“They weren’t hers—I’m certain of it.” Torie sent a pleading glance Joe’s way.
“The bottle could have been planted,” Joe put in. “Was it tested for fingerprints?”
Craig frowned and his gaze ran down the page before he shook his head. “Nothing about that. It seemed clear-cut that she’d either been swamped by a rogue wave and carried out to sea or she killed herself.”
“Is it too late to check for prints?” Joe asked.
“Maybe not. I can check on it. If her prints are on the bottle, it will be more likely accepted that she was taking the drug.”
“What about her doctor? Did you check to see who might have prescribed them?”
Craig shook his head. “There was no prescribing information so we assumed she’d bought them illegally.”
“She’d never do that.” Torie had to keep reminding herself no one knew Lisbeth like she did. The detectives were making assumptions about the case based on very little evidence.
Her head began to pulse with pain. “Anything else?”
Craig scanned through the pages again, then handed them to her. “I don’t see anything, but you can take a look.”
At least it wasn’t the pictures. Torie read through the pages, and a paragraph jumped out at her. “She was wearing jeans and hiking boots. She loved hiking. Why would she have been walking on the beach in boots? Especially if the waves were coming over her feet. People don’t do that.”
Joe frowned. “She has a point, Craig. You have to admit that’s strange. She was fully dressed when I pulled her out of the surf.”
“If she planned to drown herself, maybe she thought the boots would help weigh her down,” Craig said. “When someone is in that much despair, they don’t always do logical things.”
It was clear that Craig thought he had all the answers, so she turned to Joe again with an unspoken plea. His compassionate gaze held her captive for a long moment before he spoke.
“What do you think could explain the evidence?” he asked.
Her thoughts swirled so wildly she had trouble pinning them down. Walking along the water’s edge with boots. It didn’t make sense. “Could I see the picture of the footprints again?”
Craig plucked a picture off the top of the pile. “Yeah, here you go.”
She took the glossy photo and stared at it. Boot prints. She squinted at it. “They look deep. You realize Lisbeth barely weighed a hundred pounds and was only five one?”
Joe reached out his hand. “Let me see that.” When she passed the photo over to him, he studied it, then nodded. “She’s right, Craig. Those prints are deeper than a tiny woman like Lisbeth would make.”
Craig took the print and stared at it. “I’ll mention it to the detective, but I think the body has already been released. Unless there’s more concrete evidence, I don’t think they’ll reopen the investigation. The sand could have been extra soft that day.”
“Listen to yourself making excuses for headquarters,” Joe said. “You’ve lived here too long to actually believe that. And look at the size of the prints. I’d say that’s a man’s size ten at least.” He turned his attention to Torie. “What size shoe did Lisbeth wear?”
“It was a joke between us that we both had such trouble finding shoes. I wear a twelve, and she wore a four so we both shopped in specialty stores.”
“There’s no way that’s a size four boot,” Joe said. “See what you can do, Craig.”
Craig tucked the papers and picture away. “Don’t hold your breath, but I’ll give it a shot.”
So much for help. Torie would have to investigate this herself. Her gaze went to Joe, who looked impossibly handsome in his jeans and T-shirt. At least he believed her.
Chapter 11
Danger, danger.
Joe watched Torie’s dark hair glimmer with red highlights cast from the pendant lights over the breakfast bar. There hadn’t been a woman in his kitchen since Julie had died, and yet somehow he liked watching Torie’s tall, elegant figure move around the space, scooping up utensils and loading the dishwasher as if she belonged.
Why would he feel that way about someone he’d just met five days ago? The fact was he’d been intrigued with her from the moment he met her. He wanted to punch through that reserve and see something no one else had noticed. “I can clean up.”
“I’m weird. I like cleaning the kitchen, probably because every item has its place and it’s easy to make a clean sweep of everything.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way. Cleaning is a continuous chore. It never stays clean, especially with a grazing eight-year-old in the house.”
She turned from the sink, and he was struck by the deep brown of her eyes. In the past three years, he’d never even considered dating someone. Raising Hailey by himself took all his energy and focus. And he wasn’t sure how his daughter would receive having another woman around.
He gave a light shake of his head at the way his thoughts were headed. Torie had given no indication she found him attractive so he might as well be swinging for the bleachers in vain.
She rinsed the sink and laid the sponge aside. “All done.”
“How about some coffee and popcorn? I’ve got another hour before I need to pick up Hailey.” He could see the no forming on her face and rushed on. “I thought we might talk a little more about the case. Maybe even look at that notebook. Are there any other indications Lisbeth felt threatened?”
“Some of the pages had been cut out.”
“That sounds suspicious.” He took her answer for a yes and poured two cups of coffee before he got out a bag of cheesy popcorn. When she took the popcorn from him without objection, a dose of elation shot up his spine. “Cream in your coffee?”
“You have any heavy whipping cream? And honey?” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s a tall order, isn’t it? I sound like some kind of diva. Coffee the way I like it is my one vice.”
“You’re in luck.” He got the carton of whipping cream from the fridge and found the bottle of honey in the pantry. “Voilà, your perfect coffee.”
“Most people don’t have heavy whipping cream on hand.”
“My diva daughter likes hot chocolate with heavy whip.”
Torie set the bag of popcorn aside and stirred the cream into her coffee. “I knew I liked that kid.”
Joe ripped open the top of the popcorn bag and kernels went flying all over the kitchen floor. He was so far out of the practice of trying to impress a woman, he didn’t know what to do, and he stood staring at the mess with his mouth slightly open for a long moment.
Torie put down her coffee and knelt to scoop the popcorn together in her hands. “I’m not sure it’s Hailey who’s the problem in the kitchen.”
A laugh bubbled up his throat. “I’ve got ten thumbs tonight. Let me get a broom.”
“I’ve got it. Open the trash drawer.”
He pulled it out, and she dropped the debris into it, then washed her hands while he made more popcorn. With her coffee in hand she followed him into the living room, where he put the popcorn on the coffee table. They settled side by side on the plaid sofa.