Authors: Laura Griffin

Untraceable (11 page)

“I’m trying to protect myself. This way, I can track his moves from a safe distance using my cell phone.”

He shook his head again. “I told you before, you’re underestimating him, Alex. He’s not stupid. And if he’s not on to you now, he soon will be. And then you’ve got more to worry about than Melanie’s whereabouts.”

Alex sighed, annoyed by the paternal tone. And the fact that he was probably right.

The turnoff came into view, and she was glad for the distraction. She pulled up to the cast-iron gates, gave her name, and had a moment of panic as the guard flipped the pages on his clipboard. He checked her vehicle tags, then her driver’s license. Finally, he gave her a nod, and the gate slid open.

Alex followed the curving road through the sloping limestone hills. They had about a mile and a half to go, if she remembered correctly.

“You familiar with the story behind Delphi Center?” She was searching for more neutral ground.

“The Jones family,” he said. “Some oil heiress funded the place.”

Alex’s gaze flicked to the mesquite bushes and prickly pear cacti dotting the landscape. A group of buzzards circled in the distance, and she remembered what Mia had said about a body farm.

“She lost a kid, wasn’t it?”

“Her daughter,” Alex said, following the curve around a twisted oak tree with an enormous green canopy. “Vanessa Hayley Jones. Student at UT. She was spending the summer at her mom’s house in Houston. Got up one morning, went out for a run, and never came home. Two weeks later, her body was discovered in Buffalo Bayou.”

“Strangled, right?”

“And raped.” Alex’s gaze followed the buzzards. “The mother’s a widow. Loaded. She brings all kinds of hell down on HPD until they get an arrest. They collar this guy Wayne Korbin. Turns out, he’s a convicted sex offender.”

“I remember the trial,” Nathan said. “It was a media circus. They didn’t get the death penalty.”

“Life, no parole,” Alex said. “There were a couple holdouts on the jury. Anyway, about five years later, a technician at the state crime lab was running a decade-old rape kit. He got a cold hit.”

“Lemme guess. Korbin.”

“Six months later, there’s another hit. Korbin again. To date, they’ve linked six separate rape kits to this scumbag. If even one of those kits had been tested earlier, he could have been locked up before he killed Vanessa.”

Nathan didn’t comment. She supposed he’d left his outrage behind years ago. Or maybe it had morphed into that cool determination with which he approached his murder cases.

“Anyway, by the time they got to like the third case, Vanessa’s mom was over the edge,” Alex said. “She took the entire Hayley family oil fortune and gave it away. Ninety-two million dollars. That’s the endowment behind the Delphi Center. Most of it, anyway. They’ve processed an incredible number of rape kits since they opened. Part of their mission is to help clear the backlog.”

She pulled around a bend, and the complex came into view.

“Whoa,” Nathan said. “Looks like the Parthenon. On top of a golf course.”

Alex steered up the curved driveway, impressed yet again by the gleaming white structure atop a lush carpet of Bermuda grass. The manicured lawn looked all the more out of place because it was surrounded by the untamed flora of the Texas Hill Country.

Alex pulled into the visitors’ lot and found a space. They got out, and Nathan glanced up.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Beats the hell out of our crime lab. We’re rigged together with duct tape and chewing gum.”

Alex gazed up and couldn’t believe someone wanted her to work here. She couldn’t imagine it. She turned to Nathan. “You ready?”

“Lead the way.”

They ascended the wide marble steps. Nathan pulled open the glass door for her, and they were assaulted by a blast of cool air. He peeled off his shades.

“Fair warning, this place is frigid,” she told him, as they walked past the security guard and presented their IDs at the reception desk. The attendant checked his computer, made a call on his phone, and then handed them a pair of visitor badges. Alex had notified Mia on the way down here that Nathan was coming.

“Oh, and another thing? Mia’s pretty young,” she said, “so don’t be surprised when you see her.”

“How young?” Nathan asked, clipping his badge to the pocket of his blue Oxford shirt, which matched his eyes.

“I don’t know. Early thirties? Pretty young for all the degrees she’s got.”

She heard the distant ding of an elevator, and turned to see Mia striding across the lobby.

“You weren’t kidding,” Nathan murmured. As she approached them, Alex saw Nathan taking in the pony-tail, the freckles. If not for the lab coat with the Delphi logo, the woman could have passed for a grad student.

“Alex. Detective Devereaux.” Mia smiled. “Right this way, please.”

Alex had expected to head for the elevators, but instead Mia led them through a pair of exterior glass doors. They ended up on the lawn again, only this side of the complex faced a rocky gorge.

“It’s so nice to get a break from the rain,” Mia said cheerfully. “Thought we could talk outdoors.”

