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Mark
Mark managed to get out of Genova’s office no worse for wear. The woman had sex appeal in droves, that was for certain, and she knew how to use it.
Still, it seemed a little strange to him that she’d proposition him in light of everything, especially since her former lover was now dead.
Maybe he’d been misreading her.
He drove to Ian Brecunier’s gym, mulling the time with Genova the whole way. The night with her had been amazing, but they’d both resigned themselves that it was wrong. Even though Darby wouldn’t admit it, they both knew how she felt about him, and he of her.
When he’d left Genova, he’d given her a kiss on the forehead and told her in no uncertain terms they could never do what they’d done again.
In his mind, it was final. He hoped it was the same in hers.
Maybe, given the circumstances, he should have been more gentle. Even though she knew what Darby could do, he’d yet to meet a friend or family member of a victim who didn’t initially begin to grieve the loss of their loved one. It was just human nature. Death was meant to be permanent.
Genova was looking for comfort from him. He could see that now when he wasn’t in her presence. Maybe that was a result of their time together.
But whatever it was, he couldn’t dwell on it. She could grieve, but it wouldn’t be on his shoulder.
Ian Brecunier was in the middle of some sort of high energy class when Mark entered his classroom at the gym. Ian led nearly two dozen women ranging from barely old enough to drink to approaching retirement. All the women watched the bare-chested man closely, pools of well-deserved sweat pouring down their faces.
Ian noticed Mark as the music slowed and he led the women in some stretches. He nodded to him, and Mark nodded back.
In the meantime, Mark leaned against the wall and tried not to ogle the women. He tried to distract himself on his comm, then checked to see whether Darby had made it to the crime scene. From the tracking in his comm, it looked like she’d arrived a few minutes earlier. Good. She would be finding out what happened, and perhaps be able to call and give a report soon.
Mark had to wait for the women to leave, and more than a handful straggled, each going up to the trainer and asking him questions that seemed to be about technique, but Mark was pretty sure they were mere excuses to spend time in close proximity to their instructor.
He couldn’t help but be a little envious. It had been a long time since he’d garnered that level of attention. He glanced down at the clothes that covered his donut paunch. Maybe he’d check into Ian’s rates, see about getting back into tip-top shape. He wasn’t exactly out of shape, but he could be better, that was sure.
Finally, the last woman left for the showers, and Ian called, “Detective Herman? Do you have news on Prairie’s murder?”
Mark ambled over. “Just follow-up questions. Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”
Ian grabbed a bottle of water and guzzled half of it. He gave a satisfied sigh before recapping it. “Here’s fine.”
“Was Prairie working on anything secretive in nature?”
He frowned. “Nothing that I can think of.”
“But she worked some on the weekends and in the evenings, right?”
He shrugged. “Sure. She was dedicated. And there were reports and things she said she had to get done.”
“Nothing beyond that?”
“Not that she told me.”
Mark rolled his neck. The tightness he’d expected the night before hadn’t set in until the drive from Genova’s office. And now it hurt. He wished Darby was there to help...
“You were in a wreck yesterday, right?”
“It was on the news.”
“That motion with your neck. You’re hurting?”
“Yeah. Probably should be taking it easy today, honestly.”
“Do you mind if I try to help? I’m a licensed massage therapist. I think I could help with some of your discomfort.”
Mark squinted at him. “Is there anything you don’t do?”
“I don’t do home repair. All thumbs.” Ian smiled disarmingly. “Come on, sit down on the bench. I’d rather do something while we talk.”
“Do I need to take off my shirt?”
“Only if it would make you more comfortable.”
Mark left his shirt on but loosened a couple buttons, and sat down where Ian indicated. “So, Prairie.” Mark started as Ian situated himself behind him. “Did she ever let you look at her work?”
Ian pushed on a spot on Mark’s neck. Pain flared, then dropped to a dull pressure. “I’d come up behind her sometimes and see her screen. It didn’t make a lick of sense to me. She always said it was forms she needed to fill out.”
“Did she ever hide it from you?”
“A few times she’d ask for privacy. Like she did on Sunday.”
“Exception, not the rule, you’d say?”
He shifted his hands lower. “Yep.”
Mark winced.
