Laying a Foundation: Bonus volume: Includes series prequel, The Groundbreaking (The Love Under Construction Series) (69 page)

“Damn it, Nikki, okay. But don’t do anything like this again without talking to me first, hear me?”

“Fine!” she snapped, smacking her butter knife down on the counter. “Now could you at least be useful and open that jar of peanut butter for me since you can’t seem to get my jar opener out of the slammer?”

“Steve’s mad at me about it, but what do you think?” Nikki asked Tony when he called that night.

“Nothing’s happened at any of the jobsites?”

“Nope. Nothing. It’s been completely quiet. And I wouldn’t be working with anybody; I’d be by myself, so I wouldn’t be endangering anybody else. I want to help Marla, but I also need to be busy, you know?”

“I know exactly.” Sitting in a jail cell was proving to be difficult for Tony too. He was used to going and doing, being outside, and the only outdoor spot the jail had was a small courtyard that was completely enclosed. It was driving him crazy being confined that way. “If that will help her and help you, I think you should do it. I’ll talk to Steve, get him to back off a little. He’s just trying to keep you safe. And he was right about one thing – you should’ve talked to him first, or to me. But it’s okay, sweetie.”

“Thanks, babe. I just want to survive this with my mental faculties intact, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Me too.”

“So what’ve we got?” Detective Fox asked the coroner. Bryson stood next to him, arms folded.

“Well, we have a victim who was killed with an execution-type shot. It went in the base of her skull, and traveled up and forward until it came out the front of her head and blew most of the front of the skull out from the supraorbital foramen up past the frontal, bordered by the coronal suture on both sides – basically, the whole upper portion of the front of the skull. The wound is consistent with a forty-five slug, but the slug’s not present, so I’ve got nothing for a ballistics workup. She also had DNA evidence on her – a pubic hair that wasn’t hers. No semen, though, but between that and some very mild but fresh vaginal abrasions, it looks like she had sex very shortly before she was killed. There were tiny glass fragments in her hair consistent with auto safety glass.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“And the DNA?” Fox asked.

“No match in any of the databases. So it’s somebody who’s never been in trouble.”

“What about Walters’ DNA?”

“We got that when he came in for booking, but it doesn’t match his,” the coroner said.

“Well, all that means is maybe he was jealous she was having sex with someone else,” Fox said as they left the coroner’s office and walked down the hall.

“You didn’t know her. I think that would be unlikely that anyone would care about that.” Then Bryson asked, “What did we get from forensics?”

“The bloody print on the trash can in Walters’ bathroom? Not his and not in the system.” Fox read the report as they walked. “And according to this report, all of the blood was from the vic – none of it belonged to anyone else.”

“And we still don’t have a real crime scene,” Bryson pointed out. “Auto glass. Could be any car in the area.”

“If we don’t come up with something better than this,” Fox told him, “we’re going to lose an already shaky case. At least we’ve got him in custody – he can’t run.”

“He wouldn’t run anyway,” Bryson said. “He’s not that kind of guy.”

“They’re
all
that kind of guy.” Fox shook his head. “You really believe he didn’t do this, don’t you?”

“I’ve
never
believed he did this.”

“Well, shows how gullible you are.”

Nikki was restless. Tony had been gone two weeks. She was trying to keep the office running, and she was getting really tired and stressed. She put her head in her hands and sighed. What next? Her desk was a mess. There were so many things to do that she didn’t know where to start, and she decided she probably needed to come in on Saturday afternoon after she left The Passionate Pansy and try to catch up on some stuff; Tony’s office key was at home, so she could get in easily, and whoever was working her detail would probably welcome the chance to sit in Tony’s office and watch TV rather than sit in the car. She’d work on Sunday too if she had to.

She stood and stretched. The coffee out front smelled fresh, but she didn’t drink coffee; maybe she should start. Sleeping was impossible without Tony beside her, and she was tired all the time. She’d moved into his office temporarily, and she walked to the big window and looked out.

Looking at the yard always helped her keep perspective. From the big window she could see the building where central supply was, and the larger office building with accounting, human resources, and all the operational offices. The mechanics hangar was back there, too, but what she really loved was watching everyone moving around. There were people everywhere, walking back and forth with paperwork, plans, or envelopes of all kinds, guys carrying tools, heavy equipment moving around, and trucks all over the place.

Directly under the window were a half-dozen pickup trucks, but Clayton’s wasn’t there – it was the only Walters truck that was red, and thinking about how much he liked that made her smile. He was such a good kid, so smart and handsome, and so quiet that any funny thing he said was made that much funnier just because he’d been the one who said it. She stood looking at the trucks and almost cried; her big blue truck was parked there too. If Tony was there, he’d be driving it. But he wasn’t.

Then something caught her eye – something on the roof of the white truck right under the window. She squinted and looked at it. What was that? She called out to Cheryl, “Hey, Cheryl, whose truck is twenty-three?”

“That’s Cal’s truck,” Cheryl called back.

