Chapter 26
Knight stepped outside the small police post, Ian on his heels, after they’d been back in the small building for hours.
He needed to clear his head—from Miranda.
They’d been almost pressed against each other for several hours.
Lindhour’s station house was incredibly small.
He thought his hotel room was actually bigger.
He took a few hours with Ian and tracked down Kevin’s closest friends outside of softball coaching.
They confirmed no known problems, in his work or professional life.
Miranda and Lindhour were tracking down members of Kevin’s daughter’s team, and anyone who may have interacted with them on that field.
Knight was nearly one hundred percent convinced Kevin had known his killer, but that the attack had not been planned.
So finding someone who would have just been there at the field naturally was their best bet.
No one had sought out Kevin that night, he was almost convinced of it. He wasn’t sure about Harper, though.
“It seems odd,” the man beside him said. “It is obvious to me that he knew his killer. And Harper did, as well. But both crime scenes show hesitation—and confidence. Like, the killer was nervous of what he was doing—and then he changed his mind. And was almost methodical about it. Clinical.”
Knight had noticed the same thing. It was one of the reasons he believed they were talking about the same killer. “Once he began—he was determined to finish.”
“My thought exactly. Maybe he didn’t arrive with the intent to kill?
Maybe there were arguments that devolved?
Just…devolved?” Ian was very methodical in how he interpreted crime scenes.
He was also very good at interpreting motivation based on forensic information.
Analytical, Miranda had said. Ian’s mind went step-by-step when in the POV of a killer.
He was probably their best at putting together exactly what had happened from a technical standpoint, but preferred to let someone else factor in the motivation.
He was a damned invaluable part of the Cold Case team, no denying that.
“There is someone in a sheriff’s vehicle,” Ian said. “Friend of Deputy Lindhour’s?”
“Hardly.” Knight recognized the sheriff stepping out of the SUV that had just parked. “The exact opposite. Sheriff Johnson. And one of his lackeys.”
Johnson came right up to them. “Agent Knight.”
“Doctor Knight,” Ian said. He was a bit of a stickler for details. “He is Dr. Knight, she is Dr. Talley—inside, tall redhead—and I am Dr. Ian Ward. It is nice to meet you.”
Ian handed the sheriff his card. Knight had the feeling Miranda had filled him in on her opinion about Johnson. Ian liked to needle people at times. And he was fiercely loyal to Miranda. And always championed underdogs—which Lindhour most certainly was.
“Whatever,” Johnson barely looked at him. “I need to speak to my deputy. Where the hell is that girl now?”
Well, something had pissed off the sheriff. Knight could only imagine what.