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Thirty

Madison and Terry went back to their desks to review the phone records and the paperwork side of the case. She made her way down the evidence list Cynthia had emailed and spotted something that struck her.

She reached over and slapped a printout on Terry’s desk as he hung up his phone. “Check out page two.”

“Okay,” he said slowly and picked up the report. “A button?”

“Not just any button. Don’t you recognize it?”

“Ah, no.”

“When we spoke to Marie Rauch, she was wearing a sweater, and it was missing a button. The other buttons look just like this one.”

Terry leaned back in his swivel chair, and it creaked as it always did, with little provocation. “Not that big a deal, is it? She does clean their house.”

“Look where it was found.”

He consulted the report. “Next to the pool. Still—”

“Terry, it had blood on it,” she spat.

He must have been preoccupied with something else to miss what was right in front of him.

“This is a lead. Rauch told us she didn’t clean near the pool on Saturday.”

“The button could have come off at any time. It just needed to be on the floor at the time of the murders to get blood spray.”

“But she has access to the house. She told us she was close to Lorene, but the husband didn’t believe so.”

“Steven seems to be in the dark about a lot of things,” Terry countered.

Madison rocked her head side to side. “Okay, I have to agree on that, but I still think that a button would have been seen and picked up before the murders, even if it was by Steven or Lorene Malone.”

“So, you’re suggesting that Rauch might have been there? She might be our killer? There could have been a struggle and the button came off then?”

“Why not?” she challenged her partner.

“What about motive and means? Doe and Malone weren’t killed by a button.”

“You’re such a brat.”

He patted his chest. “I don’t even have to work hard at it, either.”

“A natural gift,” she said drily and moved next to him and pointed to his monitor. “Does she have any registered guns?”

Terry groaned but proceeded to check the gun registry. “Nope,” he said once the search results filled the screen.

“What about her husband?”

More key strokes, then, “Nope.”

Madison crossed her arms. “Huh.” She paced. “So, where did she get the gun?”

“Let the gun go for now. Where there’s a will there’s a way, but what could have been Rauch’s motive?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted.

“Well, until we’ve got that, I say we scratch her off the suspect list.”

“In pencil.”

He was shaking his head.

“No way is she off altogether.”

“However this shakes out, you seem to be forgetting the male, size-eleven shoeprint found near the pool,” Terry said.

“Not forgetting, just disregarding it for now. Besides it could have been left at any time.” She recalled that Cynthia had not said anymore about another shoeprint being recovered that matched, and it wasn’t on the list. “Or…” She widened her eyes. “Maybe we’re looking at this wrong, and two people took out Lorene Malone and John Doe.”

“Okay, fair enough. In the fashion of continuing to spew out hypotheticals…Rauch’s partner in crime could have been the one with the gun.” He smirked, no doubt at his playful choice of words: partner in crime. She guessed he didn’t buy for a second there were two killers.

“Yep, you’re definitely a brat.” She loved how he’d flipped—when convenient to himself—and finally gave credence to the possibility that Rauch was involved in the murders.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Hey, guys.” Cynthia was coming toward them—looking like the walking dead—with a file in her hand.

“Not enough coffee in the world?” Madison asked.

“Not even close.” She held the folder out to Madison.

“You could have just called,” Madison said. “We would have met you in the lab.”

“I need to keep moving, or I’ll fall asleep. I tell you how much I’m looking forward to the honeymoon?”

In reality, Cynthia had hardly said anything about it. All Madison knew was that they were planning to go to Cancun for a week. Now, she wasn’t sure if Cynthia was being sarcastic, but why wouldn’t she be looking forward to time away, sipping a fruity drink, lounging next to the ocean, and soaking up the sun?

“It can’t come soon enough.” Pointing to the folder she’d given Madison, Cynthia added, “I found something in Malone’s financials. The business pays out fifty thousand a month, but I haven’t been able to track to where.”

“We could call and speak with Emily. She might know or be able to find out,” Madison suggested. “It could allow us to put off questioning the Malones and even make it unnecessary.”

“If we can avoid ’em, let’s,” Terry said.

“Although…” Madison glanced at her partner. “Rowe told us there was something he and Steven didn’t see eye to eye on. It could be tied to these transfers. Either way, it’s an awful lot of money.”

“But it could be for anything,” Terry said.

Madison faced Cynthia. “I hate to agree with him, but keep on it and see what you can find out.”

“I plan to,” Cynthia said somewhat bitterly. Hopefully, Madison could cheer her friend up tonight at the dress fitting and dinner afterward.

