Chapter 11 #2
“Yes, really,” Addison said, polishing off the last of her muffin with a smile.
“You’ve got Esme’s back, and I’ve got yours.
Plus, while I can’t prove it, obviously, I wouldn’t put it past Navarro to commit arson to destroy evidence.
That guy”—she rolled her eyes—“is a complete douche burger. So, come on. Step one is investigating. Let’s go see what we can find out about this fire. ”
Before either of them could move, Addison’s cell phone buzzed from the breakfast bar, sending Chloe’s heart into a sprint.
“Oh, God. Did the RFD find out about the DNA kits yet?”
The two seconds it took Addison to read the message on her screen lasted at least a month. “I don’t know. But that was Tara.”
No, no. No, no, no. If Tara was texting Addison this early, the news couldn’t be good. “What did she say?” Chloe managed.
“Nothing, yet. But she just called a meeting for an hour from now to talk about the case. Intelligence, Arson Investigation, and—”
Chloe’s phone vibrated with an incoming text, the request on the screen filling her chest with dread.
“Child and Family Services,” she finished.
The next thirty minutes rushed by in a series of power-texts (Chloe’s) and an impressively expeditious shower/get dressed/get out the door routine (Addison’s).
Chloe’s texts with Tom quickly revealed that he knew only what she did; namely, that there had been a fire at the lab where Navarro’s DNA was stored and that Tara wanted them to come in ASAP for a “situational awareness” meeting, whatever that meant.
Addison volunteered to drive, which ended up shaving ten minutes off the twenty-five-minute commute, and Chloe spent every single one of them forcing herself not to fidget.
“And you’re sure Sinclair doesn’t know anything new about the condition of Navarro’s DNA kit?” she asked Addison, her heel tapping ever so slightly beneath the table in the conference room they’d been shown into upon arrival.
“Unfortunately, I do not,” came a gravelly voice from the doorway, and speak of the devil. Sinclair crossed the room, his gray eyes betraying no emotion. “Morning, Chloe. Hale.”
Addison nodded in greeting. “Boss.”
“Good morning, sergeant,” Chloe’s manners made her say. Her anxiety added, “So, no news at all?”
Sinclair shook his head. “The last update I got was that the RFD and Arson Investigation were still working to assess the cause of the fire, and that RPD brass had called in forensic experts to transport the DNA kits for analysis. But I’d guess Tara has something to share, otherwise she wouldn’t have called us in. ”
“That doesn’t automatically mean the news is bad,” Addison said preemptively.
But then, Ryan and Tyler walked into the room, accompanied by a thirty-something white woman wearing an RFD uniform, complete with a crisp button-up shirt bearing a badge that read Remington Fire Department, Arson Investigation Unit, N.
Delacroix, and okay. Shit just got very real.
“Hey,” Ryan said, exchanging a thousand-word glance with Addison where most of the words were some variation of “I really fucking love you”. “Sorry we’re cutting it close. We had to wait until our shift ended.”
“Why are you two here?” Chloe heard her lack of social graces only after it had escaped, her heart doing a full backflip in her chest—why did Tyler smell so good after a full shift at the fire house?—but he rescued her with a fast answer.
“The Arson Investigation Unit asked us to help piece this one together, since we were the first two firefighters on the scene. We were giving our reports to Nat when she got called in, and she figured we should come, too, in case Tara or Intelligence needs an initial assessment.”
Looking at the redhead who had come in with them, Ryan shook his head. “Ah, right. You two probably don’t know each other. Nat Delacroix, this is my sister, Chloe Ferguson. Nat’s from Arson Investigation. She worked with Faurier and Lucy on that serial arsonist case earlier this year.”
Chloe fought—and probably failed—to keep her face in neutral. Between Ryan and the news, she’d heard enough about that case to know it had been gravely serious, with lives on the line. Including Sam and Lucy’s.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Nat said. Before they could get past a handshake, though, Tom and Maxwell both came in from the hallway, and everyone began taking seats at the large table in the center of the room.
“I guess that’s our cue,” Addison said, nodding a silent greeting at her big, broody partner before turning to look for an open spot. Chloe moved to do the same, but the sound of Tyler clearing his throat stopped her, mid-step.
