Her Last Word Page 5

  The back door’s lock and the area around it were coated in dark graphite fingerprint powder. The forensic technician had also dusted the glass panes directly to the right and left. Adler studied the doorjamb, the frame, and the threshold. Nothing appeared out of order.

  “If her house was going on the market in a few weeks, then the realtor would have a key,” Adler said.

  “Good point,” Quinn said. She flipped through her notes. “According to the neighbor, Larry Jenkins was her realtor, and he owns Dogwood Homes. Since we don’t have a forced entry, it would be worth it to pay him a visit today.”

  “What about cleaning crews?”

  “She did have a crew come in a week ago to deep-clean for the upcoming open house. I don’t have the name.”

  “Given the evidence, I believe our intruder had a key and knew the passcode.”

  “There’s basement access,” Quinn said. She pointed to a small window at ground level secured on the inside with a lock. It had also been dusted for fingerprints. “The window is located above the washer and dryer. No footprints on either appliance, but maybe they’ve been cleaned. There’s also a security sensor on the window.”

  As Adler straightened, he thought about the flowers under Jennifer’s bed. “How long had the killer been in the house hiding before Jennifer arrived home?” he asked, more to himself.

  “Hard to say. He’d have needed time to get inside, put on the suit, and climb under the bed,” she said.

  “Were there any signs of the victim’s blood anywhere in the house other than the bathroom?”

  “No. Not a drop.”

  “Not an easy trick considering how she died.”

  “Takes planning. He came prepared.”

  “Whoever did this has been thinking about it for a while.” The ex-boyfriend came to mind. Murders by strangers were really uncommon. “Let’s talk to Jeremy Keller.” He checked his watch. “Doubtful his office will open for a couple of hours.”

  “I have his home address.”

  “Let’s pay him a visit.”

  Adler offered to drive, and soon the two detectives were on the road. In the predawn hours, the traffic was nonexistent. The drive to the ultramodern home on the river took twenty minutes. The house and its surroundings were dark.

  Out of the car, the detectives walked up to front steps made of a sleek gray stone leading to a very expensive teak front door. The roofline rose into a sharp peak, the top section sporting a bank of full-length windows.

  Adler stood to the left of the door and Quinn to the right. He rang the bell. He waited fifteen seconds, and when there was no sign of life in the house, he rang the bell again while Quinn banged on it. Nothing.

  “He’s not here, or he doesn’t want to talk to us,” Adler said. “Let’s look in the garage window.”

  They moved to a garage lined with clean modern windows. He shone his light inside and saw enough to confirm there was no car.

  Keller’s absence wasn’t suspicious in and of itself. Not uncommon for a young adult male to spend the night somewhere else.

  Adler checked his watch. “It’s after six. Do you have his phone number?”

  “I do.” She read it off.

  Adler dialed the number. The call went to voicemail. He opted not to leave a message. He wanted to deliver the news face-to-face so he could observe Keller’s reaction.

  Adler and Quinn drove to a fast-food restaurant and went through the drive-through. Quinn ordered a bacon-and-egg biscuit and black coffee. He went for the same.

  “This stuff is going to kill us,” she said.

  “No one gets out of here alive.” But no crappy meal was going to do him in.

  “When’s the last time you saw Logan?” she asked.

  “A few days ago. He has his new prosthetic, and he’s learning to walk.”

  “He and Suzanne were a little rocky. They okay?”

  “We didn’t talk about his wife.” He hoped the marriage was solid enough to sustain through Logan’s injury.

  They ate the rest of the meal in silence and then made their way to Keller and Mayberry Engineering thirty minutes away. When they arrived it was seven a.m., but the building was lit up.

  A large sign embossed with a K&M logo resembling towering mountain peaks hung behind a smooth pine receptionist desk, where a young blond woman in a crisp red dress already sat. She smiled. “May I help you?”

  Adler showed his badge, and she immediately rose to her feet.

  “I’m looking for Jeremy Keller.”

