“Well, I don’t think there’s going to be any that take us to our killer. No luck with that so far. I think it’s safe to assume the killer wore gloves.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right, but they might lift Claire’s prints, prove our theory.” She tried to recreate the minutes before Claire’s death. She ran through her mind their earlier notion about Claire letting herself in. There were at least two flaws with it. One, it didn’t explain the lingerie. “We theorized the killer dressed Claire in the lingerie. It’s occurring to me now that if that was the case, how did he or she know her size?”
“Good point, and where did they get it?”
“Uh-huh. I’m going to inquire about the piece, see if there’s anything special about it. Maybe we can track the buyer.”
“If the killer knew Claire’s size, we’re looking at someone close to her.”
Amanda went cold. “It sure seems to indicate that.” Of course, that theory hinged on their speculation that Claire didn’t bring it herself for a romantic rendezvous with Logan. It suggested the killer—someone other than Logan—thought they’d use it to muddy the scene. She’d let that line of thought go and returned to the other hole in the theory about Claire coming on her own first. “We talked about Claire arriving ahead of the killer, that she found the hide-a-key and let herself in, but that wouldn’t explain why the key wasn’t in her things. Wait, there was a brass key.”
Trent shook his head. “It was described as being small, like something for a chest.”
“So then, the killer took the key to Logan’s house? Why?”
“No clue why they would.”
“Well… if the killer didn’t take it and it wasn’t in Claire’s things, then it’s in this house some— Oh, I know where.” She rushed from the room toward the front door. In her house, she had a table with a bowl on it to catch her keys and whatever else she felt like tossing in there when she came home. Logan had a similar setup, but she didn’t remember seeing a key. It could be that investigators collected it for whatever purpose.
But unlike her hall table, Logan’s had three narrow drawers. She opened each one while thinking it would be strange for Claire to slip it into one. But maybe she wasn’t a fan of the bowl or clutter? Her toiletries had been laid out neatly in her hotel bathroom. On the last drawer, she exclaimed, “Bingo.” Inside was a single key. She took a quick picture of it with her phone, then snapped on gloves and picked it up. “Want to bet that it fits the front door?”
Trent gestured for her to try it. She did, and it fit like Cinderella’s slipper.
“Let’s say Claire let herself in, why put the key in the drawer, not a pocket to access quickly on the way out?”
“Habit?” That’s all that came to Amanda’s mind. “We might never know, just like why or how she ended up here. If on her own at first, maybe she wanted to feel close to him, build up her courage to see him face to face. As we talked about before with her dying from cancer, she might have wanted to clear the air between them.”
“She probably had a reason to be nervous about facing Logan. If I were him, I’d be pissed with her.”
“Sure, but he loves her. Can’t help how you feel.”
He met her gaze. “No you can’t.”
Her stomach fluttered. “We should go. I think we’ve got enough for now.”
“Me too.”
She put the key into an evidence bag that she got from a case in the trunk of the department car. She handed it over to the officer outside, made sure that a note of their visit was logged, and that the door would be sealed again. But not until he took the lamp in for evidence.
“Back to the station to watch the hotel video?” Trent said as he got behind the wheel, and she loaded onto the passenger seat.
The clock on the dash told her it was almost eight o’clock. They had hours of video to watch, and there would be more steps to follow from there. Not everything could get done tonight. “We’ve had a productive day. I say we call it. Start tomorrow at eight thirty, and see what answers we can get. I’d also like to know who called Claire at the hotel.”
“Oh, let me google the number now.” He pulled out his notepad and his phone, pecked the numbers into a Google search. “Bernstein at Law.”
“A law firm,” she said, though it was unnecessary. “Why?”
“To be continued tomorrow. Pleasant dreams.” He smiled at her.
She laughed. Just as she’d thought, this case wouldn’t be a quick one to solve. They’d likely be spinning for days yet. “Okay. Holding you to it.”
“Fine by me.” He put the car in gear and took them in the direction of the station where they’d get their own vehicles and head home.
Not that she’d be getting any sleep tonight. Why was Claire in contact with a law firm?
SEVENTEEN
Claire had led a secret life. To Amanda, that was the only thing about this case that seemed like a sure thing. The cash, the gun, the fake name, living off the grid, and now Claire was communicating with a lawyer’s office. And it also couldn’t be overlooked that Claire was walking around with a death sentence even before she was murdered. The big C, stalking her and readying to claim another victim itself. Claire could have just reached a lawyer to set her affairs in order. But what affairs did she have? Factoring in that private investigators couldn’t find her, it could be assumed that she’d lived a rather nomadic lifestyle, bouncing around and never staying in one place for long.