Alex’s bullshit meter clicked on, but she didn’t comment as Mia led them over a flagstone path to a picnic table beside a pecan tree. They sat down—Mia on one side, she and Nathan on the other.

Mia turned to Nathan. “So you’re a homicide detective? Is this your case?”

“It isn’t officially a case yet, so no,” he said.

“Well, I hope these results will be helpful to you. Whatever comes of this.”

What did that mean? Alex wasn’t sure, but she braced herself for bad news.

“Okay, let’s start at the top.” Mia took a spiral pad from the pocket of her coat. “The sample you brought me is Type A-positive blood. That’s tied with O-positive for the most common, found in thirty-three percent of the population. The subject is also a secretor.”

“What’s that?” Alex asked, before she could stop herself. She didn’t care, really. She just wanted to know if the blood was Melanie’s.

“They secrete antigens, proteins, and enzymes, indicating their blood type, into other bodily fluids,” Mia said. “Most people fall into this category. Only about twenty percent of the human race would be classified as nonsecretors.”

Mia flipped a page, and Alex shifted impatiently.

“Also,” Mia continued, “your subject is male.”

“Male?” Alex leaned closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Not Melanie.
Her shoulders sagged with relief, and she looked at Nathan. “Could it be Coghan’s? Maybe there was some kind of struggle?”

“Who’s Coghan?” Mia asked Nathan.

“The missing woman’s husband.”

“Craig Coghan,” Alex said. “Could the blood be his?”

“Not unless he’s dead,” Mia said.

Nathan and Alex stared at her.

“Your blood sample matches a profile recently entered into the missing-persons index. Some unidentified remains.”

“How recently?” Nathan asked.

“Yesterday morning.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asked.

“Absolutely. I ran both profiles myself.”

“You ran both.” Nathan frowned. “Who submitted the other sample?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say.”

Nathan glanced at Alex, then back at Mia. “Did this other sample come down from Austin? Maybe a floater pulled out of the lake?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose the details.”

Nathan scowled. “Isn’t that the point of this place? Cooperation among law enforcement agencies? Everyone helping one another?”

She smiled weakly. “I understand your frustration. But this is an unusual case. Please understand my position.”

Nathan sat back, looking seriously annoyed. He was thinking this DNA profile belonged to that murder victim he believed was Melanie’s boyfriend. That case was
his
, supposedly, yet he knew nothing about someone sending a sample to the Delphi Center for testing.

“There’s more,” Mia said. “I recovered some perspiration from the earbud. Same donor as the blood.”

“So the blood came from whoever was wearing the earphones.” Alex looked at Nathan. “Presumably the victim, not the attacker, right? Who would wear earphones to attack someone?”

Nathan didn’t comment.

“Also, we recovered a latent fingerprint from the earbud,” Mia continued. “A partial, actually. We ran it through AFIS, but no hits.”

“Maybe it’s mine,” Alex suggested.

“It’s not,” Mia said. “We have your prints on file. Anyway, a single partial print is a long shot, but I wanted to check for you. So that’s about it for the earbud. You can pick it up from our evidence clerk on your way out.”

Mia tucked the notepad back into her pocket. “Just one more thing. I took the liberty of sending your envelope to one of my colleagues. Were you aware there was a trace substance inside it? A fine white powder?”

“Coke?” Nathan asked.

“I don’t know,” Mia said. “I asked one of our chemical tracers to take a look at it when he gets a chance. I’ll let you know.”

“This substance was
inside
the envelope?” Alex asked.

“Yes.”

Nathan looked at Alex. “Maybe it’s baking soda,” he said sarcastically.

Yeah, right.

Mia checked her watch and stood up. “I wish I had more time today.” She turned to Alex. “Have you had a chance to think about our offer?”

Nathan stood up then, too, and Alex felt his gaze on her face as she floundered for a response. She’d convinced herself Troy’s words were just that—
words
.

Alex got to her feet. “Troy was a little vague. I wasn’t sure he was serious.”

“He was,” Mia said. “He speaks highly of you, and we’d be very interested to have you in for an interview with our Cyber Crimes Unit.” She pulled a card from the pocket of her lab coat. “My cell number’s on the back. Call me and I’ll tell you more about it.”

Alex avoided Nathan’s gaze as she accepted the card. “Thank you.”

“We’ve got some talented people here, Alex. I think you’d fit right in.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Nathan spent the first half of the return trip conducting a cryptic telephone conversation with Hodges. When the call ended, he gazed out the window, his expression conveniently shielded by sunglasses.

He was cutting her out of the loop again. Alex waited calmly, but by the time they reached the Austin city limits, her patience was gone.

“So what do you think?” she finally asked.

