Page 22 of Colton's Second Chance
“I’m as anxious to wrap this case up as you are, but we don’t need to get sloppy in our haste.”
“I hear you. I get it. And I know cases like this can take years to solve sometimes, but…” Asher sighed. “I just have this pit in my gut when I think about the women of the community who could be his next victims. I mean, how would you feel if your sister or Kansas were the guy’s next victim?”
Eli’s hand balled into a fist, and nausea sawed in his gut. “I’d want to eviscerate the guy, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to be methodical and precise in our investigation. We have to get every step right, so that when we catch him—when, not if—the court doesn’t have any reason to throw the case out. We have to get things absolutely right.”
Something was wrong.
Noelle stared at the spreadsheet on her screen and double-checked that she’d entered all the variables correctly. She’d spent hours with the case files and documentation of forensic evidence, and her program was churning out consistently different results than Eli and his team came up with in key aspects of the investigation. She had to be missing something. She must have forgotten some piece of data, not accounted for some element of the forensic process or overlooked somedetail of investigative case handling that would account for the discrepancies.
She sighed and gritted her teeth. She’d wanted to give Eli her findings today, but her eyes were so tired, they were virtually crossing. Fatigue didn’t lend itself to careful and accurate work. Maybe she could just take a short nap. She’d been up late last night inputting data, then was back at the laptop early. She didn’t function well on three hours of sleep.
Rubbing the kinks in her neck, she strolled to her kitchenette and fixed herself another cup of tea. Spotting an unopened yogurt on the counter, she realized she’d gotten so distracted by the case files this morning, she’d never eaten breakfast, either. Tossing the probably-now-spoiled yogurt in the trash, she grabbed the last banana from the small fruit basket she’d stocked earlier in the week and made a mental note to go shopping again. When she’d gotten groceries before, she hadn’t thought she’d still be in town this long. Now it seemed it could be several more days before Allison’s funeral happened and Noelle’s part in helping Eli with the case was resolved. She refused to return to Seattle before she had closure on both matters.
And what about her past with Eli? Would she be able to find closure there?All he wants is the truth. He deserves that.
If only the truth weren’t so painful, so…shameful. So humiliating.
Her cell phone rang, shaking her from her personal pity party, and she tensed. Expecting the call to be Eli, wanting an update, she checked the caller ID reluctantly. Instead, the funeral home’s number glowed from her screen, and she answered, praying this meant the funeral could proceed.
“Ms. Harris, I just wanted to confirm the changes you’ve requested regarding the service for your sister.” The man sounded rattled, distressed even.
Confused, Noelle rubbed her dry and tired eyes. “Changes? What changes?”
But it clicked, just as the funeral director began his explanation, “The change in burial site and memorial service location.”
Anger flashed hot in her blood. “Were these changes, by any chance, requested by Clyde or Jean Gates?”
She heard the rustle of paper, a murmur of voices.
“Why, yes. Mrs. Jean Gates of Anchorage. She’s here now, asking for these changes.” The man’s voice quavered with stress. Aunt Jean did that to people.
Noelle took a breath, striving for calm. “Please put all of my original plans back in force. Jean Gates is not authorized to make any alterations to the funeral. She’s a disgruntled family member who has no legal authority in this matter.”
“Oh I, uh…apologize. I wasn’t aware.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Gates ripped up the contract you signed with us. In order to reinstate your funeral arrangements, we need you to come by the office and sign a new contract.”
Despite her irritation with Aunt Jean, Noelle felt sorry for the funeral home owner. She could hear her aunt in the background, arguing vociferously.
“Can’t you email me a link to sign electronically?” Noelle asked, realizing almost as soon as the words left her mouth what the answer would be. When she’d been at the family-run funeral home last week making the initial arrangements, the owner, an elderly gentleman, had handwritten everything in their meeting, and the only computer she remembered seeing was a clunky desktop with a huge monitor that looked like it had been on the office desk since the 1990s. She wondered if they even had an internet connection.
When the funeral director confirmed her suspicion that she would, in fact, have to drive out to the funeral home again, shesaved the work she was doing on her laptop and promised to be there before he closed the office that afternoon. She grumbled to herself as she gathered her coat, purse and gloves and swapped her comfy slippers for boots.
The winter sun was already low in the sky as she climbed in her rental car and backed out of her hostel’s parking spot. She set the car’s GPS navigator with the funeral home’s address, letting her thoughts drift as she drove.
While she’d known returning to Alaska would bring a harsh reminder of all she’d escaped when she left for college, she hated having to deal with Aunt Jean on top of the painful reunion with Eli. Going back to her lonely apartment in Seattle and her routine fact-crunching job was starting to sound pretty good—if not for the tiny detail of how much she’d miss Eli.
Eli.
When Noelle returned from her errand, she’d have to notify Eli of the perplexing inconsistencies she was finding with her analysis. How would he take the news that she’d found glaring problems with the case data?
She sighed as she pulled onto the two-lane highway that bypassed the busiest parts of Shelby and was far more scenic. She turned on her headlights as she entered a stretch of road that was shaded on both sides by tall pines. The road grew curvier as it passed through the foothills of the nearby mountain range, and she tapped her brakes to slow the car before navigating an especially tight turn.
The brake pedal felt mushy to her, giving little resistance, and the car didn’t slow nearly as much as it should have. Her pulse spiked as the rental car took the curve too fast, and she drifted into the oncoming traffic lane. Trembling with the rush of adrenaline, Noelle stepped on the brakes again, heard a squealing sound from under the hood. She gasped as the pedal went all the way to the floor without the car slowing.
Noelle’s breath came in short, shallow pants as she grasped the danger she was in, speeding around mountainous curves and down hills without any way to stop or slow the car. Her hands sweated inside her gloves as she squeezed the steering wheel tighter. She continued to stomp the brakes, despite the lack of response. The twin beams of her headlamps lit only a few dozen feet in front of her, giving her little warning of what turns or obstacles lay ahead.
Could she use her parking brake to slow the car? Grasping the stick lever of the emergency brake, she pulled it up slowly. Her efforts earned her a grinding noise and a hot smell, but the rental car did seem to be slowing. She’d just released a sigh of relief when an elk doe stepped into the road from the shadowy shoulder.
With a shriek of surprise and dread, Noelle cut the wheel hard to the right, and the rental car bumped off the road. In quick succession, the headlights illuminated dirty snow drifts, weeds and a thatch of seedlings before a large pine trunk loomed before her. Instinctively, she braced her arms against the steering wheel. The airbag exploded, dousing her with powder as it smacked her in the face and chest.
