CHAPTER FOUR
C HAPTER F OUR
Matt followed Bree down the hallway, leaving Dr. Jones and her assistant to finish taking pictures and remove the bodies. He spotted Bree’s chief deputy, Todd Harvey, at the bottom of the steps issuing orders to several new deputies.
Todd was in his thirties. He’d earned his exceptionally lean physique training for triathlons. He was also currently living with Matt’s sister. The deputies dispersed, and Todd turned to Matt and Bree as they descended the staircase. “What did the ME have to say?”
“Time of death is between eight thirty and nine thirty p.m.,” Bree said.
“Where do you want to start?” Matt asked as they skirted a deputy taking pictures of the bloody paw prints on the steps. “Cat or dog?”
“We saw a cat,” Bree said. “We should look for it.”
Matt crouched and found a very well-fed gray tabby perched on a dining room chair. “It’s here.”
“Hold on. I saw a pet carrier in the closet when Zucco and I cleared the place.” Bree went down a hallway and returned with a blue nylon case.
Matt held out a hand. The cat jumped down and rubbed on his fingers. Matt scooped it into his arms. It purred as he rubbed its head. “Friendly.”
Bree opened the pet carrier. “Sounds dumb, but I don’t want Claire to lose her cat on top of everything else.”
“Not dumb at all.” Matt scooted the cat inside and left the carrier in the corner. “Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s do the home office while Dr. Jones finishes upstairs.” Bree headed down the hallway.
With its white cabinets, sleek counters, and modern lines, the kitchen looked like a home magazine spread. A fancy espresso machine and a pricey juicer shared space in the butler’s pantry between the kitchen and dining room. The foods in the fridge were mostly organic. Greens and other fresh vegetables filled the crisper bins to bursting.
Matt gestured to the healthy food. “I guess this is why they both looked so good for their ages.”
Bree shrugged. “And yet they both died relatively young.”
“No argument from me. I’m taking one of Dana’s scones to my grave.” Matt appreciated the baking skills of Bree’s retired former partner, Dana Romano, who’d moved upstate with Bree to help with the kids.
“Same.”
They walked past an island the length of a bowling lane and turned into a short corridor that led to the home office. Matt surveyed the chaos while Bree used her phone to take a video of the room.
Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the back wall. The desk was made of some exotic grained wood that had been varnished to a mirror sheen. Money was always a great motive for murder, and the Masons clearly had some. Drawers had been removed and turned over, their contents spilled onto the floor and desktop. Books had been pulled off the shelves. He bent to examine an overturned drawer. “The lock is broken.”
Bree lowered her phone, leaned closer, and snapped a picture of the busted lock.
Matt eyed two smashed bookends on the floor. “Whoever did this didn’t do it quietly, so the house was searched after the parents were killed.”
Bree moved behind the desk and went down on one knee to look at the underside. “He, she, or they were moving fast too.”
“The search was methodical and quick.” Matt went to a pair of filing cabinets in the corner. One drawer gaped. He tugged it open, turned his head, and read the file tabs, all names of companies. He eyed an empty space in the middle. “These look like business records, and it appears as if some files could be missing.” Though they’d have to find someone familiar with the business records to know for sure.
Bree frowned. “We need to find out what the Masons did for a living.”
“Yes.” Matt scanned the books littering the wood floor and cream-colored area rug. “Did the intruders find what they came for? Or did Claire interrupt the search?”
“They already killed two people in cold blood. Why would they stop at killing her too?”
“Maybe they drew the line at killing a kid?” Matt hoped some people were unable to kill a child. “Maybe they had a personal grudge with the adults but not Claire. Maybe they didn’t know who was arriving.”
“All good theories.” Bree stood and brushed a paper clip off the knee of her uniform trousers. “Whatever the reason, this room has been thoroughly turned over. We need to find out what—if anything—was taken.”
Matt eyed a square on the desktop with no debris. A cord snaked from the desk to the floor, where a charging brick plugged into an outlet. “Seems like there might have been a computer here.” He checked the desk drawers and scanned the bookshelves for more charging ports. “I don’t see any personal electronics either.”
“Most people keep phones and tablets near them. I didn’t see any in the bedroom, but we’ll check more thoroughly after the ME is finished.” Bree propped her hands on her duty belt. “Worst-case scenario, I can have Rory search for an iCloud account. We can access some of their personal information that way.”
County tech Rory MacIniss was a forensic jack-of-all-trades, but he had a special knack with digital information. Electronics contained the detailed trail of a person’s life, from their calendar and contacts to bank accounts, prescription renewals, and store purchases. Most providers stored certain data for only a short period of time. So obtaining cell phone data from the cloud wasn’t optimal. Plus, not everyone remembered to back up their devices regularly.
A deputy appeared in the doorway. “Ma’am? We found a footprint outside.”
Bree and Matt followed him out of the office. On the back patio, a yellow evidence marker sat on the teak table next to a perfect rectangle of glass. Beyond the pavers, the rear lawn was suspiciously green and lush. Flowers overflowed their beds. The yard was large and ringed with full trees and shrubs that provided impressive seclusion in the middle of suburbia.
Matt waved a hand toward the grass. “Looks like someone has been watering regularly back here.”
Bree shook her head. Disobeying watering restrictions wasn’t likely related to the murders, but it did provide insight to the homeowners’ personalities. The lawn out front—in plain view of the neighbors—had plenty of brown spots, but the Masons had watered where no one could see.
The deputy led them to the paver walkway that wound around the side of the property and connected the rear hardscape to the driveway. Low lights in the shrubs illuminated the entire path like a miniature runway.
“How did you get footprints?” Matt asked. “It hasn’t rained in at least a week.”
The deputy pointed to a partial footprint in mud on the gray pavers. “The flower beds are damp. There’s an automatic sprinkler system.”
Matt was suddenly grateful the homeowners had disobeyed water restrictions. He crouched next to one of the prints. “I can’t tell the exact size of the shoe, but it’s big enough to likely be from a man.”
“The tread is visible,” Bree said. “Looks like an athletic shoe. Maybe forensics can find the shoe brand and model.”
The forensics department had access to databases and software for footwear-tread analysis. A match could be useful if they identified a suspect.
Matt turned in a circle. Trees blocked the neighbors’ views on both sides, and the property backed to woods. “They probably waited until dark, but there’s plenty of privacy here.”
“Agreed. You could cut the glass with no one seeing you. Let’s get photos.” Bree walked toward the house. She and Matt toured the rest of the residence, where there were no overt signs of disturbance.
After Dr. Jones and her assistant wheeled the black-bagged bodies out, Matt followed Bree back to the primary bedroom.
Bree headed for Mrs. Mason’s nightstand. “Let’s check for electronics. Most people at this income level have—at minimum—a phone and a tablet or laptop.” Crouching over the bejeweled phone on the floor, Bree used a gloved finger to slide a credit card and a driver’s license out of the wallet attachment on the case. “This is Claire’s phone.” She bagged and tagged it.
Matt checked the husband’s side of the bed. “Nothing.” His gaze dropped to the floor. A thin wire snaked along the carpet. “There’s a phone charger plugged in behind the nightstand.”
“Same here.” Bree straightened from peering into the open nightstand drawer. “Forensics will do a deeper search throughout the whole house, but I would bet whoever did this”—she gestured toward the bed—“also took their devices.”
“But why?” Matt scanned the bed. Without the bodies, the only thing in it was a huge puddle of blood.