Joan Pickart - Body of Evidence

By the time she was back in the car with Colin, she wasn’t any closer to figuring it out. So when he asked her what she’d gotten, all she could say was, “She’s hiding something. She knows something, or is afraid we’ll find out something she doesn’t want us to.”

“Protecting someone?”

She considered that. “Possibly.” And then, after a moment, she added, “And I can’t think of all that many people she’d take the risk for.”

“Neither can I.”

“So if we follow this to the logical end…”

“We’ve narrowed our suspect pool considerably,” Colin said, finishing the thought for her. “Especially after Stephen’s comment about his father being big on family loyalty.” The two prime suspects were obviously what was left of Cecelia Gardner’s family. And that made the morass they were treading through even messier.

“And if our suspect is someone important enough for Cecelia Gardner to protect…”

Colin again finished her unspoken thought. “It’s somebody we’re going to have to be very careful with.”

“So now what?”

“Back to the station, I guess. I need to find something, and I may need your help.”

“All right. What is it?”

“A photograph. Probably a society page type of thing.”

“And it’s at the station?”

“No. I’m not even sure it exists, but if it does I figured you could help me find it online.”

“If you need an online search, let’s go to my place. I’ve got a cable connection, and it’ll be a lot faster.”

“All right. Where to?”

She gave him the address of her apartment, and he nodded.

Darien barely noticed the quiet as they drove; she’d found silence with Colin soothing rather than unsettling. Besides, she was sure he was thinking as hard as she was about what they’d learned today. And about what they’d guessed at. What she didn’t know was if he was worrying as much as she was whether those guesses were right. What if she was wrong about Mrs. Gardner, or about Stephen? What kind of instincts did she have, after all?

She suppressed a shiver, and told herself she hadn’t done anything based on her guesses, so it didn’t matter. But it still made her edgy, and she wondered if Colin had ever felt like this.

And wondered if she now had the right to ask.

Darien ’s apartment was small, but Colin immediately felt comfortable in it. It was decorated in bright, warm, cheerful colors that were pleasant after the cold outside. The living room was narrow, containing only a sofa, a chair, coffee table and an entertainment center, but they were arranged cozily and looked comfortable. It felt like a home, unlike his own spartan digs. Or maybe it was just that she made him feel as if he was coming home. The thought stopped his breath, and he was glad when she spoke.

“Coffee? Or something stronger?”

“Coffee,” he said, then added, “with the option for the other later.”

She walked to the small kitchen that was tucked into one corner and divided from the rest of the room by a small island. She filled a coffeemaker that sat on the counter and started it. Then she walked to an alcove that housed a desk and computer that looked much more impressive than the ones at the station, and pushed a button to boot up. It took a moment as things whirred and beeped, and data flashed across the screen. When it was done, she leaned over and made a couple of mouse clicks. She opened a browser, then glanced back at the coffeemaker, which was already dripping the dark brew into the pot.

“I’ll get it,” Colin said. “Cups?”

“Mugs in the cupboard just above. Milk in the fridge, sugar in the green canister.”

He nodded, and she pulled up her desk chair and sat down. “All right,” she asked, “what am I looking for?”

He told her, and while it didn’t make sense to her-they’d just left the real thing, after all-she started the search.

He came over and set a steaming cup beside her. She glanced at it, and saw it was exactly the shade she liked.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched for a moment as she clicked on various search results, then let out a low whistle. “Whew. You weren’t kidding about it being faster.”

“I’m spoiled,” she said. “At the station it seems to take forever.”

“I can see why, if this is what you’re used to. I’ve never seen-” He stopped suddenly. “There. That one, with the woman in red. Can you go back to it?” She clicked once and the image reappeared. He studied it for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

“Keep going?”

“Yes, please.”

The steady process began again, and he sipped at his coffee as he watched. Occasionally he stopped her on a shot, but always seemed to decide it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Dare I ask exactly what it is you’re looking for?”

“Something with a clear, closer shot of the left hand.”

She blinked. And in that moment guessed his intent.

With a series of clicks that went so fast he could barely keep up she went back to a photograph he’d rejected a few moments ago. She clicked on it, a menu popped up, and she seemed to pull it right out of the article-a report on the annual Gardner Corporation Christmas Gala-and it appeared in another window.

She began to work with what appeared to be some kind of photo software, and within a few minutes, she hit one last button and a new window began to fill with an enlarged, sharpened image.

When it was done, he was standing there staring at a piece of evidence that could make the case. It wasn’t razor sharp, and it lacked detail, but it was enough to make it clear his idea was possible.

“Can you print that?” His voice was a little tight.

“Sure.”

She hit two more buttons, and he heard the whir of a printer starting up. Then she turned to him.

“How did you know?”

“Something’s been bothering me every time we saw him.” He gestured at the subject in the photo. “And today, I finally figured it out. I think it was because we were out in the sun, so it was more obvious. A tan line, where a ring used to be.”

She turned to look at the picture still up on her monitor, and made the jump instantly. “The ring that explains those facial bruises. And he’s left-handed.”

“Yes.”

“And he’d easily be able to grab that security camera tape.”

“Yes.”

Her gaze shifted back to him. “Then we’ve got him?”

He shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a fuzzy newspaper photo. But it’s a good start.”

Darien turned to look once more at the photograph. She stared at it for what seemed like a long time, but Colin knew by now that her mind was probably racing. And then she spoke, and proved him right.

“A Gardner wouldn’t wear cheap jewelry, right?”

“Not likely.”

She swiveled in the chair and looked up at him. “Then wouldn’t it be likely that that ring is insured somewhere?”

His brows furrowed. “Probably. It would-” He stopped abruptly as what she was thinking hit him. “And insurance means photographs!”

“Detailed closeups, I’d expect. Is the name of the insurance company anywhere in the reports, for the items reported stolen?”

“Should be, it’s pretty routine.” He grinned at her. “Next time anybody hassles you about how you got this job, you send them to me.”

“I’ll do that.”

The look she gave him then made him feel as if he’d done a whole lot more than simply acknowledged that she had what it took to do this job. It also made him feel downright warm inside, a sensation he didn’t even bother to try and shrug off this time. At this point, he wasn’t sure he cared if he was on a runaway train.

“So Lyle Gardner is suspect number one,” he said after a moment.