She frowned at the question. "I had broken up with someone probably three or four months before Landon died. It wasn't recent, and it wasn't like I was devastated. It was just one of those relationships that ran its course. We were together about six months before we both realized we didn't have much more in common than the fact that we were both reporters. Jared worked as a sports reporter for a local news station, and he lived and breathed sports on his personal time, too. He bet on games, played all the fantasy teams, hung out at sports bars, and painted his face and chest for playoff games." She shook her head. "It was too much for me. It's not that I don't like sports, but not at that level, and he couldn't talk about anything else. So, we ended it. I really didn't have a broken heart. I don't know why Landon would have thought that."
"Maybe Brooke was just making excuses for why you hadn't heard about her. Perhaps there wasn't that much to hear."
"She had a key to his apartment, so there was something going on between them."
"When you got to the apartment that day, what was she doing? Was she cleaning? Packing up her things? Did she help you go through Landon's belongings?"
She thought back to that horrible day. "I got to the apartment around five. Brooke was packing some stuff in a duffel bag. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was taking. She said she couldn't bear to stay there after what had happened. We talked a little, but we both kept breaking down. She finally left, and I spent the night on Landon's couch, thinking it was all a horrible nightmare."
He frowned. "Okay. That's enough. We don't have to keep talking about this now."
"If it helps you to understand, then I'll talk about whatever you want. As for Brooke, I don't know that I trust or believe anything she said, including her description of their relationship. She and Landon seem so different. I don't even see how they got together."
"She's a beautiful woman. I can't imagine any young man not being flattered by her attention. Maybe she was part of the frat's plan to loosen Landon up, distract him, get him to let down his guard. Love or lust can be blinding, especially when you're twenty. If the frat wanted something from Landon, maybe Brooke was their way in."
"That makes sense, but how can we prove it? Do we talk to Brooke again?"
"At some point. I want to keep moving around the circle. We don't want any one person to think they're the sole target of the investigation. Better to make everyone a little nervous."
"Out of the fraternity group, we haven't talked to Drew Sanderson yet. Or Josh Lorrie or Brian Covington."
"We also haven't talked to the professor that Landon worked for."
"That was Justin Harrington." She paused. "There's also the dean, who shut down the investigation. His name is Robert Haas. He was of absolutely no help to me. In fact, I thought he was rather rude. And then there's the former deputy police chief turned senator, Alan Matson. Can you talk to your former partner about him? She seems to know him."
"I will if that makes sense."
"What about Sabrina's contact referral—Anthony Devray?" she asked. "You said his phone was disconnected. Is there any other way to find him?"
"Maybe."
"There's a lot to do. And what we've done up to now hasn't gotten us very far."
"We've gotten far enough to make people nervous. And nervous people make mistakes."
"I hope that mistake happens soon. We need a break."
Matt's phone buzzed. "This is my team. Hopefully, we just got one."
ChapterFourteen
"Jason, what do you have? Did you find who broke into Haley's apartment?" He put the phone on speaker so Haley could hear the update. She was right in the middle of everything and could possibly help with any questions that might arise.
"Not yet. Derek is still working on that. But we just got results back on the compound injected into Sabrina's body," Jason replied. "It was a modified neurotoxin with two synthetic stabilizers not available in commercial production. We matched one of the agents to a restricted chemical manufactured by a research-grade compounding lab in Pasadena."
"And the buyer?" he asked, excitement running through him.
"We were able to match plates on a vehicle seen at the lab the day before Sabrina was shot with a vehicle seen exiting the park. The car had fake plates, but we were able to get facial recognition on an ex-Army lieutenant, Gareth Pike, who was dishonorably discharged last year and now resides in Pasadena."
"Do you have Pike in custody?"
"No. He's dead. Overdose—probably staged. No phone, no wallet, no computers at the scene."
He let out a heavy breath as disappointment ran through him. "Someone’s covering their tracks."
"It looks that way. Gareth Pike was a hothead and a drug addict. But he was a skilled marksman, and it's clear he was hired to do a job. We're digging into Pike's life, see if we can find a contract."
"Good. Now, didn't you say there's an event at your golf club tomorrow? Haley and I shook some of the Westbridge grads up today at the charity event, but we didn't meet with everyone. I'm especially interested in Drew Sanderson."
