Natalie went back to her office, where she gathered up her notes and bit her cheek out of nervousness, a salty warmth surging into her mouth. She noticed that her ID badge had a spot of something on it. She wiped off the spot with shaky fingers, then straightened her clothes. You can do this.
Conference room A was reserved for monthly staff meetings and department trainings. Conference room B was reserved for team meetings and strategy reviews. She walked into a room full of grim faces, subdued voices, and notebooks full of details. All the guys sat around the polished laminate table, watching her expectantly. The fluorescent lights weren’t flattering to anyone. Foam coffee cups were strewn about, along with pens and extra pads of paper.
Natalie took a seat and spread out her case file before her. Daisy Forester Buckner: Homicide.
Luke took a seat at the head of the table. “Good afternoon, everyone.”
“Afternoon, Lieutenant,” came the muffled response.
“I’m going to be asking a lot from you in the coming weeks. The department is stretched thin, which means we’re going to have a lot of overlap. There’ll be plenty of overtime available. It can’t be helped. The chief has authorized it. Budget’s tight, but he’s made it a priority. So let’s all pitch in. Natalie? Why don’t you begin.”
Chairs inched forward as the men reached for their notebooks and coffees.
“Here’s what we know so far,” she said. “At nine o’clock last night, the coroner made his TOD determination, which the autopsy confirmed. The victim died of blunt-force trauma to the head, between four and six P.M. on Wednesday evening. The homicide appears to have been unplanned and spontaneous. No sign of premeditation. Daisy was reaching into the refrigerator for a can of Coke when she received a blow to the right side of her skull with the medium-size skillet. No defensive wounds. No sign of a struggle. She wasn’t expecting the attack.
“Other than the bloodstains inside the kitchen, luminol showed no other hits, with one exception—a minute amount of blood was found on the front doorknob, both inside and outside. Type A blood, which matches Daisy’s. It looks as if the front doorknob was wiped clean of prints—so it’s a mystery as to how the blood trace got there. No other latents were found at the primary scene that didn’t match Daisy’s or Brandon’s—but we’re still processing the voluminous trace. No prints were found on the handle of the skillet—we can deduce it was wiped clean. No prints on the stove dials … also wiped clean. Back doorknob, no viable prints were captured except for Daisy’s and Brandon’s. We can assume the killer didn’t walk into the house wearing latex gloves, so the prints must’ve been eliminated after the fact—or else Daisy let the killer in. There was a rumpled dish towel on the floor next to the skillet—we found traces of blood on the towel, so it was most likely used to wipe off the prints. Considering this wasn’t a preplanned attack, the killer kept a very level head.
“We canvassed the neighborhood. Nobody saw or heard anything unusual during the time frame, although most of the neighbors weren’t home between four and six o’clock. A lot of working professionals with no kids. Those who were home during the time frame didn’t report anything unusual, with three exceptions—” She paused to flip through the pages. “A resident two streets over reported seeing a UPS truck dropping off packages in the neighborhood, while another resident ten blocks south of the Buckner house said she noticed a white GMC van in the area that afternoon, parked by the side of the road for a few minutes. Another witness several streets over claimed she saw a red Camaro speeding past her home at around six thirty P.M., which is outside the TOD estimate. We’ve impounded Riley’s vehicle for further testing, but haven’t found any trace linking him to the scene so far. We’ll follow up on those vehicles, and also look into surveillance footage, which I’ll touch upon in a minute.
“The Buckner residence is recessed from the road, and there are plenty of trees in the fenced-in yard, with thick woods all around. The properties in this area consist of one- to three-acre lots. The Buckners’ closest neighbor is two hundred feet away. Nobody lives across the street from them—just an overgrown field and woods. The state park abuts the property, and there are thickly wooded conservancy lands back there for at least a mile or so. The perp could’ve come and gone without notice. Due to yesterday’s rain, we didn’t find any footprints or tire tracks on the property.
“Which brings us to surveillance cameras,” Natalie said, turning the page. “Bear in mind, despite the rural surroundings, Wolf Pass is one of our busier roads, since it’s the quickest route from Elizabeth Falls to Burning Lake. They get a fairly steady rate of traffic. It will take a while to collect all the pertinent traffic tapes, and we’ll need volunteers to search through the material. This will be time-consuming. Most of the cameras monitoring traffic are located in the downtown area, which doesn’t help much, but it’s a start. I’ve assigned Officer Troy Goodson to retrieve all available video footage from the intersections and businesses closest to the residence, for expediency’s sake. The time frame will fall between three and seven P.M., just to be thorough. We’ll be looking for Riley’s vehicle on the surveillance tapes, along with any other unusual vehicle sightings, plus the two others on our witness list.
