Page 37 of Daring You

Clutching the crime scene photos to my chest, Taryn and I leave the carnage behind.

Ready to create our own.

* * *

Three hourslater and I’m no closer to giving Altin Yang the hole in the case that he wants, but I’m a whole lot sicker.

I’ve turned the crime scene photos face down at this point, even though Taryn keeps picking them up and studying the pictures, as if the bloodstains can give us a clue.

They don’t.

There’s too much of it to create any sort of pattern.

“Okay, so here’s what we have.” Taryn brushes donut crumbs from her fingers then gets back to her laptop she’s perched at the corner of my L-shaped, gray desk. We’re framed by more gray, carpet-like cubicle walls that always smell funny no matter how much I Febreeze it. The mumblings of other associates are a constant thrum, nobody willing to speak up enough for another team to hear.

“Our defendants are Angel Lopez and Jose Garcia. Rose and Tim Delaney were killed around three in the morning, after being woken by their front door busting open by, it is estimated, three men. There’s only two in custody, though.”

“Yeah,” I say, squinting at the police report I have up on my laptop screen. “But they’re estimating three based on the different heights of the stab wounds, some left-handed, others right-handed…also, there seem to be no restraints used. One must’ve held Tim Delaney back while the other held down Rose, so the third guy could….”

“We can skip over that for now,” Taryn says quietly.

“Right,” I say with relief. “Let’s stick to the background facts. Tim was an FBI informant.”

“Yep.”

“And the drug cartel he was working undercover for figured out who he was. It’s assumed this attack was for punishment. Retribution. Revenge.”

“All those fun things.” Taryn sits back, tapping a bright red nail against the edge of her computer. “Turns out, these defendants are disgusting, and we’re representing them.”

I raise my brows. “Assuming they’re the right ones.”

Taryn glances over. “You really think there’s a possibility they’re innocent?”

Ben’s insults have gotten to me, and it’s as if I’m reiterating my point to him when I say, “Only one set of DNA at the scene. They don’t have to be virgin Marys to be considered innocent of this crime or be properly represented.”

Taryn’s bites her lip like she can’t believe I can be so cavalier, but I pretend I don’t see it. How else does she expect to get ahead in this firm?

I’m trying to find more, holding up papers and crusting my eyes over by staring at my screen, skimming through the facts and sadly coming across no detailed witness interviews. Just the boy’s, and it’s very short.

Ryan Delaney, 4 years old, and mute as a mouse.

At such a young age, it’s hard to imagine he’d have a lot to say even if he were a chatterbox. But I think of Lily and how quickly she’s grasping language at the ripe old age of one-and-a-half. She’s the only baby I can compare him to, since I don’t know children any better than I know cats.

My mind starts doing funny things at the thought of Lily, injecting her into this crime scene. The image has me blinking rapidly and looking away from my monitor.

Then I frown.

“Hey,” I say to Taryn. “Where are pictures of Ryan Delaney?”

She picks up the stack of photos and flips through them. “Huh. None here. Let me check the database.”

I do the same, and we both scroll and study our screens, but come up with nothing about the boy. Literally zilch. No photos, no description of any wounds, if he had any…

“He was found alive, right?” Taryn asks.

“Yeah. The fire department came just in time to pull him out,” I say. “The report says as much. See, right here.” I spin my laptop around and point. “He was found crouched over his mother’s body, barely breathing due do all the smoke inhalation, but conscious. They saved him. Took him to…SIU Hospital. And from there…jeez, where is everything?”

“How can we be without that? He’s a key witness,” Taryn murmurs.

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