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  “How much longer do you have here?” I asked.

  “An hour or two. I have to remove all the knives and get each one bagged. After I get everything taken care of here, I’ll head back to the lab and get started processing. Maybe there is something on the blades. I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything,” Pax said.

  I turned back to Rick. “Is this exactly how she was found when the officers arrived on the scene?”

  Rick nodded in confirmation.

  “Did you guys find anything else?” I asked.

  “We have a small smear in the blood pool on the floor there.” Rick pointed.

  “Shoe?”

  “I don’t think so. It looks more like something brushed through it.”

  “Not from any of us?” I asked.

  Rich shook his head. “Perpetrator, probably. We have some photos of it. I’ll try to see what I can make of it back at the office. Aside from that, the pillow over her face suggests remorse. I’m guessing whoever did it knew her. I already took prints from the back door that showed forced entry. I’m going to print the entire kitchen after this. If we can get good sets of the homeowner’s prints, we’ll have something to work off of.”

  “Is Ed on his way?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we figured it would be a bit before we were finished and he could take her.”

  “All right. Thanks, Rick. We’ll leave you to it.”

  I left the bedroom, and Hank followed.

  “What do you think, Hank?”

  “Husband out of town and his wife gets murdered like that? Either the husband himself or a boyfriend. Someone who knew her. Nothing looked like it had been rummaged through. Purse on the dresser in plain sight—definitely not a robbery.”

  I started down the steps back to the first floor. “Let’s talk to the neighbor. We’ll figure out a way to get in contact with her husband and let him know what happened here, if he doesn’t already.”

  We walked out the front of the house. Rickson and Lowen were speaking with the neighbor on his front patio.

  “Go introduce yourself to the neighbor,” I said. “Have him run through it for you. Get some contact information for the husband. I’m going to talk with Lowen and Rickson, see what they picked up from the guy.”

  We walked down the sidewalk. Hank made for the officers and the neighbor at the front door. I waited, and the two officers walked back toward me.

  “Is the guy’s story staying the same?” I asked.

  Rickson nodded. “We went through his whereabouts over the last two days—work, kids’ sports, and at home with the family here. The guy has no priors. Everything, whereabouts-wise, is written on the statement if you want to make sure it all clears.”

  “Thanks. Did you get a hold of the husband?”

  Rickson let out a breath. “Yeah, I told him we found his wife deceased. Homicide. I didn’t elaborate.”

  “His reaction?” I asked.

  “It seemed normal for the most part: disbelief, followed by a breakdown. The guy said he would get on the first flight back.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Charles Riaola”

  “Okay. I’ll have Waterman at the airport get me his flight information. Do we know where he was at on business?”

  “Atlanta.”

  I wrote it down in my notepad. “Where’s the statement from the neighbor?”

  “Sergeant Rawlings has it. I handed it off to him when he walked up. I think he’s running through it with the neighbor one more time.”

  “All right.”

  Hank walked back toward us. He handed the sheet back to Rickson. “The guy seems on the up and up. I got a mobile number for the husband.”

  “Did the neighbor hear anything funny going on over here last night or the day before?” I asked.

  “Nope. He said everything was normal. He also didn’t see anyone coming or going from the property,” Hank said.

  “Yeah, well, someone did.”

  The coroner’s van rounded the corner, and Ed backed the van into the driveway and hopped out.

  “Thanks, guys. Can you make sure there’s a copy of the neighbor’s statement on my desk when you get back?”

  “No problem, Lieutenant,” Lowen said.

  Hank and I headed for Ed standing in the driveway.

  “Kane, Rawlings,” Ed said.

  “Hey, Ed. How are you doing?” I asked.

  He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Same old same. Did you guys get a look inside yet?”

  We nodded.

  “Woman filled with knives,” Hank said.

  “Are Rick and Pax still working on her?” Ed asked.

  “The last we checked, they were. Are you going to be able to start the autopsy today?” I asked.

  “I should be able to, depending on when I get out of here.”

  “Let me know. I need to get some flight information for the husband. I want to be the first face he sees when he gets off the plane,” I said.

  “The husband was out of town, huh?” Ed asked.

  “Atlanta,” I said.

  Ed ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, that’s convenient.”

  “Okay Ed, we’ll leave you to it. Give me a buzz later.”

  “No sweat, Kane.”

  Hank and I headed back to the station.

  Chapter 3 - Kane

  I sat at my desk going through my notes from the scene and the neighbor’s statement—he checked out. I had tried calling the husband five or six times. Each of my calls went straight to his voice mail. I’d left him a message each time. After my talk with Waterman, I knew he didn’t have a flight booked back to Tampa yet. If the guy was guilty, he could have run. The time inched toward five o’clock, and Callie and I had dinner plans. I figured I’d try the guy one last time before I started to shut everything down for the day.

  I scooped up the phone and dialed the number for the husband—it rang twice in my ear.

  “This is Charles,” a man answered. His voice sounded normal, not distressed.