“Sorry, Detective. You’re a mess of knots. You should see a chiropractor.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” He cringed again, trying not to resist the other man, but wanting to.
“Sometimes,” Ian went on. “Prairie would go into the office on a weekend.”
“How often did that happen?”
“Every few weeks, I guess.”
“Been going on very long?”
Ian pushed on a spot just below Mark’s neck. “About a year, maybe a bit more.”
“Did she go in this past weekend?”
“Hold on. Don’t move.” He went over to a gym bag and pulled out a container. “I was out Saturday morning picking up a couple classes for someone who’s on vacation. She could have gone then. She was gone when I got back. Said she’d met a friend for lunch.”
“Which friend?”
Ian pulled Mark’s shirt back and sprayed something very cold on his neck. It was all he could do not to leap and shriek like a little girl.
“Sorry, Detective. Should’ve warned you. You really do need to go see a chiropractor. Maybe even an acupuncturist.”
Mark stood and straightened his shirt. “Thanks.” He rolled his neck, not terribly surprised that it felt looser. His youngest sister, being a homeopathic doctor, routinely utilized the ancient arts on him. “Which friend?”
Ian frowned, then named one of the women they’d visited the day before who hadn’t said a damn thing to Mark and Darby about seeing Prairie on Saturday.
“Just a sec, I want you to look at someone’s picture.” Mark grabbed his comm and pulled up Richard Pierce’s picture. “Do you recognize this man?”
Ian scrutinized a long moment. “He had coffee a few times with Prairie. What was his name? Ray? Russell? Roger?”
“Richard?”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Richard. Did he kill her?”
Mark shook his head. “It doesn’t look that way. He was found dead at his home this morning. We think they were working on something together.”
“He didn’t work with her, not at the DSHA.”
“Yeah, we know. He’s a superhuman.”
Ian scowled. “Why would a superhuman be working with a DSHA agent?”
“We’re still working on that one.”
“She wasn’t cheating on me with him, was she?”
Mark cocked his head to the side. “Did you suspect she was unfaithful?”
He shrugged, the exuberance from the exercise seeping out of him. “One of her coworkers suggested it. I don’t think she was. I love her. She loved me. Unless she was so desperate to get pregnant...And he’s not a bad looking guy. I can see that. A little on the nerdy side.”
Mark shifted uncomfortably. “Who suggested Prairie was sleeping around?”
“Does it matter?”
“If someone knew something about her,” Mark said gently, “I need to talk to them. It might be they know what got her killed. Anything at this stage could break the case wide open and mean we can bring Prairie back.”
Ian raked his hands through his hair. “Winifred Labbee.”
Mark’s mind raced back to Monday night. She was the woman who had called in the welfare check.
“When did you speak with her?”
“I don’t know. Tuesday? She stopped by the bar.”
“You didn’t mention it before.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”
Mark put his hands on his hips. “Did anyone else stop to see you?”
“Yeah, her boss came in an hour or two later. Wanted to know if I knew about funeral arrangements.” He snorted. “I didn’t think the guy knew who I was.”
“Did either of them ask anything out of the ordinary? Besides suggesting Prairie was sleeping around?”
Ian sighed. “Hunt wanted to know if Prairie brought any work home and said he’d need access to her home to retrieve it. He said he’d need to confiscate her home computer. He can’t do that, can he?”
Mark frowned. “Why did he want it?”
“Said it could have confidential work information on it. But she had all our pictures on it, information on the joint account we have for our wedding...everything.”
Mark folded his arms. “He can’t confiscate her personal property. Even with a warrant, they’d have to prove what they want couldn’t be remotely removed. Then all they’d have is 72 hours and turn it over to you or Prairie’s parents.”
Ian nodded, relief passing over his face.
Mark glanced away, thinking. “Would Prairie have known how to setup a shadow partition to hide that kind of information?”
Ian blew out a breath. “Gosh, I don’t know. She minored in computer science, so I guess?”
Mark was quiet for a moment again as he weighed the information he’d just learned, putting the puzzle pieces together. “How was Winifred’s relationship with Prairie?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember hearing her name before Prairie was murdered.”
Mark ran a hand over his mouth. So why had Winifred shown up at her place and found her body?