“Breakfast,” he murmured, her heart vaulting in a perfect ten against her breastbone as he held out a package of mini-cinnamon rolls and a bottle of cranberry juice. “And before you argue, just remember, I have ulterior motives.”
She caught her laugh, but not her smile. “Ah. Right. The Burrito Hut.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
Tyler passed the rolls and juice over, his fingers brushing hers in the exchange. The touch was slight—barely there, if she were being brutally honest. But that didn’t stop her from feeling it in about six different places, half of them NSFW.
Thankfully, Tara saved Chloe from herself by striding into the room.
Her long auburn hair was pulled into a sleek French twist, her navy-blue suit dress and heels a perfect match for her authority and confidence, and she waited only a beat for Tyler and Chloe to get seated, then turn their attention to the front of the room where she stood.
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming on such short notice. You’re all here because you’re trusted members of the RFD, the RPD, and CFS.
That said, for the record, all of the case information we’re going to discuss in this meeting is extremely sensitive and highly confidential.
It doesn’t leave this room under any circumstances. Are we all clear on that?”
A series of murmurs and nods went up across the group. For the sake of awareness, Tara introduced everyone in the room by name and title, and for the sake of candor, she dove into business directly afterward.
“As you’re all aware, Squad Six responded to a two-alarm fire last night at the Dynamics Lab Corporation, which, among other things, is where the Remington Police Department tests, analyzes, and stores the forensic samples collected at crime scenes.
I don’t have to tell any of you that this situation has more than a few potentially bad outcomes.
But the one we’re all gathered here to discuss is that the DNA kit holding the forensic evidence in the Leo Navarro case may have been either damaged or destroyed. ”
“May have been,” Chloe repeated, her cheeks flushing hot when everyone in the room turned to look at her. But she’d been in for a penny the second she’d opened her mouth, so she added, “We still don’t know for sure yet?”
Tara shook her head. “Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy.
Forensic investigators were on the scene as soon as it was cleared by the RFD, but chain of custody protocols for DNA kits are very rigorous.
Properly removing the kits and re-securing the contents in a controlled environment, then analyzing the forensic evidence that’s left to determine its integrity is definitely a process.
The Navarro kit is top priority”—this, Tara aimed at Chloe, probably because she saw the protest brewing on her face—“since, obviously, the DNA is crucial evidence. But it’s going to take some time before we know for sure. ”
“How long are we talking about, here?” Tom asked, and Chloe’s stomach tightened at the way Tara pressed her lips together before answering.
“Two to three weeks.”
Chloe threw every effort into not letting her jaw fall all the way to the floor. “I’m sorry. Did you say weeks?”
“I know it feels like forever,” Tara said.
“But if we don’t follow chain of custody rules to the letter, then Navarro’s attorney will have grounds for a motion to dismiss the forensic evidence altogether.
He’s already foaming at the mouth over the search warrant.
We need to make sure every part of the process gets done properly to prove that nothing was tampered with or compromised. ”
Just because it made sense didn’t mean Chloe needed to like it. “Okay, but isn’t two to three weeks an awfully long time?”
Tara shook her head, although not unsympathetically. “The backlog can be up to three months, and with how many evidence kits may have been damaged in last night’s fire, two to three weeks is a gift. The best we can do right now is wait out the process and hope the DNA is still viable.”
Tyler cleared his throat in a low rumble from his spot beside Chloe at the table. “Okay, so, what happens in the meantime? What’s the plan?”
The question was so direct that it knocked the wind out of Chloe’s spiraling emotions, allowing her to focus on Tara’s answer instead of her own slamming heartbeat.
“We keep investigating,” she said, no hesitation.
“I know the search was a bust, but there’s got to be something somewhere that connects Navarro to this murder.
That knife is distinct, so let’s start there.
Plus, it didn’t just disappear into thin air.
If it isn’t in the bottom of a river, I want it. ”
“Copy that,” Sinclair said, and Addison chimed in.
“What about this fire? I know Nat and her team have to investigate”—she sent a nod to the arson investigator—“but if Navarro is responsible, we could get him for arson. I mean, I think we can all agree that, at the very least, this fire looks suspicious.”
To Chloe’s frustration, Tara played Devil’s Advocate. “What it looks like and what we can prove aren’t always the same thing.” She turned to look at Nat. “What do we know about the fire so far?”