Page 144 of The Last Close Call

Bryan opened the file and slid it in front of Evie. He watched her face as she looked down at the eight-by-ten crime scene photograph showing a silver locket displayed atop a blue tarp. A metal ruler had been positioned beside the locket for scale.

She stared down at it, not moving or even blinking.

“Is it yours?” he asked, although he could see the answer on her face.

She gave a slight nod, still not taking her eyes off the photo.

“I hate that he touched it,” she whispered.

“I understand.”

“Is there a picture of the inside?”

Bryan slid the photograph behind the second one in the stack. This one was a close-up showing the locket open.

She frowned. “Where’s Bella’s picture?”

“This is how we found it. It was empty.”

Her gaze jumped to his. “He took out her picture?”

“Presumably.”

She winced and looked away.

Bryan closed the folder. The missing picture was one reason he’d needed confirmation from Evie that this was her necklace. But now he wished he’d found a better way to go about this.

She opened the folder again and flipped back to the first photograph. She gazed down at it, shaking her head. Then she slid it back.

“Well, that’s it.” She sighed. “It’s really him.”

“You thought we had the wrong guy?”

“No.” She glanced at him. “I mean, maybe part of me. You can’t imagine the crazy stuff that goes through my mind in the middle of the night. But that’s conclusive enough for me.”

From Bryan’s perspective, the DNA match was conclusive enough. Not to mention the size twelve Adidas sneakers they had found in his closet that would no doubt eventually be determined to match the footprints found in Evie’s backyard. Combined with all the items in the toolbox, the physical evidence against Will Anderson was overwhelming. Any trial would be a slam dunk, and he would be lucky to get a plea to avoid death row.

Of all the cases Bryan had worked, this one deserved the death penalty. But he knew how the system worked, and he could live with prospect of Will Anderson spending the rest of his life in prison—which was where his biological father should have ended up, too.

Bryan’s chest tightened with frustration as he sat there in Evie’s kitchen thinking about the many people WCR had hurt or killed. Will Anderson had caused so much damage that would last a lifetime. And meanwhile, the man whose cruel act had set everything in motion had suffered for only a moment.

But at least Brett Leary couldn’t add to his list of victims. Joy Kendall had seen to that.

Bryan closed the folder. “Thanks for taking a look. We appreciate the confirmation.”

“Thank you.” She covered his hand with hers. “Seeing this helps.”

Her hand was warm and light on his, but she pulled it away and tucked it in her lap.

Bryan looked at her, not knowing what to make of the gesture. But he knew he needed to go.

He got up from the stool and she did, too. He picked up his file and walked to the door.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. Us.” He turned to look at her. “Detective Lasco has some resources she can put you in touch with. Counseling, support groups, things like that.”

“Yes, she told me.”

“That’s good.”

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