report in your inbox tomorrow.” I took my tea to the table, sitting in the shadows of the kitchen as I peered into the snow-covered backyard. Cosette’s tracks from earlier were illuminated by the faint offering of the crescent moon.
“Is there anything you can share now?”
“Several defensive wounds this time. We took samples from under the nails and swabbed an area on the back of his hand. It appeared to have been impaled by a tooth.”
“So I might get DNA yet?”
“Possible.”
Kobe seemed to hesitate, then lowered his voice. “Question, and this is off the record.”
I stilled, my mug halfway to my mouth, skin crawling with anticipation. Setting the mug down, I urged him to continue.
“If I gave you a hair sample, could you tell if it matched the one we found today?”
“That’s a fundamental part of why we collect samples, Kobe.
Although nuclear DNA analysis is best performed on a root for inclusion or exclusion purposes, a microscopic analysis of a rootless hair can provide comparative characteristics such as color, texture, or the presence of damage.
Alongside one another, it’s not unreasonable to determine if two samples came from the same source.
Do you have another sample? I can send it along and request that the lab perform—”
“No. Dominique, listen. Can you do it? Is that within your skill set?”
“Oh.” I rolled the question around, unsure where he was going with this.
“I know the results wouldn’t be admissible in court, but I don’t care. I know you aren’t the expert, and there might be a margin for error, but I’m asking on a personal level. For me and no one else.”
My heart thrummed. My ears rang. “Why?”
Silence, and I got the sense Kobe’s internal debate roared as loud as mine.
“Inclusion or exclusion, right? I want to know which way to steer the investigation.”
Away from the culprit or toward them? What exactly did he mean?
I could make the excuse that I wouldn’t know what to look for, but it would be a lie.
The process was simple enough. In the end, my heart decided for me.
Kobe and I had built a relationship on the ashes of our damaged pasts.
He’d blown new life into my deflated lungs, drawing me from the pits of grief and despair, showing me joys I’d forgotten existed.
Kobe was passionate and sensitive. He was strong yet emotionally compromised in many ways. If he chose to define justice in a way that didn’t support the rules of society, I would embrace that decision. I would protect him however I could to ensure he walked away unharmed.
I had never claimed to be a saint, and he had never claimed to be without fault.
“It’s within my skill set. What do you have?”
I couldn’t see it, but I sensed the boyish smile taking shape on his lips. “I played the respectful gentleman after my interview with Fatemeh and helped her with her coat. It enraged her, of course, but it got me what I wanted.”
“A strand of hair.”
“Yep.”