Joan Pickart - Body of Evidence

“Yes, we have. In fact, we’re about to make an arrest. We’ve discovered a key piece of evidence.”

Darien was sure she saw Gardner draw back infinitesimally.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out about it?” Darien asked softly. “It’s pretty distinctive, after all. All Gardner jewelry would be.”

Lyle paled visibly. “I lost that ring. Long ago. You can’t prove otherwise.”

Gotcha! Darien exulted silently.

“Did you?” Colin asked.

“Yes.”

“So there will be a claim on file with your insurance company?” Darien put in sweetly, already knowing perfectly well there hadn’t been.

Gardner suddenly seemed to realize he was digging himself into a hole. “I’m through with your questions. My attorney will speak for me from now on.”

“Fine. We’ll call him for you from the station,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Colin reached into his pocket and took out some folded papers. “I’m afraid you are, Mr. Gardner. This arrest warrant says so.”

“Whatever judge you got to sign that won’t be on the bench for long.”

“Amazingly enough, there is a judge in Chicago who doesn’t owe the Gardners a thing,” Colin said.

Fuming, Gardner swore indelicately. “I’m calling my attorney now.”

Colin shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We won’t be needing to ask you any questions now anyway.”

He spoke as if the case was open-and-shut, as if he were utterly confident that nothing Gardner could do would make any difference. It rattled the man, Darien could see it in his face.

“Oh, wait,” Colin said. “I was wrong, there is one more question.”

“I won’t answer anything.”

“That’s okay. I already know the answer, anyway.”

Darien could see he was struggling not to ask. And saw the moment when he gave up. “The answer to what?”

Colin smiled. “To how you knew we were talking about your ring. We never mentioned it.”

The man visibly blanched.

“Lyle Gardner, you are under arrest for the murder of Franklin Gardner,” Colin said with satisfaction.

Darien typed the last line on the jail booking form, hit the enter key with a flourish.

“Voilà,” she said. “The end. Mr. Lyle Gardner is officially booked.”

“Too bad the investigation hasn’t ended. We’ve still got to find that ring.”

Darien sighed. “Don’t rain on my parade just yet, will you? Give me an hour or so to feel some job satisfaction.”

Colin grinned. “Well, since it’s your first time…”

She took a swipe at him, but she was grinning back. It did feel good, even he had to admit it. The case wasn’t a lock, not by a long shot, but he knew in his gut they had the right guy. Not that that would be worth a thing in court.

“Do you need to go back to the office?” he asked.

“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I don’t want Palmer to ruin my mood.”

“He was right about one thing.”

“Palmer? Hard to believe. What?”

“The convenience.”

She blinked. “What?” she repeated.

“It’s convenient. If you were to marry me, you wouldn’t have to change your initial.”

Her breath caught audibly, but she recovered quickly. As she always did. “What makes you think I’d change my name anyway?”

“Then I won’t have to change my initial,” he said with a lopsided grin.

She laughed then, warming him anew. Mostly because she hadn’t shut him down outright. He still felt a little bit like he was on an out-of-control train, but to his own surprise, he didn’t want to jump off.

Not as long as his new partner was on board.

With thanks to our editor, Ann Leslie Tuttle, who was buried in e-mail during this challenging project

Dear Reader,

It was a privilege to work with two such talented authors on this project, and the three of us were e-mailing back and forth in a frenzy to be certain that our descriptions and details matched.

As Evan and Jennifer became living, breathing people to me, I could feel Evan’s frustration as he waited, and hoped, for the evidence that would convict Lyle Gardner. But despite Evan’s dedication to his career, Jennifer staked a claim on his heart. Beautiful, spunky Jennifer, with her precious secret she feared to share with Evan, and who was also dedicated to her unique career, had the womanly wisdom to know there was room for so much more in her life.

While writing this book, I learned so much about what goes on behind the scenes as each step is taken to ensure that justice will be the victor when a horrendous crime has been committed.

We all owe a heartfelt thanks to the men and women in every area of law enforcement who make these troubled times in our world safer for all of us.

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I did writing it. I am very eager to read the first two stories in the collection now that they are completed. As you are curled up in the corner of your sofa turning the pages, know I’m doing the same right along with you.

Once again, I want to thank all of you for your continued support through the years and for the wonderful letters you take the time to write to me.

Warmest regards,

J ennifer Anderson stopped in the hallway on the top floor of the courthouse and turned to look up at the very tall young man who had a camera balanced on his shoulder.

“Take a break, Sticks,” Jennifer said. “I’m going to attempt to make some sense of these notes of mine while I remember what the scribbling means. Meet me in the lounge down the hall in half an hour or so.”

“Yep,” Sticks said, then ambled away.

Jennifer entered the empty lounge and sank onto one of the chairs that surrounded a large rectangular table. She propped one elbow on the top of the table, rested her chin in her hand and closed her eyes.

Oh, gracious, she thought, she was sleepy. She’d like nothing better than to curl up on the lumpy-looking sofa on the back wall of the lounge and take a nap. If she allowed herself to relax for even three seconds she’d nod off. Just one…two…

Jennifer jerked and opened her eyes as she began to drift off. She patted her cheeks, told herself she was wide-awake and looked at the notes.

Next on the agenda, she thought, was to film the final footage of the documentary, which meant it was time to glue herself to District Attorney Evan Stone.

Evan, Evan, Evan.

Dear heaven, what would Evan do, say, if he knew that she…

“Don’t go there, Jennifer,” she mumbled. “Not now.”

Jennifer glanced at her watch, got to her feet, then smoothed the hem of her green sweater over the black slacks she wore with low-heeled, black shoes.

Okay, here I go, she thought. She’d put this meeting with Evan off for as long as she could, had filmed so much footage of police detectives, and secretaries and assistant district attorneys it was ridiculous. She’d been gathering her courage to see Evan again and be able to act pleasant and professional.

“I can do this,” she said, starting across the lounge.

“Do what?” Sticks said, appearing in the doorway.

“Oh. Listen, Sticks, just hang out in here for now. I need to find out if Evan Stone is available, then chat with him a bit about how we’re going to do this.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine. Okay,” she said. “I’m going down the hall to his office now. Yep, that’s what I’m doing. Right now. Bye.” Jennifer didn’t move.

“You’re acting weird.”