Page 30 of Last Seen Alive
She hung up, and Trent was watching her. “I suggest our initial steps need to be familiarizing ourselves with the autopsy report and the crime scene,” she said. “Also what the canvassing officers in Logan’s neighborhood might have found.”
“Good idea.”
They started with a quick look at the officers’ notes, but nothing struck as immediately useful.
She ended up wheeling her chair beside Trent’s when they’d finished with them. He brought up the autopsy findings compiled by Hans Rideout, one of Amanda’s favorite medical examiners from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Manassas. Cause of death was as expected. Gunshot wound direct to the heart. Death would have been instant.
“The heart,” Trent mumbled. “Whenever that happens, I wonder if the killer is sending a message. Is it indicative of a romantic relationship between them and the victim?”
“I think it’s possible to read too much into it. A shot to the heart is also a surefire way to successfully kill someone quick.”
“True enough, but look at this.” Trent pointed at the screen. “This is interesting. The victim’s lymphatic system was full of cancer. Rideout noted that if it wasn’t the bullet, cancer would have killed her soon.”
“Wow.” Amanda let that news sink in. Running with the victim being Claire Hunter, was it her terminal diagnosis that had her returning to Dumfries after all these years? She shared her thinking with Trent. “She may have wanted to see Logan and make amends.”
“Possible, but just a guess. Her being in Logan’s house, or even back in Dumfries, doesn’t confirm for me that Claire was going for any sort of soul-cleansing or reconciliation. And she might not have known about the cancer.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I love it when you say that.” Trent gave her a bright smile that touched his eyes. Then he turned to the monitor. “Rideout didn’t note any signs of self-defense or epithelium under her nails, nothing like that. No sign of intercourse either. But there was a contusion on her forehead. Based on its coloration, Rideout noted it would have happened right around time of death. It’s unclear whether she was hit with an object or fist.”
“Okay, she was struck, but who gets hit and doesn’t fight back?” Her mind went to the latest news—Claire’s prints on Logan’s gun along with his. Had there been a struggle for the gun, after all? “I don’t recall the crime scene showing anything to indicate a struggle. You? You were there longer.”
“No.”
“So what? She was hit in surprise and possibly knocked out from the blow? Where was Claire struck?”
“Her temple.”
“Hit there hard enough, and it’s possible she might have passed out. Bring up the photos of the crime scene.”
Trent did as she asked. They shuffled through photo after photo.
Amanda sat back in her chair. She was hunting for something to prove her suspicion—that Logan was set up. Nothing was standing out until— A photo snapped from the end of the room, looking toward the bed’s headboard and the nightstand. The woman’s clothing could be seen in a heap on the floor.One large heap.“Look at that,” she said pointing it out.
“What about it?”
“If she took the time to put on lingerie, is she going to leave her street clothes lying around like that? Why not put them somewhere out of sight?”
“Might not mean anything.”
“And it might. The evidence against Logan is too convenient—his house, his wife, his gun, his ammo. What if the killer also dressed Claire in the lingerie?”
“Not sure how we’d go about proving that.”
“All right…” She had it straight in her head; it was just talking about such things with Trent that was uncomfortable. “Let’s say that Logan and Claire were reunited. Years had passed, but they still had feelings for each other. Hence, she was wearing her ring. But things between them would be heated. They’ve just been reunited, sparks are flying, clothes are being ripped off in a trail to the bedroom.” Her cheeks heated as her words struck close to her own truth—the way Friday night was headed before the dead woman.
“I can sort of get what you’re saying.” He was peering into her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably. “Now, you might not want to hear this, but maybe Logan is lying, and they’ve been together for a while. They already did the whole ‘rip the clothes off’ thing. The night she was shot, maybe they took their time, made it romantic.”
If her cheeks burned any hotter, they might catch fire. Giving his counter-argument credit would blow up her theory but she wasn’t ready to relinquish her grip on it yet. “Maybe there isn’t proof, then, basing it on lingerie,butit still seems odd she’d be dressed that way. It’s indicative of a romantic evening, but then Logan shoots her? Why?”
“A man’s pride can be a fragile thing. Claire would have deeply hurt Logan. Let’s say she returns, and they reconcile. His hurt is still festering beneath the surface…”
“No, I’m not seeing that. I believe the killer staged things to make it look like a romantic liaison. They gave the police what they wanted them to see—a domestic affair that turned dark.” She pointed to the screen, anything to direct Trent’s focus off her. His gaze eventually broke from hers and followed the direction of her finger. “I think the killer did a good job.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but you want to know what stood out to me at the scene?”
“You know I do.”
