A Silent Fury. Lynette Eason

      She scraped a hand through that silky blond mane that never seemed to stay where she wanted it. He remembered smoothing it down, around her cheeks, his fingers grazing skin so soft, he…

      Clearing his throat, he asked, “What was his jacket doing at the crime scene? He doesn’t even go to this school anymore now that he’s playing baseball with Esterman High.”

      “I know. We pulled him in for questioning and he claims he met Kelly here, they were walking, she was cold and he gave her his jacket.”

      “So how did it wind up on the ground?” He pointed to the marker indicating where the jacket had been found.

      “He says he has no idea. That he left his jacket with her and he was going to come back to get it the next day, which would be today. Tracy was found last night. We still haven’t heard anything from Kelly.”

      “You don’t believe him.” Joseph stated it as fact, his eyes never leaving her face. If he hadn’t been studying her so intently, he would have missed the brief flicker of regret.

      She shrugged, turning back to assess the scene. He wondered if she was just avoiding looking at him. She said, “I don’t know, Joseph. And that’s the truth. I don’t want to think Dylan capable of something like this. Dylan’s aunt is a dispatcher with the department. His mom is a single mother and while his dad’s in the picture, he’s not around much. Dylan’s track record isn’t great, and kids do stupid stuff all the time that turns deadly.” Another shrug. “Who knows? I’m reserving judgment until all the evidence is in.”

      “Alonso sent me a text message. Dylan’s a good friend of his, of our family. Alonso firmly believes in his buddy’s innocence and is begging me to prove it.” He blew out a sigh and looked at her. “You’ve already got him tried and found guilty, haven’t you?”

      “No.” Her eyes got that glint again, the one that said he was walking a fine line, and she was having trouble holding on to her temper. Not for the first time he thought she should have been a redhead. “I didn’t say that. I said I’m following the evidence.”

      “And what if that evidence is all circumstantial and yet still leads back to Dylan?”

      “Then I’ll arrest him.”

      Catelyn hated the tension between the two of them. Once upon a time, Joseph had been her best friend, her confidante, the only man who’d ever made her seriously think about tossing away her personal rule about never marrying a cop. She turned away from him, walked to the edge of the tape.

      His voice came from her right. “What else did they find?”

      “A ring with some blood on it.” She kept her words clipped, professional.

      “The girl’s or someone else’s?”

      “Don’t know yet. It just went into the lab. You know how fast the turnaround time is.” Sarcasm dripped off the words.

      Joseph snorted. “Yeah.”

      Catelyn came closer, asking the question she’d wondered for the last couple of years—ever since he’d left. “So, how have you been?”

      “Good. Just working a lot. New York’s a fascinating city.”

      “I’m sure.” Now she was stuck. Backed into that awkward conversational corner, silence stretching, making her itch to escape.

      Joseph walked the perimeter, just inside the tape. Bending down, he touched the grass. “There was some kind of scuffle here. The grass is really torn up in this spot. I mean, I know it’s a school with kids everywhere, but this area’s kind of off the beaten path.”

      Relieved to be back on a safe topic, she said, “Yes, the crime-scene guys looked it over, got the pictures. No prints, though. The ground’s too hard.”

      Glancing at the sky, Joseph lamented, “Could have used the rain that’s coming this afternoon a couple of days ago.”

      She walked a few feet outside the tape. Several strategically placed large boulders lined the curving entrance to the school. More were placed under the shade trees near the pasture where students like to gather in the afternoon. Catelyn scanned them and something caught her attention. She leaned down, pulling the small high-powered digital camera from her pocket. She snapped two pictures of the item, then pulled out a glove. Just because something turned up outside the tape, didn’t mean it wasn’t evidence. With a steady hand, she picked it up.

      Wood. About two inches wide by six inches long.

      Looking around, she spied the trees, a wooden play set off to the left, wooden cedar chips had been spread near the horse pasture. The wooden fence. Wood everywhere. Carefully, she studied the piece. Scanned the wood surrounding her once more. It didn’t really match anything nearby. Possibly the light, wooden play set.

      So what was it?

      “What have you got?”

      “I was just trying to figure that out. It’s a piece of wood, but I don’t know what kind or where it came from. There’s nothing else around here like it. See, it’s smooth on this side, but rough around the edges and underneath.”

      He came closer, stood next to her to inspect the piece. She shivered at the proximity and had to concentrate on his words so she wouldn’t think how wonderful it felt to have him near again. He was saying, “Could be part of that play set. They just built it.”

      “It’s probably nothing, but…” Catelyn snagged a plastic bag from her pocket, one she’d stuck in there just in case. She dropped the piece into it and moved a couple of inches away. She couldn’t breathe with him that close. It galled her he could still stir her up when she just wanted to forget the anger and hurt he’d left her with two years ago. “I’ll just get this over to the lab. They’ll be able to tell us what kind of wood it is.”

      “Sometime in this century, I hope.” He sounded jaded, resigned.

      “Ah!”

      The guttural cry brought them both around. Alonso, Joseph’s brother stood there with Dylan Carlisle. Joseph took note of Dylan’s clenched fists, ragged breathing and air of desperation. Seeing he had their attention, he signed, “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Tracy!”

      TWO

      Joseph strode to his brother and the distraught young man. He gripped Dylan’s shoulders and squeezed, hoping to transmit understanding and comfort. Dropping his hands, he signed, “We’re going to find out who did.”

      Alonso shifted, anxiety oozing from him. Joseph had sent a text message to his brother to let him know that he had arrived in town and would see him soon, but after his visit to the morgue, Joseph had come straight to the crime scene.

      Alonso and Dylan had come to find him. He studied the lanky young suspect in front of him. Frantic blue eyes, blond hair, a smattering of freckles across a sharp nose and pale cheeks. Then Alonso, who was Dylan’s physical opposite. A little shorter with brown eyes and dark skin, he was a younger version of Joseph, their Italian heritage prominently displayed.

      A small cut on Dylan’s chin looked angry, red. Alonso had a bit of stubble that had already grown out since this morning. His little brother and his friends were already shaving, growing up. Were grown up, he realized. Dylan was considered a man and old enough to be tried as an adult if convicted of murder. What would that do to Alonso who fervently believed in his friend’s innocence?

      Joseph signed, “I believe you. Unless I find solid evidence to the contrary, I believe you. Okay?”

      Chest still heaving, Dylan glared back at Joseph, and Joseph flinched at the agony in the boy’s eyes. Either the kid was an excellent actor or he was telling the truth.

      Catelyn came up to sign, “You two shouldn’t be here.”

      Joseph wanted to tell her to stay away, but she was right, neither