Nathan turned to look at her, but his eyes were hidden behind mirrored lenses. “Probably pays better than PI work. I think you should go for it.”

“I meant the
case
. What’d you think of Mia’s findings?”

He glanced away.

She gripped the steering wheel, trying to tamp down her frustration. After all they’d been through, he still didn’t consider her part of his inner circle.

Maybe she
should
take a job at the Delphi Center. At least it would give her some legitimacy with cops.

“Your friend’s back,” Nathan said.

She glanced over and saw that he was looking at the side mirror. Alex checked the rearview.

“Three cars behind us,” he said. “Changed lanes two minutes after you did.”

Nathan was right. The boxy black sedan looked familiar. And whoever was at the wheel was subtle enough that Alex hadn’t even noticed the tail this time.

“Pull into a gas station,” he said. “We can fuel up, then switch drivers. When he picks us up again, I’ll see if I can get a tag.”

“Uh, thanks, but no.”

He arched a brow skeptically. “You think you can handle him?”

Instead of answering, she took the next exit off the interstate. The sedan stayed with them, but managed to hang back about five car lengths.

“Don’t run the yellow,” he advised as she approached the first stoplight. “He’ll know he’s been made.”

Alex shot him a withering look. “Would you like me to tell you how to write a traffic ticket?”

She cruised through a few intersections until she’d reached a residential area. This part of town was somewhat hilly, which would help with her strategy. She spotted the turnoff she wanted and pulled into a middle-class neighborhood. She turned down a semi-busy street and glanced at the mirror. He wasn’t visible, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. She got to the crest of a hill and quickly darted her gaze around in search of a
FOR SALE
sign. No luck.

The sedan appeared behind her, about a hundred yards back.

Another hill. This time she spotted what she needed. In the yard, a sign. In the driveway, no cars. She floored the gas pedal, then whipped up into the driveway and cut the engine.

“Get down,” she said, pulling Nathan’s arm and ducking her head down.

They were hunched over the console, their faces just inches apart. Her gaze dropped to that mouth that had sent shock waves through her body last night. She wanted him to kiss her again. She glanced up and saw that he was watching her. He looked as though he could read her mind.

A delivery truck roared past. Then the quiet
whoosh
of a car.

“Think that was him?” she asked.

“It sounded right.”

Slowly, they both straightened and peered out the back window. Alex started the car and backed down the driveway. The street was empty now. She sped through the next several intersections, looking up and down side streets for any sign of the sedan.

“Pretty good,” Nathan said.

“‘Good’ would have been catching up to him and getting a license plate.” She glanced down another empty cul-de-sac and cursed.

“Ah, don’t be so hard on yourself. You caught him off guard. Anyway, I’ve got to be in court in half an hour.”

“You want me to drop you off?”

“Just take me to the station,” he said. “I can pick up a car.”

By the time they pulled into the lot behind APD, Alex’s frustration with him had returned. Where was the trust? The cooperation?

“Just pull over here,” he said, pointing to a narrow street beside the employee lot.

Alex pulled over and blew out a sigh. She shoved the car into Park.

“I appreciate the ride.” He turned and grabbed his blazer off the backseat. Then he lifted the paper evidence bag out of the cup holder. Thanks to Mia, the bag containing the earbud now had an official evidence label on it, complete with a bar code and a list of signatures. “Mind if I hang on to this?” he asked.

She looked at him for a moment, confused. “What happened to ‘zero evidentiary value’?”

“Let me worry about that.” He pulled a pen from the pocket of his jacket and scrawled his name on the evidence label, just beneath hers. “I’ll get you a receipt for this, okay?”

“Okay.”

He tucked the bag and the pen safely into his pocket. He looked her in the eye. “Be careful.”

With a sigh, she put the car in gear. “I will.”

“And Alex?”

“What?”

He leaned across the console and kissed her—hard.

And then he left.

Nathan’s phone rang the instant he walked out of the police station.

Alex. They’d been playing phone tag for two days now, and he had a strong suspicion she was dodging him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Guess what. I was right about that truck.”

Nathan unlocked his car and slid in. This was work related, as he should have guessed.

“Turns out there
was
a wrecker called out to Moccasin Road a few weeks ago to pull a Blazer out of a ditch,” she said. “Lone Star Towing. The towing company’s records show—”

“How’d you hack into their records?”

“I didn’t. I made friends with the clerk in their office,” she said. “Their driver took the car all the way up to Greene’s Automotive up on Highway 183.”

“That’s a hike from Moccasin Road.”

“I know. It was a cash transaction, and the driver claims he doesn’t remember much else. But the Blazer could be a secondary crime scene. I’m thinking, if you can find out what happened to it—”

“I got it, Alex.”

