Chapter Forty-Two
Forty-Two
Leanne’s eye was killing her.
She shifted the ice pack on her face and squinted at the crowd gathered in front of the gray trailer.
Police vehicles and ambulances and even fire trucks lined the road.
The scene, which was lit up by portable klieg lights, was crawling with cops and first responders, and she didn’t even know them all.
But she recognized the blurry form approaching her.
“Hey,” Mark said, stopping in front of her. For the past ten minutes, she’d been perched on the tailgate of a Chisos Fire and Rescue truck, icing her face as she waited for McBride. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” she said, pulling the ice pack away.
Mark winced. “That looks bad.”
“How’s the chief?” she asked, nodding toward the huddle of law enforcement brass where McBride seemed to be giving a briefing.
“He’s pissed,” Mark told her. “What exactly did you do, anyway?”
“No idea,” she lied. “You’d think he’d be happy we cracked the case finally.”
Leanne knew part of what had gotten under McBride’s skin was the “we.” He didn’t like sharing the spotlight—or the credit—with the sheriff’s office, which included Duncan.
And he sure as hell didn’t like sharing credit with the FBI, which had provided the critical DNA lead that broke the case and ultimately implicated Justin Carr in the string of murders.
“Well, at least he got to have his perp walk,” Leanne said.
After showing up at the scene, the chief had ordered Leanne to stay here for a debriefing while he personally escorted Justin in for booking, which no doubt included parading him in front of any reporters who were there.
“So, what’s he doing here?” Mark said, nodding toward the farmhouse.
Leanne turned around. Sean Moriarty leaned against the front porch, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the scene play out in front of him.
He had refused to talk to investigators until his lawyer showed up, and Leanne didn’t blame him.
He wasn’t under arrest for anything, but he’d been instructed not to leave, and every cop here was treating him like he was radioactive.
“He and Justin Carr have a beef about something,” Leanne told Mark.
“About what?”
She shook her head. “It goes back a long time.”
Mark frowned down at her, clearly picking up on the fact that she knew more than she was saying. But she didn’t plan to reveal anything else. The story would come out at some point, but right now there was still no proof that Justin Carr killed Hannah Rawls.
Leanne believed it.
Sean Moriarty believed it.
But without more evidence, the case was circumstantial, and being left-handed wasn’t a capital offense.
Mark glanced around at the emergency personnel. “Hey, you haven’t seen Josh anywhere, have you?”
“Last I saw, he was in the house.” Leanne nodded toward it. “He and Akers are helping with the search warrant.”
Duncan trudged over, and Leanne braced herself for a confrontation. He had arrived along with the first wave of sirens, and they still hadn’t had a moment alone together.
“Leanne?”
She looked at Mark. “Sorry. What’s that?”
“I said, do you need anything here?”
“No. Thanks, but I’m good.”
Mark nodded. “I’m going to go see if Josh wants a hand.”
He walked off as Duncan reached her.
“Hi,” she said.
He towered over her, hands on hips, his sheriff’s badge dangling from a lanyard around his neck. “You get your head checked out?”
“Not yet.”
“That shiner looks bad, Leanne.”
“It’s not.” She rested the ice pack in her lap. “What’s up?”
“Thought you’d want to know—the FBI is on the way down here.”
“Good for them.”
“This is going to turn into a turf war.”
“It already is.” Leanne surveyed the scene. She’d counted four separate law enforcement agencies so far, and those were just the ones she could see from her vantage point. “What’d you expect? Everyone wants a piece of the action.”
Duncan’s jaw tensed as he stared down at her. He was still unhappy that she’d gone in without him—not to mention that she’d gone in with Sean Moriarty—and she didn’t plan to defend her decision.
“I offered to drive Izzy home,” Duncan said now.
“Izzy? I thought she left already.” Leanne slid off the tailgate and looked around.
“The paramedic was checking her out. He gave her the all clear.”
“You sure? She seemed like she was in shock to me. I think she should go to the clinic.”
“She says she wants to get home.”
Leanne spied Izzy near a fence post talking to Travis Malcom. She wore an oversize Chisos County Sheriff’s jacket that practically swallowed her. Leanne’s heart went out to her.
“Thanks for driving her,” Leanne said. “Tell her I’ll give her a call later.”
“Will do.”
Duncan stared down at her for a long moment.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
He shook his head and walked away.
Leanne watched him go with a lump in her throat. She didn’t know why, really, just that her emotions were raw tonight.
“Leanne.”
She glanced around and spotted Josh beside the door of Justin Carr’s trailer. The quickie search warrant they’d secured had included both buildings on the property.
Leanne left her ice pack on the tailgate and walked over, aware of Sean Moriarty watching her every move.
“What’s up?” she asked Josh.
“You need to see this,” he said in a low voice.
Leanne searched his face. Something in his eyes put her nerves on edge. She mounted the warped wooden stairs and stepped into the trailer.
A familiar click click click came from the back as a forensic photographer snapped pictures.
But it wasn’t Izzy this time. Leanne surveyed the cramped living room.
CSIs had set up a spotlight in the corner to illuminate the scene.
A stained green futon was shoved in the corner opposite a TV, and a woven Mexican blanket lay wadded on the floor beside an empty pizza box.
“Here.” Josh handed Leanne a pair of paper booties to cover her shoes.
Leanne pulled them on and then followed him through the galley kitchen, where a sink overflowed with sour-smelling dishes.
A pair of county CSIs in white Tyvek suits stood in the doorway of the minuscule bathroom lifting fingerprints from the mirror.
“Fellas? You mind?” Josh squeezed past them, and Leanne followed.
Most of the bedroom space was taken up by an unmade bed and a nightstand overflowing with beer bottles. Leanne stared at the rumpled bedding, which would be bagged up and sent to the lab for analysis. Had he brought any victims here? Or was his truck the primary crime scene?
Between the bed and the wall, the forensic photographer knelt on the linoleum floor. Mark—also in paper shoe covers—stood beside the man, peering over his shoulder.
A vent cover had been unscrewed from the floor, and the CSI was photographing a cigar box filled with miscellaneous items.
Leanne’s skin went cold.
“This box was stashed in here,” Josh said.
“What is that?” Mark leaned down. “That leather tube thingie?”
“A lipstick case,” Leanne said.
Mark’s eyebrows arched.
She crouched down for a better look as the CSI used a pair of tongs to sift through the items.
“Is that hair?” Mark asked.
“It is.”
The chunk of dark hair was tied with fishing twine, and the CSI shifted it aside to reveal something beneath—what looked like a white leather wallet.
“What’s that jewelry?” Josh said from behind her. “Go back to that.”
The CSI used the tongs to nudge the wallet aside. A delicate chain caught the light. On it was a silver pendant shaped like a letter A.
Leanne looked over her shoulder at Josh.
“You know any A’s?” he asked.
“I’ll have to check the MP files.” She looked at the box again. “There’s something else tangled in there. Is that a bracelet?”
Beneath the wallet was yet another chain, this one with oval-shaped links.
“A charm bracelet,” Leanne said. Her chest tightened with dread as she leaned closer. She glanced up at Mark. “You mind moving over? You’re in the light.”
He stepped aside, and Leanne got a better look at the silver bracelet. It had several charms on it—a heart, a volleyball, a horseshoe.
Leanne gasped.
“What is it?” Josh asked.
“Oh my God.” She leaned closer to study the silver horseshoe, which had an R inside it.
“Leanne? What is it?”
“The bracelet.” She looked up at Josh. “It belonged to Hannah Rawls.”