Page 57 of What We May Be

She wrinkled her nose as she followed him out. “So that’s why you stink.”

“Shut up and drink your coffee,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “No one needs your precaffeinated crazy.”

He wasn’t wrong. As he headed toward the stairs, she entered the conference room, Sean holding the door open for her. “Where’s Trevor headed?” Sean asked, his eyes tracking Trevor across the bullpen floor.

“To shower and change downstairs.”

“Good.” Trevor disappeared down the stairs, and Sean’s attention refocused on her. Or rather the coffees in her hand. “Which one’s Trevor’s?”

She lifted the left one and he promptly slid it from her hand, claiming it for himself. “Probably better we discuss this before he gets back.”

She closed the door behind them. “Discuss what?”

Marsh’s deep drawl echoed from the far end of the table. “Beth Martin’s phone records.”

Charlie’s attention swung to him, and though he might not have liked his father much, she recognized the dark jeans, black shirt, and black cowboy hat for what it was. Mourning. She’d been there herself not so long ago; still was to a degree. She walked the length of the table and took one of Marsh’s hands in hers. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “And I’m sorry that wasn’t the first thing I said to you yesterday. It should have been.”

Marsh’s eyes flicked over her shoulder in Sean’s direction, and if she weren’t mistaken, Charlie saw a glint of approval in them. And that same twinkle of mischief she’d glimpsed in them yesterday. He brought his gaze back to her, lifted her hand, and kissed the back of it. “He always said you were one of the good ones.”

“I’ll try better to live up to that.” She squeezed his hand, then after a shot of caffeine, turned toward the papers he’d spread on the table. “Now, tell me what you found?”

“Abel said you might recognize this number.” Marsh tapped a finger next to several highlighted entries on Beth’s phone records, all outgoing calls to the same local number.

A number Charlie knew well. “Tracy.”

“According to those,” Abel said from across the table where he stood next to Diego, “Beth called Tracy multiple times during the past two weeks, including at three o’clock the morning Julian was killed and again at nine, right after the crime scene techs cleared out of the house.”

“Did you confirm Tracy was at the hospital that night?”

“We did, with two nurses and the surgeon she was assisting. I spoke to one of the nurses again just now, and she said Tracy slipped out midsurgery.”

“Do either Tracy or Beth have any connection to Jeff?”

“Both,” Sean replied from his perch on the windowsill.

She raised a brow, prompting him to go on.

“Going on Trevor’s tenure theory, Tracy was married to Trevor when the troubles with his tenure started, correct?”

“Correct.”

Abel slid another piece of paper across the table while Sean continued. “Yesterday afternoon, Trevor made a list of the female tenure candidates Jeff had railroaded. Anyone’s name look familiar?”

Her eyes froze halfway down the list.

Beth Martin.

“Fuck.” She glanced again at Sean. “You still think it could be a frame-up?"

He shrugged. “Possibly, or they may have their own motives.”

“Is Tracy at the hospital now?” she asked Abel.

He nodded.

“Go. Bring her in once her shift is over. She’s less likely to be spooked if it’s you she sees coming.”

“On it, sugar.”

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