  “Mr. Riaola, this is Lieutenant Carl Kane with the Tampa Police Department. I left you a few messages.”

  “I got them. I’m sorry I didn’t call back right away.” He paused. “I just needed some time to think. Plus, I’ve been trying to find a flight back.”

  “Okay, well, I just wanted to introduce myself to you and see when we’d be able to get together. I understand you’re in Atlanta on business, and this has to be terribly difficult. Yet, the sooner we can meet, the better.”

  “I’ve been trying to find a flight back. There’s just nothing available. My original nonstop flight gets me back tomorrow early afternoon. I think I’m just going to drive my rental car back.”

  I jotted no flights and rental car down in my notepad with a question mark after each.

  “Can… Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “She was stabbed.”

  “Stabbed?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  He took a moment to respond. “Have you found who did it?”

  “Not as of yet. We have a team collecting evidence from the house now and are just beginning our investigation.”

  Silence came from the other end of the phone again. Riaola cleared his throat. “What evidence did you find?”

  In all my years working homicides, I’d never heard that question asked right out of the gates.

  “We’re still processing everything,” I said.

  “Has she been taken from the house?”

  “She has, Mr. Riaola.”

  “How do I…? Where do I need to go to?”

  “You’ll need to speak with someone at the Hillsborough County medical examiner’s office.” I gave him Ed’s number and flipped my notepad to a clean page. “While I have you on the line, I’d like to ask a few quick questions.”

  He let out a deep breath of air into the phone. “Sure.”

  “When did you leave for Atlanta?” I asked.

  “
I left Monday morning.”

  “And you flew out of TPA?”

  “Yes.”

  I tapped the end of my pen on my notepad. “And this was a planned business trip?”

  “It was. I work in sales for an industrial supply company. I flew in for a Tuesday and Wednesday trade show. I was flying back tomorrow morning.”

  “The company you work for?”

  “American Industrial Materials.”

  “Is that out of the Tampa area, here?”

  “It’s based in Tampa, yes.”

  I wrote down his employer’s information in my notebook. “Did you park at the airport in Tampa, or were you dropped off?”

  “I parked there.”

  “And do you remember which lot?”

  “Um, I’m sure I have the information lying around somewhere. It was one of the long-term lots. I have to ask how any of this is important in finding the person who did this?”

  “I just need to be able to verify your whereabouts.”

  More silence came from the other end of the phone.

  “Mr. Riaola? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here. Do you think I had something to do with this?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Riaola. I have a call coming in. Can you just hold on one second for me? I’ll be right back with you.” I placed him on hold.

  Any time I would get that question, I always gave the person asking a minute to think about it. His response when I came back to the phone would tell me a lot. He would do one of three things: lawyer up, toss someone under the bus, or give me everyone under the sun that could confirm where he was.

  I thought about his answers to my questions so far. His demeanor and quick responses had thrown up a red flag. When he did pause before an answer, it seemed timed for effect. Normally, when I barraged people with questions, they would interrupt, asking about their loved ones—they would stop, cry, and be hysterical. That guy was answering everything in a calm, direct manner. I needed to lay off. He was out of town, and if I pressed too hard, he would never be back. I needed this guy in a room.

  I clicked the phone off of hold. “Thanks for holding for me. To answer your question, I have no way of knowing that one way or the other right now. My job is to collect evidence and make sure everyone I’m in contact with is where they say they were. That’s going to help me find out who did this. Try not to take the questions personally. They need to be asked just to rule you out.”

  “I just… I would never do anything to hurt my wife.”

  “Completely understandable.”

  “You know, I didn’t even think about this until just now.” He paused.

  “Think about…?”

  “Um, well, about six months ago, I found out that my wife had been seeing someone. She ended it after I found out, and we were working through it. We started marriage counseling a few months back. Things were starting to get back on track with us, but I guess the guy took it hard.”

  If he’d had any thoughts that it could have been an ex-boyfriend, those would have been the first words out of his mouth. He was trying to cast suspicion away from himself.

  “Do you know the man’s name?” I asked.

  “His name is Kevin. I think his last name was Moore. I’m not a hundred percent. He was a coworker of hers, but I guess he no longer works there.”

  “Is this guy local?”

  “I believe so.”

  I wrote the name down. “We’re going to get on that right away. Have you seen this guy in person before?”

  “Once, yes.”

  “Okay, because if we pick him up, we’ll need you to identify him as the guy she was having a relationship with.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. So, if you’re driving back, what time do you think you’ll be able to come in tomorrow?”

  “I should be able to be there by noon.”

  “Great. It’s the police headquarters downtown on Franklin. Just ask for Lieutenant Kane at the front.”

  “I will.”

  “All right. Drive safe, Mr. Riaola.” I hung up and placed the phone back in its base. Hank knocked on the sill of my office door and walked in.

  “Updates?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I just got off the phone with the husband.”

  “And?”

  “He says he will be in to talk tomorrow at noon. I would guess he’ll be accompanied by an attorney, or no-show.”

