Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

After I let Yoshi out to relieve himself, he came back inside and I gave him one of the dog treats Kara had bought. I decided to head to the police station and talk to Candace. Gannon accomplished what I believed he’d set out to do—get under my skin.

I expected to see Tom in the waiting area when I arrived, but B.J. said he’d gone home.

That’s strange, I thought. “Did he take Finn with him?” I asked.

B.J. shook his head and then whispered, “He knows a lawyer but needed to get the contact information from home.”

“This attorney is for Finn?” I said. The news Finn needed a lawyer combined with the stuffy, hot air made me feel queasy. They must have turned the heat up in this place yesterday and forgot to turn it back down.

B.J. put a finger to his lips and continued speaking in a low voice. “The mother left to see if she could get her lawyer here first. Tom and Mrs. Roth were spittin’ nails at each other when they left.”

“Finn’s still here?” I said quietly.

“Yeah, but they haven’t arrested him. Don’t know why, though.” B.J. stood and leaned closer to me, speaking even softer. “Between you and me, I can tell Deputy Carson isn’t sure about this one, even though evidence is piling up.”

“She isn’t sure because anyone who spent more than five minutes with Finn would know he’d never intentionally harm anyone,” I said. “Candace hopes to find evidence to free Finn, not send him to jail. She can be tough, but she also listens to her gut. She’s smart and fair.”

B.J.’s eyes were wide when I finished speaking and I realized I’d put plenty of passion into my little speech.

Then I heard the sound of a door opening down the hall and B.J. quickly sat down. Candace appeared, and when she saw me she walked to the waiting area. Perspiration dotted her hairline and her cheeks were flushed.

“You look like you’ve been pulled through a knothole backward,” I said.

“Morris insisted on turning up the thermostat. Says it helps sweat out a confession.” She rolled her eyes. “It won’t work ’cause I’m more convinced than ever that this kid didn’t do it. All Morris has accomplished is to make me about ready to confess to this murder. As for Finn, he still can’t remember anything more than he did the last time I talked to him.”

The thought of Morris pressuring Finn didn’t sit well with me, even though I understood he was only doing his job. “You can’t convince Morris to let up on Finn?” I asked.

“You’re kidding, right?” she said. “I can only hope Morris will come to his senses and see how things just aren’t adding up.”

She glanced at B.J., who was doodling on the notebook in front of him but probably taking in every word. “Come with me and I’ll explain about what the evidence is telling me .”

“Only if you turn down the darn thermostat,” I said.

Minutes later, I sat at the table in the center of the officer’s break room with a chilled bottle of water in front of me. Candace had turned the heat off, but it still had to be eighty degrees in here.

She screwed the cap off her own water and gulped down half the bottle before she took a spot across from me.

“Where’s Finn now?” I asked.

“Still in the interrogation room with Morris. He’s never asked for a lawyer, but both Tom and Hilary Roth are scrambling to get him one. Finn said he’s tired of saying the same thing over and over. And you know what? I’m tired of hearing it.”

“Can’t you let him go?” I said. “I could take him back to my house, let him play with his dog, ask him a few questions. But I need to know about this evidence first. Otherwise, I’ll hear the same things, too.”

She held the cold bottle against her forehead. “If you hadn’t been so helpful to us in the past—especially to Chief Baca—I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you anything. I swear the chief would hire you as a consultant if he could get away with it.”

“That’s never happening. But I care about this kid, so anything I can do to help, I will. What’s this evidence?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We found Finn’s prints in Tom’s car.”

“Uh-oh,” I said.

“We can’t say when they got there. See, that’s the problem with prints. They could have been left on the door handle three days or three weeks ago. But we have other evidence. First off, the lab found traces of baking soda and potassium chloride on the hoodie.”

“What does that mean?” I said.

“Those residues indicate he was in a car when air bags deployed,” she said.

“So he did hurt his head in the car wreck?” This is what I’d feared all along.

“Not so fast. I’ll get to his head injury. More important, we also got the DNA back from the blood on the hoodie. It belonged to the victim.”

I gripped the water bottle tightly and stared down at the scarred Formica-topped table. “You’re saying you’re positive he was in the car when Nolan Roth was shot?”

“Or was there immediately afterward,” she said. “His sweatshirt came in contact with the victim’s blood. Problem is, we found no blood on the sleeve. If he held a gun and shot Roth at close range, we would have found spatter on the sleeve.”

“So this is good news?” I said.

“It’s a bit confusing,” she replied.

“No kidding. Can you make it a little clearer?” I asked.

“The gun was wiped clean, for one thing,” she said. “Question. You were there when Tom took the gun out of the backpack. How did he pick it up?”

“He put his index finger through the trigger guard—like I’ve seen on cop shows,” I said. “He carried it to the other room like that.”

“He still could have wiped it down before he put it in his gun safe, though he denies doing this. I have no reason to doubt his word. We did find a smudge on the trigger consistent with him carrying the gun with his finger.”

“Tom may not tell you everything he knows, but he wouldn’t outright lie,” I said.

“Like I said, I agree. There’s more information in Finn’s favor. We know Roth was shot after the air bags deployed because we found his blood all over them. If Finn injured his head and the doctor who examined him believes he was knocked unconscious, could he really have woken up in a stupor, shot Roth, wiped the gun down, yet failed to wipe off the other surfaces he touched?”

I nodded, considering this. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. And why not ditch the bloody sweatshirt if he was with-it enough to wipe prints off the gun?”

“See? We’re on the same page. There’s something else very interesting—and it’s the reason I’m completely against arresting Finn.” Candace sipped her water. “I believe I’ve come up with a scenario that fits the evidence better than Finn being the shooter.”

I leaned forward, excited. “Really? What is it?”

“We found skin cells, a small amount of blood and one sandy hair clinging to the deflated air bag in the spot matching up to a round trace of potassium chloride and baking soda on the dashboard beneath the deflated air bag—which means it was deposited there with force after deployment. The blood and hair didn’t belong to the victim. We also found saliva on the air bag and it wasn’t Roth’s either.”

I was the one who was confused now. “The air bag would have prevented Finn from hitting the dashboard. Are you telling me he hit his head after the crash? How?”

“The air bag might have malfunctioned and he could have been injured in the crash, but we found no evidence to support this. Side and front air bags all inflated and deflated properly. Let me demonstrate what I believe might have happened—something I hope the evidence will back up.” She stood and came over to my side of the table. “Sit back in the chair like you’re a passenger in Tom’s car.”