Page 43 of Ground Truth

Once again, the crowd opened in front of her and this time closed behind Drake at the back of their train. Outside, the air was fresher as well as quieter and way less tense.

Flint followed Myer to a picnic table off to one side under a shade tree and out of earshot of those still waiting in line to get into the station.

“Are you folks giving away ice cream in there or something?” Drake asked with a grin. “I’ve never seen citizens line up to file into a police station like that before.”

“Kind of. Not ice cream but one-on-ones to listen to their concerns, promising to help where we can. It’s a community policing initiative,” she explained. “Trying to build trust with the citizens in our precinct is an ongoing battle. You two aren’t law enforcement, so you probably don’t know how it is.”

“Guess not,” Flint replied and, sensing their time together would be cut short, changed the subject. “We’re interested in the Ella Belle Reed murder. Until today, we didn’t know she’d been murdered. We knew she’d died.”

“What’s your interest?” Detective Myer asked.

“We think her murder could be related to a case we’re working on,” Drake said. “Maybe we can share intel. Three heads are better than two, and all that.”

“If you’ve seen the news reports on Ella Belle Reed, you know everything we know. We didn’t hold anything back. We would have, of course. But we didn’t find anything worth holding on to,” Myer replied in the weary way of all overworked detectives everywhere.

Even tired and dispirited, she was the kind of woman who always appealed to Flint. Competent, self-reliant, strong. He was liking her more with every passing sentence.

“Our case is not quite so obvious. At the moment we’re approaching it as a missing person,” Flint said.

She raised her eyebrows. “At the moment? You thought it was something else?”

“Initially, the death was declared accidental. But new evidence has come to light and we’re no longer sure,” Flint said, sensing he was already losing her attention.

“Tell me why you think your case is related.”

“We know the cases are related in a broad sense. Because both Ella Belle Reed and our victim, Greta Reed, were married to the same man,” Flint replied easily.

Detective Myer’s eyes opened wider. “I’d say that’s related. I don’t believe in coincidences. I do believe in bad luck, though. Maybe Dr. Reed is just unlucky.”

“Kind of interesting you say that.” Flint ignored the Timpani solo going on in his head. “We were thinking Phillip Reed was exceptionally lucky that night. It’s not every day a doctor can donate seven organs from his dead wife and spend the next two days implanting them in other patients.”

Myer gnawed her lower lip as if she were considering what to leave in, what to leave out. She clasped her hands together.

Flint paused to give her time to volunteer, but when she didn’t, he said, “Nobody local here thought the organ transplanting thing was the least bit odd?”

Myer frowned. “Of course we did. It was beyond odd all the way to flat-out weird. But that alone doesn’t prove Phillip Reed murdered his wife.”

“Or hired it done,” Drake suggested. “The whole home invasion thing was staged. Had to be. Which means Phillip Reed was expecting the guy and probably paid him to kill Ella Belle.”

“And the motive was to give him not only her life insurance but also her organs so he could be both wealthy and a hero of some kind?” Myer’s frown deepened. “You think we’re just local yokels who don’t know what we’re doing, is that it?”

Drake grinned and shook his head. “Hey, to me, y’all are all geniuses. I don’t know nothing about policing or investigating either. Just sayin’.”

“Just sayin’ what, cowboy?” Myer cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, but she smiled. The kind of smile that lit up her whole face.

“We’re not saying anything,” Flint interjected before she stopped smiling. “We’re asking. We assume Atlanta PD ran down all the possibilities and didn’t solve the murder. That’s why the case is still open.”

“Exactly. We were all hands on deck for the Ella Belle Reed case when it happened,” Myer replied. “I’m working out of this local Podunk station today as a favor for a friend. But Atlanta’s got one of the best police departments in the country. You boys should come on board and try it for a while.”

“We’re thinking we can help you. We aren’t tied to Atlanta. We can travel. We’re well funded. We’ve got resources,” Flint explained. “You interested?”

“Of course I am. I want to solve every case on my desk. This one’s no different.”

“So what trace evidence did you find of the intruder?” Flint asked, moving on to specifics, showing he really had no desire to argue with her. Quite the opposite.

Myer shook her head. “Not one thing. His body was covered from head to foot. He didn’t touch anything except the contents of the safe, which he took with him. No fingerprints, no DNA, no blood, no sweat, and the only tears we saw were the ones Ella Belle’s friends and family shed at her funeral.”

Flint acknowledged each of her list of negatives. “So the guy was a pro. Not an amateur. Hired killer.”

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