“Small traces of blood were found on the hoodie Riley was wearing last night when he was transported to the hospital. The blood type matches Daisy’s, not his or Brandon’s, and the state lab is performing a DNA test to see if it’s a match for Daisy Buckner. No other blood type was found on the clothing. Daisy’s is type A-positive blood, which is shared by about thirty-four percent of the population. We’ve sent the rest of Riley’s clothes—both outfits he wore that day—to the state lab for further testing, along with the evidence we gathered from the Skinner household. It’ll be processed in the coming days.”
Natalie took a pause, while the men shifted in their seats and sipped their coffees.
“As far as we can piece together,” she went on, “the victim got home from her job around two forty-five, changed out of her work clothes, took a shower, answered emails until three oh-eight P.M., and perused the internet until three seventeen P.M. She was looking at baby things on her computer, but she also purchased two ebooks, The Breakup Bible and Getting Past Your Breakup. We believe Brandon might be able to shed some light on these purchases, and we’re negotiating with his attorney to set up a formal interview. All activity stops around three seventeen and, at some point, Daisy went into the kitchen to cook a casserole. That was her last known activity.” Natalie turned the page. “We did a grid search of the property and found a few items in the backyard which may or may not be pertinent. A gardening glove, a trowel, and over a dozen wooden stakes tied with rags, all of which appear to be related to a landscaping project. We’re reviewing all of this trace.” She sat back. “Any questions?”
Detective Lenny Labruzzo spoke up first. “This is where Brandon’s cooperation would be enormously helpful. So why’d he lawyer up? What’s he afraid of?”
“It’s a precautionary measure in response to his suspension,” Natalie said. “He was over the alcohol limit and he shouldn’t have been driving. We all know this.”
“Brandon’s actions are totally relatable,” Mike Anderson said. “His wife had just been murdered.” Squat as a bulldog, the thirtysomething detective had a disgruntled disposition and sad-sack eyes as gray as the residue at the bottom of a shot glass.
“Rather than jump to any conclusions, let’s wait until Brandon comes in for an interview,” Natalie suggested.
“When will that be?” Lenny asked.
“We’re working on it,” Luke told them. “Moving on.”
“So we’re homing in on Riley Skinner as our primary suspect?” Augie asked.
“Yes,” Natalie said. “But we want to dot all our i’s and cross all our t’s so we can’t be accused of not being a hundred percent thorough. If Riley is guilty, then we need to present a solid case to the DA for successful prosecution. Which is why we’re in the process of interviewing all of Daisy’s friends, associates, colleagues, and employers, as well as any electricians, plumbers, or delivery men who might’ve been to the house recently … plus any and all registered sexual offenders in the neighborhood.”
“What happened to Riley’s phone?” Mike asked.
“We haven’t located the Samsung yet,” Natalie told him, “but Augie’s working on a court order for the service provider.”
“The sooner the better,” Luke told Augie, who jotted it down in his dog-eared notepad. “What about the hotline?”
Natalie nodded at Detective Anderson. “Mike’s in charge of the hotline.”
“It’s been ringing day and night,” Mike told the team. “We’ve been deluged with information, mostly speculation. A lot of sludge slows down the entire investigation, in my estimation. All that manpower on the phone lines could be put to better use.”
“So nothing to report?” Luke asked.
“Nothing so far, Lieutenant.”
“I have a question.” Detective Jacob Smith was the kind of guy who’d peaked in high school and was paunching out, but he viewed himself as a cool dude. He had a reputation for executing an impressive number of drug busts and recruiting informants. “Why was Daisy Buckner buying books about a breakup when she’s married and three months’ pregnant?”
“We’re still trying to determine that,” Natalie answered.
“Exactly,” Lenny said with exasperation. “Brandon could really clear things up right about now. When exactly is he coming in for an interview?”
“Unknown at this time,” she said.
“He’s doing what any of us would’ve done,” Augie said, coming to Brandon’s defense. “He’s lawyering up. What the hell would you do in that position, Lenny?”
“Okay, since you asked, the way Brandon went gunning for that kid is highly suspicious to me,” Lenny said. “Right away, he blames the punk.”
“What are you implying?” Augie said heatedly. “People do stupid things when they’re in shock.”
“We never found any of Riley’s prints inside the house. Not even a partial,” Lenny went on. “Whoever did this wiped the skillet clean, the stove dials, the doorknobs, all points of entry. Would a teenage boy who’d just killed his teacher in a frenzy clean up after himself? He’d have to be extremely calm and levelheaded. Is Riley Skinner levelheaded? I don’t think so. Impulsive, reckless, disorganized.”
Augie shrugged. “They pick up a lot from Criminal Minds nowadays.”
“No prints,” Lenny went on. “Which means he’s either extremely self-aware, or else he brought latex gloves to the scene—which implies premeditation, which this was clearly not. Unless it was staged to look that way.”