“Where is he?”

“He and Clayton went to a jobsite – don’t remember which one, hospital maybe?”

“Can you come here for a minute?”

“What’s up, boss lady?” Cheryl appeared at Nikki’s elbow.

“Look at the roof of that truck. What is that?”

Cheryl squinted at it. “I can’t tell.”

Tony kept binoculars in his desk to watch the yard with, so Nikki pulled them out and looked at the roof of the truck. It was a piece of duct tape – white duct tape – and it had a strange-looking, protrusion-like lump in the middle of it. The protrusion was round and had rough, upward-pointed edges that were visible even under the duct tape. “You look.” She handed the binoculars to Cheryl. “What is that?”

Cheryl looked through the glasses. “I can’t tell. It’s weird.”

“Can you find out if that truck has had glass breakage recently?” Something was bumping around in Nikki’s mind, and she wracked her brain to try to remember all the things Steve had told her about the evidence in Dottie’s murder.

Cheryl went back to her desk. In a few seconds she came back. “Yeah, we’ve had twelve in the last month. That one had a windshield replaced.”

“When?”

“The day after Thanksgiving. What are you thinking?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a bullet hole underneath that duct tape. I think I just found the crime scene.” She grabbed her phone and dialed Clayton.

“Hi! What’s up?”

“Clayton, I’m going to ask you some questions. Please, please just answer them yes or no, or something like it. Try to be casual, okay?” Nikki instructed as clearly and emphatically as she could.

“Okay.”

“Is Cal still with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And you’re at a jobsite?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Is it the Colufab site?”

“No.”

“Is it the hospital site?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what, about twenty-five minutes from the office?”

“Something like that.”

“So here’s what I need. Keep Cal with you. Don’t let him out of your sight. Don’t let him come back here with anybody else. Keep him busy. Then I’ll call you in a little while and tell you when to bring him back. When you do, make sure he has his seatbelt on so it’ll take more effort for him to get out of the truck. When you get here, there will be lots of cops here, but it’s okay. Can you do all of that for me, honey?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I wish I could explain to you what’s going on, but I can’t if he’s with you. I’ll call you in a little while. Love you.”

“Uh-huh – same here,” he replied discreetly.

Nikki hit END, then dialed Bryson. It only took one ring for him to answer. “Hawkins.”

“Detective Hawkins? This is Nikki Wilkes, Tony Walters’ fiancée?”

“Hey, Ms. Wilkes, what can I do for you?” The detective sounded sort of friendly. “And please, call me Bryson.” Nikki was shocked, but she didn’t have time to ponder Bryson’s personality.

“Um, Detec . . . Bryson, I think I found your crime scene.”

“Wha . . . really? Where?”

“We’ve got a company truck over here that has what looks like a bullet hole in the roof. I mean, I haven’t pulled the tape off because I didn’t want to ruin any evidence, but that’s certainly what it looks like from the window with Tony’s binoculars.”

“Where is the person who drives the truck? Because this could be dangerous if that individual knows you’ve figured this out,” Bryson warned.

Nikki went over the instructions she’d given Clayton. “Excellent.” Bryson was impressed. She was really, really sharp. “Listen, I’ll be over with a wrecker and a couple of uniforms in about fifteen. We’ll take care of everything – don’t touch anything.”

“No problem. We’re not going anywhere near that truck until you get here. And thanks, Bryson.”

“No, thank you, Nikki. I appreciate you calling me. See you in a few.”

Now it was just a matter of waiting. Nikki thought about what this could mean. She was getting excited just thinking about the possibilities. After a few minutes, she quieted her mind, then realized she should probably call Steve, and he assured her he’d be there as fast as he could get there.

True to his word, Bryson and a cruiser with two uniformed officers showed up in less than ten minutes. She had Cheryl give him the keys to the truck, and the three of them went out to look at it. Bryson pulled the tape off the roof and, sure enough, there was a bullet hole through the metal. Inside the headliner he found the entry, a tiny slit in the cloth. Using a small metal rod, he stuck the rod through the slit and it went through the hole in the roof at an angle toward the truck’s bed. Before he could ask about the windshield, Nikki told him they’d checked and the truck’s windshield had been replaced the day after Thanksgiving. The department’s wrecker showed up, and Bryson helped them load the truck.

Once it was gone, he turned to Nikki. “Now it’s time to call and have your son bring him here.”

Nikki made the call, and in less than a half hour, Clayton’s red truck pulled into the parking lot. They were all watching through Tony’s big window, and she noticed the look on Cal’s face as they drove up and he realized his truck was gone. The uniformed officers met them at Clayton’s truck, talked to Cal for a few minutes, and then handcuffed him and put him in the car.

Clayton took the steps two at a time and came through the door double-time. “What the hell is going on now?” Clayton asked, looking from Nikki to Bryson and back to Nikki.

When Nikki explained, Clayton dropped down onto Tony’s sofa and sighed. “So you think my mo … Dottie was with Cal?” he asked, dazed.