The lab had been able to come up with some of the answers we were looking for, but not all. The DNA on the bones found in the fire drum would take a few more days, but the tire tracks collected at Meredith’s place last night were confirmed as TreadWright 245/75 R16 tires. Apparently a common size for cargo vans. If we could find the van and match the tires it would be a major breakthrough.
Pat at the CBI lab had also confirmed that some of the blood on the hilt of the knife was human and she was running DNA on that as well. That kind of evidence would come in handy once we have a suspect we can compare it to.
Gomez and his team planned to try their luck tracking down Tom Ward to see if he’d be willing to part with some more information before they look into McCarty. We’d had to let Tom go this morning when the DA concluded there wasn’t enough concrete evidence at this point to make any charges stick. It had been a bit of a letdown, knowing he likely holds the key to this case, but there wasn’t anything we could do other than find something to tie him to the case. Gomez also put a call in to the FBI office in Farmington to arrange a visit to the crematorium to check out their vans. Blackfoot and I plan to have a talk with Dunwoody senior this morning to see what, if anything, he might know. His first wife’s name, Marilee Ward, had not been on the list of Ward’s family members since she died almost two decades ago, but maybe the pastor could provide some information around the drugs found in his son’s system. Maybe we should also ask him where he was Sunday night.
The case is starting to come together, even though we may not have all the pieces yet.
After the meeting at the station, I convinced Meredith to grab a bite to eat in town before stopping in to the clinic. Beau was still very groggy, but his tail thumped against the floor when he recognized Meredith. Dave assured her he was expecting to see significant improvement by morning.
“Did you call the clinic yet?” I ask her when she hands me a coffee.
“Not yet. I’ll do it now.”
I feel tugging on my pant leg to find Belle trying to get some attention. Bending down I scoop up the kitten, who spent most of the night curled up between us in bed. We’d taken my truck to dinner last night and after seeing Beau at the clinic, I automatically drove here. Not that I would’ve left her by herself, not after what happened this weekend. There were no objections from Meredith, who appeared to take my presence in her space in stride.
We did little more than feed the cat and roll into bed, where Meredith fit herself comfortably in my arms and promptly fell asleep. After a series of short and broken up nights, I followed shortly and slept like the dead until her alarm woke me earlier.
“…what’s wrong?” I hear her ask as she turns to me, worry on her face as she holds the phone to her ear.
I absently stroke Belle while I wait until she hangs up. I’m not getting much information from Meredith’s monosyllabic responses.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes shine when she turns them on me.
“It’s Beau. Dave says he’s had a rough night and this morning didn’t even look up when he looked in on him. Says he expected him to be much better than he is, that he looks lethargic and listless.”
The moment the first tear runs down her cheek I’m up. With the kitten still in one hand, I fold my other arm around Meredith as she presses her face into my chest.
“He’ll be okay, Merry,” I soothe. “Maybe he just needs a day to get his bearings. Why don’t we stop off at the clinic before we head into work? You can check in on him yourself?”
The clinic is on the south side of town, closer to my place and a bit out of the way, but the extra twenty or so minutes are worth Meredith’s peace of mind.
“Okay,” she mumbles into my shirt before lifting away. “Maybe we can pick up some breakfast on the way.” She was clearly able to get her emotions under control because her eyes are dry. “I just need to grab my glasses. I left them upstairs.”
Belle puts her nails in my hand when I try to put her down so I can put my boots on. She’s clearly not on board being left alone. When I attempt to untangle myself from her claws, she meows in protest, those big eyes blinking up at me. Out of the blue, a thought comes to me and I pull out my phone to dial Dave’s number.
“Good call.”
Dave grins at me when Beau’s tail starts thumping the floor loudly and he lifts his snout to sniff at the kitten.
It occurred to me that if Belle was missing her dog, he might be missing her as well.
Meredith grabs my hand and squeezes as the cat curls up between Beau’s legs and he rewards her with a sloppy tongue-bath.
“Don’t see that often,” Dave comments.
“It’s the weirdest thing,” Meredith tells him. “When we found her, he picked her up in his mouth and carried her straight to his bed inside the house.”
“You’ll see this kind of bond sometimes in animals from the same nest, or who have grown up together. They grieve when they’re separated. But it’s unusual to see an instant connection like this.”
“So you’re okay with her staying with Beau?” I want to make sure.
“Absolutely. If with her here he starts improving, in another couple of days he’ll be ready to come home.”
Meredith is smiling when we get into my truck.
“What?”
She leans over the center console and slaps her hands on my cheeks.
“That was very clever of you.”
Then she plants a sweet kiss on me and when she sits back and I start the car, I’m grinning.
“Mostly self-serving,” I confess, pulling away from the curb. “Belle is cute and all, but I’d prefer to see your face first when I open my eyes in the morning.”
I glance over and catch her smile.
Meredith
The morning passes slowly, but a little after eleven we’re called to a home—just a few blocks from the office—where a family member discovered the deceased body of their eighty-two-year-old mother lying at the bottom of the basement stairs. According to the eldest daughter, her mother hasn’t been to the basement in ages. Not since the older woman’s grandson moved in four years ago to look after her. He was the twenty-six-year-old son to her middle daughter and, according to his aunt, had a few run-ins with his grandmother about his recent drinking. Police were able to get hold of him at his place of work and he swears she was fine this morning, but the body was already cold to the touch.
It had been enough of a red flag for the responding officer to send a cruiser to the young man’s place of work and call us in.
The same officer, Collier, who’d been manning the lobby was here again today, and followed the van—carrying Paul and myself—to the location. Police had made room in front of the residence for us to park as close as possible, and I helped Paul pull the gurney and my bag from the back of the van.
In older neighborhoods like this one everyone seems to know everyone, so it doesn’t surprise me a lot of folks have flocked out of their houses to see what’s going on. Uniformed officers are making sure nobody gets too close, but from the few glances I cast in the small crowd, I can already tell this woman was loved by her neighbors. Having a coroner’s van pull up outside a friend’s door is a harsh way to discover they’re dead.