“You think it was staged?” Augie asked.
Lenny shrugged. “There’s elements to the crime scene only a cop, or somebody like that, would have knowledge of.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself,” Natalie admitted, and the room fell completely still. All eyes were on her. “It doesn’t add up. Daisy was in the middle of cooking dinner. Why would she turn off the stove burners? And if she didn’t turn them off, why would the killer do it? Wouldn’t the perpetrator be more focused on covering his tracks and fleeing the scene? A teenager, especially.”
“What else you got?” Augie said. “Because stove burners isn’t enough. You’re forgetting all the evidence we have against Riley Skinner—blood on the hoodie, the sighting of his Camaro in the vicinity, the altercation with the victim, drugs. Solid stuff.”
“Right, but type A-positive blood is one of the most common,” Natalie countered. “We don’t have a DNA match yet. The neighbor saw a car fitting the description of Riley’s Camaro around six thirty P.M. That’s outside the time of death estimate. I know it’s a long shot, but what if he dropped by to talk to Daisy about his problem after she was dead? The front door was unlocked. What if he touched the body, just like Brandon did, and got blood on the sleeve of his hoodie? After all, she was the most sympathetic adult in his life. The only one who truly believed in his potential. I listened to his rap song, and the lyrics about Daisy sounded more sorrowful than angry. As if he blamed himself for his failings, not her. And we still don’t know yet if Daisy was having an affair.”
Luke nodded. “These are great points, but maybe she was having an affair with Riley. Has anybody thought of that? What if we’re underestimating the intelligence of this kid? Maybe he did have a level enough head to wipe off his fingerprints. After all, teenagers can be quite sophisticated nowadays.”
“Okay, but he wasn’t in love with Daisy,” Natalie argued. “All signs point to him being in love with India Cochran to the point of stalking her.”
“So you’re suggesting he went over to Daisy’s house to talk to her around six thirty,” Luke said, “and found her dead? Then touched the body, and fled the scene?”
“Her front door was unlocked. He went inside. Found the body in the kitchen. Discovered she was dead. Fled the scene, stopping long enough to wipe his prints off the doorknob with his hoodie sleeve, and therefore cross-transferring traces of blood onto the doorknob, but no prints. He didn’t report the crime, because he thought the police would suspect him.”
“We do suspect him,” Augie admitted.
“Okay, what if Daisy was having an affair—not with Riley, that’s far-fetched, but with another adult,” Lenny said, picking up the thread. “Taking things a bit further, what if Brandon knew that his wife was having an affair? We’re talking about a crime of passion, right? Maybe Brandon found out about the affair and killed her, and then he tried to pin it on Riley? Maybe that’s why he went gunning for the kid. To divert attention away from himself. Law enforcement teaches us we don’t really know anyone. Are we all convinced that Brandon didn’t pop that kid at least once? Riley’s in a coma. Who would benefit from that? I’m not saying I believe it or think it’s true. But we need to broaden our search to include the victim’s spouse and potential lover. I don’t want to believe it—no way—but I can’t help it. The idea is stuck in my head like fruitcake. Tastes horrible, but I can’t stop picking at it.”
Once again Augie leapt to Brandon’s defense. “You know, I’ve been sitting here this whole time listening to your crap … why wouldn’t Brandon go gunning for the kid who called his wife a cunt? That’d be reason enough for me. Also, we have two eyewitnesses who say Brandon didn’t lay a hand on the kid.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Fuck you and your fruitcake,” Augie said. “Go fling your poo elsewhere.”
“I’m speculating, like any responsible detective would,” Lenny argued.
“Are you calling me irresponsible?”
Others leapt to Brandon’s defense. The argument escalated—overheated faces, overlapping conversations. Tension crackled off the walls.
“Okay, gentlemen. Settle down. That’s enough,” Luke commanded, and the room fell silent. The detectives shifted in their seats, their anger slowly dissipating. Luke glanced at Natalie. “Why don’t you conclude the meeting for us.”
She smiled at him and, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, said, “We’ve just started our investigation. However, the blood type evidence points to one suspect at this time. Until we hear from the lab regarding the DNA results, Riley Skinner’s our primary suspect—for the time being. In the meantime, we’ll be following all other leads.”
“Thank you, Natalie.” Luke looked around the table. “Any other questions?”
Cups were drained. Notebooks were put away.
“Good. Here are your assignments.” He passed around the assignment sheets. “There’ll be plenty of time to speculate about the bigger picture. Just remember, we have our work cut out for us in the coming weeks and months. It’s time to focus on the minutiae—eyewitness reports, suspect interviews, hotline tips, trace evidence. Leave no stone unturned. I want facts, people. Give me facts that I can hold in my hand.”