Dead Wrong. Susan Sleeman

her inside where a young clerk escorted them through a bullpen area to a desk in the back. A stout, uniformed male came to his feet, his eyes roving over Kat, then Mitch, taking in details an officer of the law was trained to see.

      “Senior Trooper Ed Franklin.” He thrust out a hand.

      Mitch offered his business card while completing introductions.

      “You didn’t mention Ms. Justice would be accompanying you.” His tone hinted at opposition.

      Mitch eyed up the officer with a stare he’d perfected in suspect interrogations. “Is that a problem?”

      “No,” he said, though Mitch heard the reluctance in the single word. He sat and gestured toward chairs by his cluttered desk. “So you came to talk about the Bodig fatality.”

      Mitch waited for Kat to sit then took the other chair. “I’m interested in hearing how you determined this crash was an accident.”

      “First off, a crash like Bodig’s isn’t unusual for that stretch of highway.” Franklin leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. He seemed relaxed but Mitch could see he remained alert. “We’ve covered several fatal accidents in that location. Second, it was a rainy night with slick roads.”

      “So you think visibility might’ve been a factor in the crash?” Mitch clarified.

      “Could be.” He snapped forward and pulled out a map, pointing to a section of Highway 30. “This is where it happened. Deep ravines line both sides of the road here. It wouldn’t take much of a misstep to turn fatal.”

      “Any possibility he was forced off the road?”

      “There were no skid marks at the scene. So that would be highly unlikely. But without an eye witness, I can’t be one hundred percent positive.”

      “No skid marks?” Kat asked, clearly surprised.

      “None.”

      Interesting. A lack of skid marks would mean Nathan didn’t apply his brakes to keep from going off the road. But that wasn’t conclusive. His brakes could’ve been cut, or Bodig could have been impaired. Maybe by alcohol or drugs or he fell asleep. “What about Bodig? Did you check him out?”

      “We ran down the usual profile. Blood alcohol, tox screen, D.M.V. record. All clean. He made the trip every weekend to visit his fiancée in Astoria. From what she and his sister both said, he’d been burning the candle at both ends. My best guess is that he fell asleep at the wheel.”

      “And no unusual findings on the vehicle?”

      “Unusual? No. But it was seriously charred.” He shook his head. “Don’t know how long it burned before the fire department arrived on scene. A trucker spotted the wreck and called it in.”

      “Do you know what happened to the vehicle after it was released?” Mitch asked, hoping they could get a look at it.

      Franklin opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. He circled something in the middle of the page and slid it across the desk. “This is the tow company we recommend to next of kin. Henry down there is good about helping them dispose of vehicles. You can check with them.”

      “Thanks,” Mitch said. “One more thing. Bodig’s cell phone. It was never recovered.”

      “His sister said that was odd so we spent extra time looking for it.” He reclined again. “With all the windows shattered in the car, his phone could’ve been ejected and landed anywhere. The brush is too thick to search every inch.”

      “But it definitely wasn’t in the car,” Kat added.

      He nodded and looked at Mitch. “You mind telling me what this’s all about?”

      “We think this may not have been an accident.”

      “Suppose you tell me what you’re basing that on.” This time he didn’t mask his defensive tone.

      “Relax. It has nothing to do with your investigation. His sister was murdered after she started looking into the accident.”

      “Murdered.” Franklin’s feet came to the floor with a loud thud. “Why didn’t you tell me that right up front?”

      “I needed to know your mind-set at the time of the investigation. Telling you could’ve changed your perception of things.”

      “You think?” He kept shaking his head. “Now I’m wondering if I missed something. How’d the sister die?”

      “Injected with propofol.”

      “If Bodig had taken propofol, he couldn’t have been driving,” Franklin mumbled to himself then a light-bulb-gone-off look brightened his face. “This’s why you want to see the car. You think it was tampered with.”

      “It’s possible,” Mitch said, not wanting to get into details of their investigation with Franklin. “We’d appreciate a copy of the accident report as soon as possible.”

      “I’ll run one off right now.” Franklin got up. “Be right back.”

      When he was out of hearing distance, Mitch faced Kat. “Not what you expected to hear?”

      “No, but the lack of skid marks aren’t conclusive. He still could’ve been murdered.” Her chin jutted out in a cute defiant angle.

      “Agreed. If our killer has access to propofol, he could get any number of drugs that didn’t show up on the basic tox screen Franklin had run. If Bodig had drugs on board it would’ve seriously hindered his ability to drive.” He smiled to try to ease the concern wedged on her face. “But we’ll need solid evidence before we can request additional tests.”

      “Question is where are we going to find that evidence?”

      “You up for a road trip?”

      “Where to?”

      “The accident scene.” He felt the excitement of the hunt raising his pulse and heard it settling in his voice.

      “Absolutely,” she agreed. “Though after two months it seems unlikely there’d be anything for us to find.”

      “It’s still a good idea to get a visual of how things went down. After that we’ll take a look at Bodig’s vehicle.” He saw Franklin returning, so ended their conversation.

      “Here you go.” Franklin handed over the file.

      “Thanks.” Mitch stood. “Mind if we take your map?”

      “Not at all.” Franklin picked it up and gave it to him.

      “You’ve got my card. Call me if you think of anything that might help.”

      Franklin gave a clipped nod. “Will do.”

      Mitch gestured for Kat to precede him, and they headed for the exit.

      “By the way, I meant to say thanks in there,” he said, slipping ahead and holding the door for her.

      “For what?”

      “For letting me do most of the talking.”

      “Don’t get used to it.” She grinned up at him, revealing small dimples in both cheeks.

      He ignored the way his heart dipped again and followed her outside.

      The sun had given way to rain. More than a drizzle, less than a steady rain. Kat flipped up her hood. Mitch’s P.P.B. windbreaker didn’t have one, so he rushed ahead and unlocked the doors.

      In the car, he handed over the paper from Franklin. “Can you call the garage to see if the wreck is still there or if they got rid of it for salvage?”

      “Sure.”

      He headed out of town, and she dug out her phone. On Highway 30, he paid close attention to the two-lane road. With slick rain, the road could be as dangerous as