  “Attorney or no-show? Why is that?” Hank asked.

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Do you think he’s involved?”

  “Yup. He also mentioned a possible ex-boyfriend—that was only after I asked about his whereabouts, though. I got the boyfriend’s name here. I’ll check him out either way.”

  “Boyfriend? I thought these two were married.”

  “The deceased woman had been stepping out, apparently,” I said.

  “So the plot thickens, I guess.” Hank walked in and planted himself across my desk from me.

  “I’d rather it didn’t. It would be nice to not have anything outstanding when I leave,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of everything while you’re gone. So, Wisconsin and then California, huh?”

  “That’s the plan. We decided to get the whole meet-each-other’s-family thing out of the way before she’s too far along in the pregnancy. That, and she figures she can get a semester of school down and finished before the baby arrives—her classes start in two weeks. She gets to meet my family, I get to meet hers, and then back to normal.”

  “How do you feel about meeting her parents?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “You and her parents will probably have a lot in common—you know, being close to the same age and all.” Hank smiled ear to ear, pleased with his zinger.

  “Good one.”

  “Thanks, I’ve been saving that one. Anyway, you said you had dinner reservations tonight, hey?”

  I nodded. “Mulberry Chop House at seven thirty was the plan.” I glanced at the clock—it read twenty after five. “Which isn’t going to happen now. I’ll have to call Callie and see if we can get our reservations pushed back.”

  “You’re not trying to hunt down this ex-boyfriend tonight, are you?”

  “I at least need to make contact and get his whereabouts.”

  “Let me get the ex-boyfriend’s name. I’ll shake the guy’s tree.”

  “I got it, Hank.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You go have your dinner with the missus. Karen is still in Virginia, so I have nothing going on.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Positive.” Hank gestured for me to give him the guy’s information.

  I ripped the page from my notebook and slid it over.

  Hank snatched it from me and rocked back in his chair. “Ah, these things are nice,” he said.

  “Yeah, great Christmas present. You buy me new guest chairs for my office, that only you sit in.”

  “Well, Christmas is the season of giving. Plus, I think they add to the room.”

  “Oh yeah, they really tie the file boxes together nicely. I noticed you took the old chairs. What did you do with them?”

  “I took them to the range.”

  I smirked.

  “Did you talk with the forensics guys?” he asked.

  “I haven’t heard anything yet. I was going to walk downstairs before I left and see what they came up with.”

  “What time are you coming in tomorrow morning?” Hank asked.

  “Probably eight.”

  “Okay.” Hank stood. “I’ll call you tonight and let you know what I get on the ex-boyfriend.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Hank left my office.

  I looked over my notes and dialed Nick Waterman, my contact at the airport. He answered in a couple rings.

  “Nick Waterman.”

  “Hi, Nick. It’s Kane.”


  “Yeah, Kane. What’s up?”

  “I need two things. First, if I was in Atlanta right now and needed an immediate flight back to Tampa, how am I looking?”

  “Well, let’s have a look-see.”

  I heard him clicking away at the computer.

  “Hmm. You’d be up a creek right now. The next flight out leaves in a half hour, but wouldn’t get you into the TPA here until tomorrow at four p.m.”

  “Four? Really?” I asked.

  “Yup.”

  I ran my hand across the couple-day-old stubble on the top of my head. “Is there a way you could check a little earlier today by a few hours?”

  “Sure.”

  I heard keys being clicked again.

  “The last direct flight was a little after noon. There was one at twelve thirty-six p.m. that would have got you here this evening after a stop in Miami, but that’s it,” Waterman said.

  I checked it off on my notepad. “Okay. What can you get me on rental cars?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The guy I’m looking into said he already had a rental car. My guess is that he got it from the Atlanta airport.”

  “Um, I can make a few calls and see what I can find. What exactly do you need to know?”

  “I need to know the company it gets returned to in Tampa so I can get the mileage. Also, check and see if they GPS track their vehicles.”

  “I’ll check it out and let you know.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  “No problem.”

  I gave him Charles Riaola’s information and hung up. As I thought about the rental car more, I realized it could be promising. I wouldn’t get anything on it until the morning, though—the guy still had to drive it back and drop it off before we could get the mileage. I put my computer to sleep and locked up my office.

  I walked into the forensics department on the first floor. Past the stainless tables, I found Pax in one of the labs toward the back. I rapped my knuckles on the glass door and entered. Pax was sitting at a computer. The knives from the homicide lay in evidence bags on a table at the center of the room.

  Pax pushed himself away from the computer on his rolling chair. “Hey, Lieutenant.”

  “Getting anything?” I asked.

  “Well, we got two different sets of prints from the house. I ran both sets in IAFIS—no hits on either. Ed is sending me over the deceased woman’s prints any second here. The one set of prints I have are significantly smaller than the other. My guess is that they belong to her. No hits on the other, but they were everywhere, so I would say it’s pretty safe to assume they belong to the husband.”