“Any update on the items collected from Mr. Malone’s office?” Madison wasn’t sure she should ask, but she couldn’t help herself. She was greedy for information at this point.

“Still working on it, Madison,” Cynthia said coolly.

Ouch. Cynthia rarely called her by her full first name. Usually, it was Maddy. She felt like she was in trouble. “Are you mad at me for some reason?” Madison hated to ask this in front of Terry.

“No, I’m just tired and cranky. The wedding’s only a few days away and—ah!” Cynthia waved her hands. “It just feels like everything’s in the air. I don’t want to leave with this case just hanging out there.”

That caused Madison to smile. She loved Cynthia’s devotion to the job. She was about as possessive about cases as Madison. “Terry and I are doing what we can. With any luck, the case will be solved before you go, but even if it isn’t, you have good people working for you.” She was referring to Mark, Sam, and Jennifer who reported to her in the lab.

“I know.” Cynthia bobbed her head. “I still would like it all wrapped up. Good news is I think I have something that might help.” Her face cracked into a smile. It was like watching a gargoyle transform into a teddy bear. “We found John Doe’s ID. Well, Mark did, specifically. Obviously, Sam’s busy with the ballistics of the case, including running comparisons between the slugs pulled from the victims and Malone’s Smith & Wesson.”

“I don’t care who found it,” Madison blurted out. “Who he is?” How could Cynthia not have led with this information? Talk about burying the lead!

“It’s all in the file. Happy reading.” She laughed and spun on her heels.

Madison wasted no time digging into the file. The name was next to a remark that there was no next of kin and highlighted in yellow.

“Who is he?” Terry asked.

“Saul Lynch,” she said slowly, “and I know that name.”

Terry buddied up to her shoulder and peered into the file.

“One of the numbers on Lorene’s phone report tied back to a Saul Lynch,” she said.

Terry’s finger went to the page. “He’s the owner of Your Best Friend.”

“That was the company who invoiced Lorene. The one email that was deleted,” Madison pieced together.

“Uh-huh.”

Madison read a comment Mark had left regarding the business that told her the only way he could find Your Best Friend was by looking it up through the tax number noted on the invoice.

They have zero online presence.

Madison found that strange. After all, being active on social media and having a website were key for most businesses’ survival.

She flipped the page to a second sheet, and there was Saul Lynch’s DMV photo staring back at them in color. She froze on the face that she’d only encountered in flesh and blood as a bloated corpse and pinched her eyes closed briefly.

“Your Best Friend, what do they do?” she mumbled as she searched the file, flipping through more pages. “Ah, here it is. It’s a private investigation firm in Colton.”

“Colton? That’s about forty-five minutes’ to an hour’s drive from here,” Terry squeezed in.

“It’s also where Lorene Malone grew up, as did Marie Rauch,” she said, remembering that Rauch had told them that.

“But you said Your Best Friend is a PI firm? Lorene was poking her nose in where it didn’t belong?” Terry suggested. “It backfired?”

“Or Lynch was, and Lorene was an innocent victim?” She hurried to her chair and grabbed her coat. She pointed at Terry. “The file says Lynch has a Mercedes E300. Call the sarge, see if he’ll approve a BOLO.”

A be-on-the-lookout bulletin.

“The car could be in Lynch’s driveway,” he said.

“Possibly, but if it’s not, we’re another forty-five minutes to hour behind the game.”

“On it.” Terry put his cell phone to an ear, and she listened as he pleaded their case on the way to the lot for a department car.

He was still talking five minutes later and didn’t hang up until the vehicle had time to warm up and she was pulling away from the station.

She glanced over at him. “So?”

“He’ll get it done immediately.”

She should have just rejoiced, but she couldn’t help but think snidely that of course Winston had approved the BOLO quickly. It meant they would start looking somewhere other than the Malone family.

“Probably not a good time to bring it up,” Terry started, “but I’m starving.”

His complaint had her stomach growling. “We can do a drive-thru.”

“Suppose it’s better than nothing,” he grumbled.

“You could have grabbed something from the vending machine before we left.”

“I know that you consider chocolate a meal, but I don’t.”

“I’ve told you before—”

He held up a hand and smiled. “Yes, yes, chocolate comes from a bean, and it’s technically a vegetable. That means it’s good for you.”

She’d brush her hands together if they weren’t on the wheel. “My work here is done,” she teased.

“Um, I just thought of something.” Any joviality was gone from his voice. “If Lynch is a PI, wouldn’t his prints be on file?”

And there was the rain for her parade, just when it seemed the clouds had cleared.