Bullshit.
Smith closed the door behind her. The two chairs in front of McNeal’s desk were empty. Todd stood just to the left of the chairs, while Colin was positioned near the back of the captain’s office, right beside an oversized green plant. A plant Todd wasn’t entirely convinced was real.
Smith crossed the room. Sat in the chair next to Todd. “What did I miss?”
McNeal stared down at her. “You all right?” He asked suddenly.
Todd saw her shoulders tighten. “Fine.”
He almost snorted. He had no idea the lady was such a lousy liar.
He could tell by the doubt on McNeal’s face that the captain knew she was lying, too.
But he didn’t push her, just sat back down in his chair, and said, “You didn’t miss much. Just discussing the tox screen.”
The tension in her shoulders eased a bit as she said, “Michael House wasn’t given any drugs. At least, not as far as I can tell.” She held up one hand, the fingers steady. “Now, I didn’t screen for everything—would have been damn impossible to screen for every drug. But I hit the main boys, every mix that I thought could do something like this.” A shake of her head. “He was clean.”
“So what’s the cause of death going to be?”
Her hand dropped. “At this point, the COD is going down as undetermined.”
Todd swore. “Smith, if it goes down like that—”
“Then you’re off the case,” McNeal finished. “Because as far as the mayor and DA are concerned, there will be no case.”
“I didn’t say the victim died of natural causes,” Smith pointed out quickly, her voice rising a bit.
“You might as well have.” Damn it, the guy had been murdered. Todd knew it in his gut. “What about the hand, Smith? That print on his chest?”
McNeal’s fist slammed down on the desk, hard. “What print?”
“It’s not a print.” Smith turned her head and glowered at him. “It’s not like I can scan the thing and get fingerprints.” She looked back at McNeal. “It’s just…an outline. Of a hand.”
“Right in the middle of Michael House’s chest,” Colin said quietly.
“It’s a bruise,” McNeal dismissed, fingers tapping now on the desktop. “Has to be. The assailant applied pressure to his chest and—”
“It’s certainly not what I’d call a normal bruise. Colin…” Smith pointed to McNeal. “Show him the pictures.”
Colin marched forward. Handed the case file to the captain.
“A normal bruise can appear after a vic’s death, but…” Smith rubbed her forehead. Todd snaked around the desk to get a better look at the pictures. “Bruises are generally of varying discolorations. This one is the exact same throughout. A perfect black outline.
There aren’t pressure marks, no damage beneath the surface of the skin.”
She stood up, walked over, and shoved her hand at Todd’s chest, hard. He grunted under the impact.
“When I hit him, I used the ball of my hand. It gives the most force. Or,” another shove, “I can push him back with the tips of my fingers. Just…not with as much power” A faint smile tilted the corners of her full lips. “Sorry, Brooks.”
“Don’t be, Smith. He deserved it.” The rumble came from Colin.
Smith had once joked easily with Colin. They’d been good friends. Now, she seemed to shut down at the sound of his voice, her smile fading instantly.
“Neither of those hits would leave a mark like the one found on House.” Her hand fell away from Todd. “Even if the perp were over the vic, shoving him down into the bed, it would have been a ball-of-hand contact. There is no scenario I can think of that would leave that perfect outline of a person’s hand.”
“Ah, shit.” McNeal’s fingers rubbed over his eyes. “Smith, I wish you’d give me this information first. I’ve told you time and again there is chain of command here and—”
“I put the file in your box long before I gave a copy to Gyth.” She raised a brow. “Have you checked your box, Captain?”
“I’ve been here since four a.m., stuck in a damn three-and-a-half-hour emergency meeting with the mayor and DA,” he snapped.
“So, no, Smith, I haven’t!”
“Well, next time, you should. Especially before you go growling at me about how to do my job! I know how to do my job!”
She was all but going across the desk at him as she nearly shouted her words, and the lady finally was acting like her old self.
McNeal leaned forward, eyes narrowed.
“McNeal. Smith.” It was Colin’s steely voice that broke the tension in the room.
Their furious faces immediately turned toward him. Colin cleared his throat, then said, “Captain, as you pointed out to me and Brooks, we really don’t have time for this shit.”
Touché.
Smith drew in a deep breath. Took a few steps back, then slowly lowered her body into the chair. “Are you going to be able to exhume the other two bodies?”
A hard shake of McNeal’s head. “DA will never go for even trying on the order. Especially if House isn’t going down as a homicide.”
“I checked House’s body, thoroughly.” She shook her head. “The man shouldn’t have died.”
The captain’s gaze darted to Colin.
Todd tensed when his partner gave an almost imperceptible nod. What the hell?
McNeal peered down at the files again. “Well, at least we damn well know the last vic—what was his name?”
“Thomas Monroe,” Todd supplied.
“Yeah, well, at least we know Monroe was murdered. Turn your focus onto him.”
They had been focusing on him, and the other dead men who kept turning up. “There were no prints on the knife, but we did retrieve a hair from the mattress.” A long strand of blond hair, and that fit because, “The desk clerk said a blond was there with Monroe.” Just like a blond had been in the other hotels with the other dead men.
But why the change in MO? It made no sense. If the perp was the same, why change methods now? Why change them at all?
“The press has gotten wind of the link in the murders.” Colin’s voice was quiet, tense. “That new reporter for News Flash Five, Holly Storm—”
So now he remembered her name.
“—she was at the House scene, too. Must’ve gotten there after we left. She talked to the desk clerk. Found out about the bondage, and now she knows about Monroe.”