“So this guy must have been covered in blood.”
“Yes. There were bloody footsteps that led to the back door and down the three back porch stairs, but they ended at the grass. Like I said at the crime scene, I’m guessing he was wearing some kind of protective gear.”
“This wasn’t a random attack.”
“Not in my professional opinion. No other signs of blood or disturbance anywhere else in the area. Though I did find traces of hair on her body, which I’ve sent off for DNA testing. I can’t imagine our killer would go to so much trouble to hide trace evidence and then drop hair, but you never know. I also found semen on her bedsheets that were less than twenty-four hours old. Again, testing for DNA.”
“The medical examiner’s final report said she had consensual sex within twenty-four hours of dying.”
“Fits.”
“When will you have the DNA?”
Her cheeks puffed and she blew out a breath. “Couple of weeks, and that’s putting a rush on the tests. Then we’ve got to run it through the databases and see if there’s a match.”
“Can you test the DNA against one particular individual?”
“The boyfriend or husband?”
“Both. And I’d also like it tested against a guy by the name of Philip Latimer. He was a cop in Nashville who worked with Deidre.”
“Where’d you come up with that name?”
“He was Leah Carson’s husband.” Though they might be legally married, he considered Latimer an ex-husband in every sense of the word when it came to Leah.
Georgia raised an index finger. “I remember that case. He nearly killed his wife. Stabbed her. Many were shocked because he was a decorated officer.”
Alex nodded. “Latimer stabbed Leah twenty-three times.”
“Like Deidre.”
“So it would appear.”
Absently, she tugged on a loose strand of hair. “I thought he was dead.”
“Supposedly, he died four years ago. And he might very well be dead. I could be wrong.”
That coaxed a smile. “I should get that on tape.”
He stared at her.
“Brother, you’re not wrong. You figure stuff the rest of us don’t.”
“DNA will move this theory to fact.”
“I’ll see what can be rushed.” She glanced at her case file. “I also found a footprint by the back door in the grass. He must have stopped to remove his protective suit and booties. Shifting weight to one leg left the imprint.”
“What kind of shoe?”
“A sports shoe. Judging by the tread, a cross trainer. Men’s size thirteen.”
“A big guy.” Like Philip. But also like Tyler and David.
Deke entered the room, his face darkened by a scowl.
“Georgia was just getting me up to speed on the evidence in Deidre’s case,” Alex said.
“Have you heard our brother’s crazy theory?” Georgia asked.
Deke sighed. “Which one?”
Georgia gave him the rundown.
Deke shook his head, but he didn’t laugh off the explanation. “Deidre’s connection to Philip would explain the missing money. Back from the dead, he no doubt needed money, and what better source than Deidre. Might also explain Deidre’s old business card, which we found near the John Doe.”
Alex held up a hand. “Let Georgia run her DNA, then we’ll get into how crazy this sounds. Leah has also signed a consent form so I can open Latimer’s grave.”
“That’s going to take time.”
“I know. But I filed the papers.”
“Fair enough.” He opened the manila folder in his hand.
“I just received Deidre’s cell and home phone information. It came in late last night, and instead of sending it over, I decided to just go through it.”
Alex struggled with a jab of annoyance. Big brother taking command again. It had been an argument they’d had before, but now wasn’t the time to revive it. “And what did you find?”
“Deidre’s burner phone received a dozen calls from three different numbers that lasted anywhere from three to five minutes. The calls started about six weeks ago. All from burners.”
“Three different people?”
“Maybe. Maybe it was one person who didn’t want to be traced.”
“Like a dead guy.”
“That would fit.”
The skin on the back of Alex’s neck tingled. DNA or no, he was right about Latimer. “What about her official cell phone? Any calls on that show up as unusual?”
“An interesting calling pattern there as well. Over the last months, she received two dozen calls from pay phones. All at random times. No patterns. None of the calls lasted more than a few seconds.”
“Someone was harassing her or keeping tabs on her?”
“One or the other. The calls stopped abruptly about four weeks ago.”
“What about Radcliff’s number? I caught him harassing Leah Carson today. Stands to reason he’d be harassing a soon-to-be ex-wife. Did his number show up on her records?”
“Several times, but all the calls were made during normal business hours. Any attorney could argue they were reasonable.”
“Radcliff’s smart enough not to leave an electronic trail. He’s got that reelection campaign this year, and he doesn’t want to screw it up with stalking charges.”
Deke closed his file, his scowl darkening. “Why the hell would Radcliff go after Leah?”
“Leah knew Deidre from the running group, and the two had a budding friendship. Radcliff thinks Leah knows more about Deidre’s personal life than she’s letting on.”
“Does she?”
“I think she’s told us what she knows about her.”
Georgia folded her arms over her chest. “I hear a but in there.”
Alex rose, shifting his stance. “No but. She’s open about Deidre. It’s her own past she guards closely.”
“Do you blame her?” Georgia challenged. “She was married to a monster. She’s likely carrying some guilt and shame.”
“Why?”
Georgia flicked a loose strand of hair from her eyes as if it were an annoying bug. “How long were they married?”
“Not very long.”
“My guess is that Latimer didn’t go postal on her all at once. I bet he slowly turned up the heat and she kept taking it. She’s ashamed she kept taking it. I know I would be.”
Deke nodded. “I saw the scars on her hands.”
Georgia drummed her fingers against her arms. “She was stabbed, and then she finds a friend stabbed. God, she must be freaking out at the idea that Latimer is still alive.”
“She was spooked.” Alex rarely second-guessed himself, but he again wondered if he should have dumped such explosive theories in her lap and simply left.
“My attacker was killed two years ago,” Georgia said. “I still have nightmares, and I sure don’t like to talk about it. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling.”
Deke seared his sister with his gaze. “You’re sharing all your worries with your therapist, right?”
Georgia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like her.”
Alex faced his sister. “I don’t like a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t do them. You still seeing her?”
A sigh leaked through clenched teeth. “Yes. I see her. I just don’t like it.”
Deke studied her a beat longer, clearly determining if he should believe her. “So, when are you going to share with us?”
She laughed. “Never.”
Alex twisted his gold cuff link. “Why not?”
“You two aren’t the warm and fuzzy types.”
“Would you tell Rachel?” Deke asked. Rachel had lived the nightmare with Georgia, nearly died with her, and, in the end, saved her.
Georgia shrugged. “She and I talk.”
Deke’s gaze softened. “I didn’t know that.”
“Exactly. By the way, I think she wants to marry you. She’s scared of giving up her independence, but if you ask again, I bet she says yes.”
Deke’s gaze sharpened. “How do you know?”
She shot him a look.
“Right. Thanks.”