Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“They finished eating and just paid their bill,” Logan mutters over the speaker, and I grip the steering wheel.
If we didn’t need to have a clean sample of Kelly’s DNA along with a clear chain of custody for the sample, I would have gone through the trash can I saw sitting at the end of his driveway this morning when we drove by his house. But every single part of this operation needs to be done by the book with so much on the line. Which is why we’ve left the state police out of the loop, we didn’t want to risk Kelly being tipped off even accidentally. And since it’s obvious he’s had his hands on this case from the beginning that was a big possibility.
“They’re on the move,” Logan says, and even if I can’t see the men around me, I feel every single one of them go on alert. When Kelly exits the restaurant with his wife, I watch the two of them walk hand and hand to his truck smiling at each other. Kelly looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. My jaw clenches. I glance back toward the restaurant and hope like fuck that Logan is able to get us what we need before the waitress can clear the table they were sitting at.
This isn’t Kelly and his wife’s first stop of the day, they went to Walmart, and a gas station before coming here for breakfast but we couldn’t get a DNA sample from either of their previous two stops so this might be our last shot. “I got it.” Logan’s voice cracks over the stereo and my muscles relax.
“Thank fuck,” Martinez mutters from his seat.
“I’ll give you the all clear after they drive off,” I tell Logan.
It takes a few minutes for Kelly to back his truck out of his parking space and a minute after he and his wife exit the parking lot of the restaurant, Logan steps outside carrying a black plastic shopping bag.
After doing a quick scan of the area he walks up to the passenger door of my SUV and Martinez rolls down the window. “Did the waitress ask questions?” I ask while Martinez takes the bag handing it to him through the window and removes the paper bag from inside the plastic one and seals it with a piece of red evidence tape.
“She didn’t even notice, no one did. It’s packed in there and they’re understaffed. I got his coffee mug and water cup.”
I jerk up my chin. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem, I’ll see you guys tomorrow, let me know if you need anything else. Good luck, guys.”
“Thanks.” He taps the edge of the window, then walks off toward his motorcycle. As he starts it, and the pipes rumble to life, all the other officers including Tucker who came to help out today take off from where they have been parked around the building as back up.
“I’m going to call the lab and let them know we’re going to be dropping off,” Martinez says taking out his cell as I back out of my parking space.
“When you get them on the phone ask what the wait time is.” I pull onto the main road that will take us to the highway as he makes the call.
The tension in the cab is thick enough to cut with a knife by the time he tosses his cell phone to the dash after hanging up. I glance his direction and watch him rip his fingers through his hair. “How long?”
“Even with a rush it could be two weeks or longer with the backlog of cases they have waiting for processing.” It’s a sad theme in every case I’ve worked but with a lack of funds allocated to the police department we have to wait in line like everyone else.
“Then we wait and see what other evidence we can find between then and now.”
“You’re good with just letting him walk until then?” he bites out and my jaw clenches.
“No, but if we jump the gun and bring him in today, we wouldn’t have enough to hold him.” My fingers flex on the steering wheel. “He’s familiar with the way these things go, so the first thing he’s going to do is lawyer up. And when that happens it’s going to make things more difficult for us to speak to him when we do get the results back from the lab.”
“I just want that motherfucker in a room.”
“And we’ll get him there. It’s just going to take some time,” I say calmly. I know his frustration with this situation is coming from a good place. And like me he’s probably remembering Grace’s mom’s tear-stained face and the look in her eyes after she pleaded for help. “If he did this, we’ll get him.”