Page 73 of Water's Edge

“I’ll give Ronnie the case number if that’s okay.” I may just make out an incident report with me as the person reporting. That way, if there’s a hit, they’ll come directly to me.

“Fine with me,” Marley says. “I’ll have the results ready for Ronnie in the morning.”

I disconnect the call and sit on the edge of my bed. Alex Rader raped all the women he kidnapped. But Alex’s DNA would not be in the database because he was a cop. Well, it would be in the DNA database now since I’d left his body to be discovered with evidence of the other kidnappings and rapes he committed. I rescued my mother from those monsters and there’s no telling how many future victims were saved.

It’s late, or early, and I have to be at work soon to make up some kind of report for Marley. I think it’s important that Ronnie visit the crime lab to maintain the good relations I’ve built with the lab supervisor.

She’s useful and I admit to myself that I’m beginning to like her.

Thirty-Six

I wake at 6:00 and rush through my morning routine: shower, blow dry, brush my teeth and hair, put on lipstick and eye makeup. Luckily I don’t have to select clothes. Several sets of the same thing hang in my closet, so I just grab one set and put it on. I lace up my boots and look for my gun in the lockbox. For a moment I panic: the box is empty.I put it under my pillow.I slide it into my shoulder holster. I take my car keys and my purse and I’m on the road. I pull into the Sheriff’s parking lot by 6:30. I can do that because I don’t have to worry about being stopped or ticketed.

I’m a cop.

Enough said.

I see Sheriff Gray is already in. I also see Ronnie’s Smart car.

Nan waylays me when I walk into the office.

“These must have come in last night,” she says, handing me a stack of papers. “I got them off the printer this morning. They look important.”

She stands there, waiting for me to say something or give her a tip. I take the papers. They’re from Marley at the lab.

“Thanks,” I say. “Is the sheriff busy?”

Nan looks disappointed that I don’t tell her what the lab results are. She’s the last person I would tell, with her foghorn mouth.

“Reserve Deputy Marsh is in with him.”

She says this like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. I think it’s perhaps because he relied so much on Nan in the past and now Ronnie is taking her place. Or trying to. I go to his door, knock, and enter. Ronnie’s in street clothes today.

“Megan,” he says, looking up. “Ronnie was just telling me about your meeting yesterday in Kitsap.”

“You have my report,” I say. I wonder if Ronnie’s account contradicts anything I put in it. Namely, that I had Cass get DNA samples from Bohleber and Truitt.

“And she tells me they have a Rapid DNA machine now.”

Ronnie speaks up. “Actually, they’ve had it for over six months, Tony.”

Tony? What the…?

“I saw the DNA results on the printer and put them on your desk,” Sheriff Gray says.

So Nandidn’tfind them on the printer. She must have been reading them and made an excuse for looking at them. It’s not her job, but it is her MO.

“I have them right here, Sheriff,” I say. “I got a call from Marley last night and we went over this briefly. I need Ronnie to go there this morning and talk to Marley. I have some paperwork for him, and he promised to have a more complete report on the DNA comparisons.”

“Sure,” he says. “I think he’s taken quite a shine to our Ronnie here.”

Our Ronnie?

I don’t tell him I’ve instigated the infatuation just slightly. Okay, shamelessly. I hate to admit it, but I’ve taken a liking to her too. She can be frustratingly chatty sometimes, but she apparently kept the surreptitious way I obtained the DNA samples to herself. I appreciate that. It will keep the sheriff from knowing I’ve violated big-shit Truitt’s privacy. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Even Marley doesn’t know who the samples belong to.

“I’m—weare finally getting some traction here. Sheriff. The Clallam case is an unknown right now and we can’t identify a suspect. The DNA from their case is messed up, so we can’t connect it to the other, but we can connect Kitsap’s with ours. I was a little surprised that Dr. Andrade didn’t put much faith in the rape kit.”

“No one’s perfect, Megan,” he says.

---