Page 5 of The Liar

The victim, possibly Miss Sloane, lay on her back in front of the windows, as if she’d been gazing out of them when she’d been attacked. Her eyes were wide and as green as West’s—nope, not thinking of him. Dark, lush curls fanned over the floor around her head, and her lips were parted, as if in surprise.

A woman in coveralls knelt over the victim, studying the slash across her neck, stretching from ear to ear.

“Cause of death?” I asked.

“Most likely exsanguination caused by sharp force trauma,” Dr. Kelly said, straightening and turning toward us. Her expression softened slightly as we made eye contact. Perhaps she was relieved not to have to deal with Detective Neal. The man was a worse misogynist than Hanson and always treated her as if she were incapable.

Hanson snorted. “No surprise there.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “As for time of death, we won’t know for sure until I’ve done the autopsy, but I would estimate it to be between twelve and twenty-four hours because she’s in full rigor.”

“So, she was probably killed sometime between yesterday evening and this morning,” I mused. Perhaps she’d had a fight with a lover. Although the lack of disturbance to her surroundings didn’t bear that out. If she’d been in an altercation, I would expect things to be knocked over or broken, but nothing seemed amiss.

“Perhaps a boyfriend or husband did it,” Hanson said, his mind traveling down the same road as mine.

Dr. Kelly huffed. “That’s for you to determine. I’ll be sure to confirm whether she had intercourse prior to her death.”

“Of course. Thank you,” I said, then scanned the victim again, noting what I hadn’t before. She wore a black silk robe that was cinched tightly at her waist. Her makeup was perfectly done, her lips painted red, and she had a freshmanicure. A quick glance at her feet revealed a matching pedicure. “By the looks of it, she indeed might have been meeting a lover.”

I’d only dress like this if I wanted to impress someone, but it was possible she’d just wanted to feel nice, and it had nothing to do with romance. Not everyone was as mission-oriented as me.

We spent an hour looking around the apartment but found no obvious leads as to who may have killed her, or why, so we headed back to the station. I should have been mulling over the case, but instead, all I could think about was the way West had held that woman’s hand in the coffee shop.

“I can hear your gears grinding,” Hanson said reluctantly, as if he’d rather not have this conversation but didn’t think he could avoid it.

I looked out the window, so I wouldn’t have to see his facial expression. “If I’m to believe that West wasn’t doing anything wrong, then what else do you think could have been happening?”

“Maybe she was an old friend, or someone he knows who is having a bad day. Holding someone’s hand doesn’t always mean you’re screwing them,” Hanson said.

A puff of breath escaped me. “I know, but it doesn’t sit well with me.”

West wasn’t the type of guy to hide a female friend from me. At least, I hadn’t thought he was. But then, I also hadn’t thought I’d see him holding some woman’s hand in a coffee shop when he was supposed to be at work, so maybe I didn’t know my husband as well as I’d thought.

“Talk to him about it before you do something crazy,” Hanson grumbled, lacking tact as usual. I was sure that, in his eyes, having any kind of emotional response to a man’s bad behavior made a woman “crazy.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. He wasn’t a bad person, he just had some old-fashioned perspectives.

When I didn’t respond, he continued with, “Want me to notify the next of kin?”

I straightened and turned to him. “No, we should do that together.”

It wasn’t fair of me to dump that job on him just because I was wallowing in hurt and confusion.

He scoffed. “Your heart won’t be in it. What kind of message will it send the family if the detectives who deliver the news are distracted?”

I deflated. He had a good point. “Okay. Thank you, Denny.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

That almost made me smile. We’d been partners for three years and he still called me that. But I suppose when you’ve been on the force as long as him, anyone younger than forty could be considered a “kid.”

My phone vibrated and I checked the screen. Immediately, my gut tightened.

West:Order anything you like. I’m not feeling choosy.

Hanson glanced at me. “Is that him?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

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