CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jan Hillbrush
Evidence Mounts
I stood in the police garage, staring at what was left of Bryony Mikelson's car.
The front end was completely crushed, the driver's side caved in from the impact with the tree. It was a miracle she'd survived at all.
But it wasn't the damage from the crash I was interested in.
It was the damage from before the crash.
"What do we have?" I asked the forensic tech, a guy named Martin who'd been examining the car for the past two hours.
"Plenty," Martin said grimly. "Come look at this."
He led me to the rear driver's side, pointing to a series of scratches and dents in the paint.
"These are fresh—probably from the day of the accident. And look at the paint transfer."
I leaned closer. There was dark blue paint embedded in the scratches.
"From the SUV that hit her," I said.
"Exactly. And there's more." He moved to the front of the car, crouching down near the wheel well. "See this? The brake line was cut. Not completely severed, but damaged enough that her brakes would have failed eventually."
My blood ran cold. "Someone tampered with her car?"
"Yeah. And recently—within the past few days, I'd say. Whoever did this wanted to make sure she crashed. The SUV forcing her off the road was just to speed up the process."
"Jesus Christ." I pulled out my phone and called Jennifer. "Get down to the garage. We've got evidence of tampering. This wasn't just an attempted hit-and-run. This was premeditated attempted murder."
I hung up and looked at Martin. "Can you tell when the brake line was cut?"
"Not precisely. But based on the wear patterns, I'd say within the last 48 to 72 hours."
"So someone had access to her car in the days leading up to the accident."
"Looks like it."
Jennifer arrived a few minutes later, and I filled her in.
"So we're looking for someone who had access to her car and also had access to a dark blue SUV," she said.
"Or hired someone who did." I rubbed my face, exhausted. "We need to look at everyone in her life. Family, friends, coworkers. And we need to dig into her past—find out if there's anyone who might have a grudge."
"What about the husband's mistress? Amelia Junehart?"
"Her alibi checked out. She was at home during the time of the accident, and her car doesn't match the description. Plus, she doesn't have the skills to tamper with a brake line."
"So we're back to square one."
"Not quite." I pulled out my notebook. "Bryony's brother is Luca Carmine. Organized crime. I did some digging, and it turns out Bryony ran away from him two years ago. She didn't want anything to do with his world."
"You think someone from the mob is after her?"
"It's possible. Maybe someone wanted to get to Luca through her. Or maybe she saw something she shouldn't have before she left."
"We should talk to Luca Carmine."
I laughed bitterly. "Good luck with that. Guys like him don't talk to cops. But I'll try."
We headed back to the station, and I put in a call to Luca Carmine's known associates. Unsurprisingly, no one answered.
But an hour later, my phone rang. Unknown number.
"Detective Hillbrush," I answered.
"This is Luca Carmine. I hear you want to talk to me about my sister."
I sat up straight. "Mr. Carmine. Yes, I'm investigating the incident involving Bryony—"
"Ginevra," he corrected. "Her name is Ginevra."
"Right. Ginevra. We have evidence that someone tampered with her car and then forced her off the road. This was a deliberate attempt on her life."
"I know. I've been conducting my own investigation."
Of course he had.
"Mr. Carmine, if you have any information that could help us—"
"I'm not interested in helping you, Detective. I'm interested in finding the person who hurt my sister and making them pay. Your way takes too long."
"Mr. Carmine, I understand you're upset, but vigilante justice—"
"Isn't justice at all, I know. But it's effective. And it's what's going to happen here."
"If you interfere with this investigation—"
"You'll what? Arrest me? Good luck proving anything." His voice was cold. "But I'll give you a piece of advice, Detective. Look into Bryony's husband. Henrik Mikelson. He's not as innocent as he seems."
"We've already questioned him. He has an alibi."
"Does he? Or does he just have a mistress who's willing to lie for him?"
I frowned. "You think Henrik Mikelson tried to kill his own wife?"
"I think he's a piece of shit who cheated on my sister and ignored her when she said she was in danger. Whether he's directly responsible or not, he's guilty."
The line went dead.
I sat back, processing the conversation.
Luca Carmine thought Henrik might be involved. But why would Henrik want his wife dead?
Unless...
"Jennifer," I called out. "Pull Henrik Mikelson's financials. I want to know if he has any life insurance policies on his wife."
"You think he tried to kill her for money?"
"I think we need to rule it out."
An hour later, Jennifer came back with the information.
"Henrik Mikelson has a $500,000 life insurance policy on Bryony. Taken out six months ago."
My gut clenched. "Six months ago. Right around the time he started his affair with Amelia Junehart."
"You think he planned this?"
"I think we need to bring him in for questioning. Again."
We headed to the hospital, where Henrik was still sitting vigil by his wife's bedside.
"Mr. Mikelson," I said. "We need you to come down to the station. We have some more questions."
He looked up, his face pale. "What kind of questions?"
"The kind that are better asked at the station."
He stood slowly, looking at Bryony one last time before following us out.
And as we walked down the hallway, I couldn't help but wonder—was Henrik Mikelson a grieving husband?
Or a would-be murderer?