Pause. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I know. What are you doing right now?”

Silence as she analyzed the question.

“I’d really like to see you tonight,” he said. Was that clear enough? A second ticked by. And another.

“Tonight doesn’t work,” she said, and he thought he heard regret in her voice. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure, I’ll call you.”

They clicked off, and he tossed his phone onto his dashboard. It rang almost immediately. He saw Nicole’s number on the screen, and his evening took another nosedive.

“Yeah?”

“Well, well,” his ex-wife greeted him. “Don’t
you
sound happy?”

“I’m not.”

“Meet me for a drink,” she said. “It’ll cheer you up.”

Not likely.

“I’m tied up right now.”

“Well, untie yourself. This is important.”

He very much doubted it, but twenty minutes later, he parked his Mustang and walked into the Randolph Hotel. Stuffy as ever. He crossed the spacious lobby and entered Lariat Lounge. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he spied Nicole at the bar.

He could tell she’d come from the office. Her hair was back in her typical loose bun, and she’d draped a jacket over the back of the bar stool. She wore a fitted black skirt and a white silk blouse, the price of which would probably give him a heart attack. Thankfully, her shopping habits were no longer his problem.

He walked over. “Hi,” he said, and kissed her cheek. She smelled like Obsession, which set off a little warning in his head. He’d always liked that perfume on her, and she damn well knew it.

“I ordered you a Dewar’s,” she said.

He glanced at her Tanqueray and tonic and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Thank
you
. I know how busy your evenings get.”

One of her little darts. Nathan’s crappy hours had been one of the primary problems in their marriage. The other had been money.

His drink came, and he took a sip, eyeing his ex-wife over the glass. “You look good,” he said, because it was true.

She smiled. “You look good, too.”

He waited for her to get to the point. When she tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, he knew she was ready to begin.

“I keep hearing your name come up.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “Adamcek wants to recruit me over there to work for him?”

Nicole gave him a peevish look. She was an assistant district attorney, and Nathan’s feelings for her boss—the Travis County D.A.—were no secret.

“I’m hearing it from our investigators,” she said. “And some cops.”

“Such as?”

“Cernak, McElroy, Webb—”

“Webb’s a blowhard.”

“That’s not the point. Sounds like you’re asking a lot of questions about Craig Coghan.”

Nathan shifted his attention to the stage across the bar where a brunette woman in a slinky black dress was adjusting the microphone.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Asking questions about Coghan?”

“I ask questions about a lot of people,” he said. “It’s my job.”

She picked up her glass and took a sip. He could tell she was annoyed.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“For a man with your intelligence, you’re extremely oblivious to politics.”

“I think the guy’s dirty,” he said.

“You’re way out in left field with that.”

“I mean it.”

“I can tell. But you think you might want to leave this to IA? Coghan has some serious connections in this town, and you’re not doing yourself any favors.”

He shrugged.

She put her hand on his arm and leaned closer. “You ever wonder why you’ve been doing the same crap job for the same crap pay going on twelve years now?”

“I’m good at it?”

She shook her head, exasperated. “Always sarcasm. I’m trying to do you a favor, Nathan.”

“Well, don’t.”

She sighed and looked away.

He felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she was honestly trying to help him. She’d never understood his priorities. They’d both grown up working class, but Nathan didn’t fantasize about climbing any social ladders. Nicole did. He didn’t blame her, really. He just didn’t share her willingness to make nice with people he thought were assholes.

And if his questions were pissing off people in the D.A.’s office who thought Coghan hung the moon, Nathan didn’t much care. The D.A. was a weakling, and Nathan was fed up with watching the dirtbags he arrested plead down to minor offenses.

He sipped his drink and tried to take the edge off his mood. It didn’t work. What was Alex doing tonight? Three nights in a row, she’d been busy. Was she out with Troy Stockton again? Nathan had disliked the guy on sight, and he liked him even less since he’d checked him out.

He glanced at Nicole, who was silently smoothing her cocktail napkin. He could tell she was hurt by his don’t-give-a-shit attitude. He decided to change the subject.

“How’s Mandy?” he asked.

She glanced at him, surprised. “Fine.”

“She graduates in May, doesn’t she?”

“That’s right.” Again, he’d surprised her. Nathan always had had a soft spot for Nicole’s youngest sister.

“Tell her I said hi, would you?”

“I will.” She smiled slightly. “Mandy always liked you.”

“She’s a good kid.”

She put her hand on his arm again. “
I
always liked you, too.”

“Yeah, up until you didn’t.”

She tipped her head to the side and looked at him for a long moment. “You dating anyone now?”

“No.”

“Well, you should be. You’re too much of a workaholic. It isn’t healthy.”