Page 19 of Operation: Sharp Angel

“Maybe he realized what he’d done and was so distraught he collapsed to the floor before killing himself,” Brielle said.

“Shep, there’s a lot at that house that doesn’t make sense, including that location to kill himself, unless Brielle is right that he was so distraught that he just collapsed there. If not, Tessman and I can’t figure out why he killed himself there. And the place was cleaned, like vacuumed and sinks wiped,” Jackson said. “Our client said her sister had a solid bedtime routine for her kids. They would have brushed their teeth before bed, but the bathroom showed no indication they had. The sink bowls were wiped clean.”

“There was no slide bite on the webbing between Nick DeSoto’s thumb and index finger. If he was an inexperienced shooter, I’d anticipate in the heat of the moment he would have gripped the weapon incorrectly at least once,” Tessman said.

“Another item that is noteworthy is that our client stated that her sister had a glass of wine after the kids were in bed every night. Not only was there no used wine glass anywhere in the house, not even in the sink, but there was no wine in her stomach contents. So, whatever happened in that house,happened right after the kids were put to bed, before she had the chance to pour her wine,” Jackson said.

“What else?” Shepherd pressed.

“None of the neighbors heard anything that night besides the thunderstorm,” Tessman said. They’d interviewed all the neighbors the previous day. “That’s bothering me. I don’t care how bad a thunderstorm is, the sound of a gunshot is distinctive and loud, louder than thunder. The neighbors may have dismissed one loud sound as intense thunder, but five?”

“Brielle, get a hold of the recorded lightning strikes and the decibel level of the thunder in the area that night from the weather service,” Shepherd said.

“I’ll get that data right after this meeting,” Brielle acknowledged.

“If Nick DeSoto wasn’t the shooter, a suppressor could have helped to hide the murders from the neighbors amid the thunder, but that’s a hell of a stretch that the murder was planned and held off until a thunderstorm was raging,” Shepherd said.

“Shows a great deal of patience by the murderer,” Jackson agreed. “Even if it was Nick DeSoto.”

“And what about inside the house?” Tessman asked. “If the police’s timeline is accurate and the two kids were killed in their beds first, Nicole DeSoto would not have thought the shots that killed the children were thunder. Even with a suppressor, the gunshots still would have been too loud inside the house.”

“We have more questions than answers,” Shepherd said.

“You spoke with Detective Davis when he dropped off the laptops and phones,” Jackson said to Shepherd.

“Yes, they didn’t find anything noteworthy, but Brielle is still looking at them. I asked if he could provide us with the forensic report from the crime lab,” Shepherd said. “That way we can ask questions about what we already know without them suspectingthe info was leaked to us. Davis is a good cop. He did admit there were a few inconsistencies that bothered him about this case, but he wouldn’t elaborate on what they were. He’s plowed under with the six other cases on his plate, including the politician’s murder, which he admitted has the brass all the way up to the mayor putting a lot of pressure on him to solve. The one thing he did say was that they couldn’t come up with a motive for anyone outside of the family.”

“Speaking of family, Brielle, did you track down either of Nick DeSoto’s siblings?” Tessman asked.

“No. I lost his brother, David DeSoto, six years ago when he was released from a prison in Florida after serving two years out of the five he was sentenced to for drug charges.”

“And the sister?” Tessman asked.

“Nothing. She’s been completely off the grid for nearly ten years.”

“So, she’s not in jail someplace?” Jackson asked.

“No, neither of his siblings are currently the guests of any state or federal jail or prison,” Brielle answered. “And there are no reports of their deaths, either.”

“Okay, keep asking questions. You haven’t visited Well-Life Pharmaceuticals yet. Make that your next stop,” Shepherd said. “Keep me informed of your progress.”

Everyone came to their feet, knowing this meeting was over.

Foxtrot

Becca had put off the inevitable long enough. The crime scene cleanup crew had removed all traces of the violence that took place in her sister’s house. It now waited for her to clean it out of all the important documents, the family pictures, and the priceless keepsakes of their lives, before she donated the home to the crisis center. She purchased ten large totes to start with. Though she knew she’d need many more. She would start by just boxing the important things up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go through the items yet. Not only would that be time-consuming, but it would also be very taxing, emotionally, and she knew she was not up for it yet.

Becca also knew that she’d have to go back to work full time soon. That was another inevitable she’d been putting off. The thing was, she wasn’t emotionally ready for that either. She’d put in a few hours a day from home, answering emails from clients and communicating with the partners regarding issues she was handling from home. So far, the law firm she worked for wasn’t demanding she return to the office. The partners had been verysupportive of her need to take time off both after her sister’s family was discovered dead and to settle her sister and brother-in-law’s affairs. They seemed fine with the part-time, at-home approach she brought to the job. The partners had also been supportive when her parents had died the year before. But she didn’t want to take advantage of their kindness.

She drove to her sister’s home, arriving just after noon. She’d arranged with the dealership that they would meet her there to pick up her car as she’d received a recall notice and the anticipated time to correct the issue was over five hours. They were supposed to drop a loaner off to her, but when they arrived, somehow, the promised car was not delivered.

“No problem,” Becca told them as she handed her car keys over. “I’ll be busy here all day and into the evening. Just give me a call and drop it back off when you’ve completed the work.” This would force her into putting in a full day packing things up at her sister’s house. She’d already unloaded the two stacks of five large bins and lids, placing them in the house.

She’d eaten lunch before coming over, after putting in a few hours of working on a client’s will at home. And if she remained at the house past dinnertime, she knew there was ample food and beverages in her sister’s house. That would be her next task before turning the house over to the crisis center. Once she’d cleared out the important personal and family items, she’d have to go through the refrigerator and throw away the expired food. She’d leave the rest.

She started in the family room, boxing up pictures and other personal items. That didn’t take long. She moved to the kitchen. Even though the mess on the floor and cabinets had been cleaned up, she knew the space between the cabinets and the island was where Nicole was killed. She struggled to keep the images of her sister running for her life from her thoughts.

She pulled the items from the junk drawer, glancing to be sure there was nothing important in the contents. She piled them into the box. Then she moved all the papers from the counter’s edge to the far side of the island to go through them. This was the spot Nicole would drop the daily mail until she could go through it later. Becca knew the most recent bills were probably here, bills she’d pay to settle their estate.

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