Page 13 of Operation: Sharp Angel

“Becca, we all agree there is more to look into. We accept your case,” Jackson said.

Then he laid out the fee structure the agency charged. It honestly didn’t matter to her. Finding the truth was what mattered, not what it cost. She didn’t care if Nicole and Nick’s entire estate went to finding out who killed them.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“We’ll do a deep dive into them, bank accounts, social media presence from their own devices once you get them back from the police, which should be soon. Tessman and I will go to their house this afternoon. We’ll talk to other people who knew them, neighbors, coworkers, friends. Give us a couple of days and we’ll be back in touch,” Jackson said.

“I didn’t ask when I’d get their phones and computers back,” Becca admitted.

“We’ll contact Detective Davis and let him know we accepted the case and see if we can get them,” Jackson said.

“There are a lot of papers they took from the office and the safe in the office that I need to settle their estate,” Becca said.

“We can ask Detective Davis about those, too,” Tessman said.

“Did Davis say when the bodies would be released and what are your plans for them?” Jackson asked.

This question caused Becca’s breath to catch in her chest. “Yes, I have to contact the funeral home back about that. They told me to notify them when the coroner has released them.”

“Trust me, I’m not making any judgements of you, but you seem to be handling this very well. I’d be a blubbering mess if my sister and her family were murdered,” Brielle said.

“I’m past tears,” Becca said. “I cried my eyes out; not sure I have any tears left. I think I’ve already gone through the stages of grief a couple of times, and I’m stuck on anger. I’m mad at the police for closing this case and ruling as they did. I’m angry,no make that pissed off that this happened to them. I have nightmares about what happened in that house.”

Brielle reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Becca’s. “I hope we can help make those nightmares go away. I get it. I have a sister I am very close to.”

Becca appreciated her empathy. “Thank you.” Then her gaze swept across the faces of the two men.

“Have you spoken to anyone since they were killed? A mental health professional?” Brielle asked.

“A shrink? No,” Becca said.

“There’s a good one in this building. Dr. Joe Lassiter. If you decide to reach out to him, you can tell him that we’re handling your case,” Brielle said.

“Thank you, I’ll think about it.”

***

Jackson and Tessman drove over to the DeSoto residence. They let themselves in with the key Becca had given them. Even though the bodies had been removed, the unmistakable smell of death lingered in the air. They both took a cursory glance at the front door locking mechanism, doorjamb, and door knob. As indicated in the police report, there was no damage or marks to any of them. No one forced their way in through the front.

The footfalls of their boots on the ceramic tiled entry were the only sound in the house. It was eerily silent. Tessman gazed in the direction of the hallway, where he knew from the report that Nick DeSoto’s body was found, still within view of the front door side window. To the right of the entry was the open space of the formal living room. Its windows had light filtering honeycomb blinds. Even though they were lowered, the room was very bright.

They quickly came across the bloodstained section of hardwood flooring where Nick DeSoto had reportedly killed himself. The living room wall behind that area held a large splatter of blood. Tessman took a step around the dried blood on the floor and peered in all directions. From that spot, not only could the front door be seen but also the short hallway to the left that led to the laundry room, which he clearly saw, the garage past it, he assumed, and in front of him the hallway spilled into the kitchen. He saw the island with the remainder of the kitchen behind it, and he knew between the two is where Nicole DeSoto’s body was found.

Tessman turned back around to face Jackson. “Why here? Why kill himself in this spot? If the police are right, he went upstairs and killed his kids first.” He pointed at the staircase, which was on the left side, behind the front door upon entering. “Then he went into the kitchen and killed his wife. Why did he walk back out here and kill himself here? Why not in the kitchen with his wife? Or seated in a chair someplace?”

“Or his office, his own bedroom, or in the bedroom of one of his kids?” Jackson added, nodding his head in agreement.

“Hell, why not in his car in the garage?” Tessman posed. “Why this spot? The only reason I can see is that it is visible from the window beside the front door, so he’d be seen. Had the UPS driver not seen him, it could have been days before they were discovered.”

“That’s a little too thought out for a man who, out of the blue, killed his entire family and then himself,” Jackson said.

The two men proceeded into the kitchen. The blinds on the back of the house were all open and the entire space was bathed in sunlight. Tessman gave the bloodstained ceramic tile, grout, and blood-splattered white cabinets a glance that lay between the island and the kitchen counters where he knew Nicole Desoto died. He bypassed the area and stepped over to the largesliding glass door at the far end of the room. Jackson stopped and was examining the dried bloody mess.

“Nice backyard,” Tessman said, viewing the jungle gym and swings. “I looked at an aerial view and noticed there were no neighbors behind them. This property backs up to a nature preserve. Anyone could have approached from back there and no one would have seen them.” Then he examined the lock and handle on the sliding door. He unlocked it and stepped outside. There, he examined the entire frame. No scratches or dents. Nothing to indicate the door had been jimmied. “This door hasn’t been forced open.”

“There’s blood splatter on the counter. The police forensic unit reported it to support their supposition that Nicole DeSoto ran through the space between the island and the counter and was shot in the back as she fled. Once she was on the ground, she was shot in the head.” His gaze went to the open arched doorway that let into the formal dining room on the far kitchen wall. “She was heading towards the dining room to get away from the gunman. She’d seen him coming,” deduced Jackson.

“That’s some good shooting for someone who’s never fired a gun before, hit a moving target and then have the aim and balls to take the kill shot to the head.”

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