  She looked a little startled. “I’ll get him right away.” She disappeared into a maze of gray cubicles.

  Minutes later a tall, lean man with thinning red hair and sporting tortoiseshell glasses shrugged on his suit jacket and adjusted his tie as he quickly walked toward the detectives.

  “I’m Jeremy Keller,” the man said while extending his hand.

  “I’m Detective Adler, and this is my partner, Detective Quinn. Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

  Jeremy reached for his monogrammed cuff and tugged it with a jerk. “Sure. The conference room.” He led them into a corner room dominated by a mahogany table surrounded by twelve leather-bound chairs. He quietly closed the door and invited them to sit. “What’s this about?”

  “Does your company always open this early?” Adler asked.

  “We have a big deadline. I was here all night.”

  “Never left?”

  “Correct. It’s not unusual in this line of work.”

  “That explains it. We stopped by your house an hour ago,” Adler said.

  “As I said, I was here. We have a big presentation in two days. May I ask why you would go by my home?”

  “You also didn’t answer your phone,” Adler countered.

  Keller’s frown deepened. “I don’t when I’m working. What is this about, Detectives?”

  “One of your employees, Jennifer Ralston, was murdered in her home last night.” Adler enunciated the words slowly, watching Jeremy’s face. Some murderers were good at feigning shock. Most, however, did it poorly. Adler couldn’t always articulate why someone’s reaction was off, but he knew it when he saw it.

  Jeremy’s face paled, and he flinched as if struck. “Jesus, are you sure? I saw her yesterday. We were in a meeting, and she was excited about heading up a new project.”

  “We’re sure. You said you saw her yesterday? When was that exactly?”

  He stared absently for a moment and then shook his head. “About five.” He slumped farther into the leather chair. “We were sitting right here. I wanted Jennifer to stay late, but she was adamant she had to leave.”

  Adler angled the chair slightly toward Jeremy, knowing his body position suggested they were on the same team.

  Quinn sat across from them. He and Quinn hadn’t interviewed as a team yet. Normally partners fell into a rhythm. Call it good cop/bad cop roles or whatever, but having a balance of adversarial versus supportive interview skills worked. Most people had seen enough TV cop shows to spot the technique, but real-life situations brought a ton of adrenaline and stress. It was only natural to gravitate to the guy throwing you a lifeline, which in this case would be Adler.

  “Do you have any idea who might have done this?” Quinn asked.

  “Kill Jennifer? Shit. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. No. I don’t know anyone like that. She was well liked by all her colleagues. A good person.”

  “Someone didn’t see it that way,” Quinn said.

  “How was Ms. Ralston’s performance on the job?” Adler asked.

  “She was great. She was one of our most productive managers. Her attention to detail was annoyingly amazing.”

  “Did you notice a difference in the last couple of months?” Adler asked.

  “I could tell she was a little distracted. In late February, she was not quite on her game and missed a few details. I called her into my office. She swore she was fine, but I could see something was bothering
her.”

  “Did she tell you what it was?” Quinn asked as she studied an architectural drawing on the wall behind Keller.

  “No.”

  “Did her distraction have to do with the personal relationship she shared with you?” Quinn asked.

  “What?” Jeremy’s face reddened. “Jennifer and I weren’t really in a relationship.”

  “What would you call it?” Adler asked.

  “Friends.” He paused. “With benefits.”

  Quinn nodded. “I see. Was she more into you than you were into her?”

  Jeremy stammered. “You’re making it sound like I might have hurt her.”

  “Not at all,” Adler offered. “We’re trying to figure out who killed her.” He leaned forward a fraction. “When did you two end your relationship?”

  “About six months ago. There were no bad feelings on either side,” Jeremy insisted. “I’m dating again, and I know she dated other men. She told me about a guy last week.”

  “How’d you feel about that?” Quinn said. “Did it bother you a little?”

  “No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Did she mention his name?” Adler asked.

  “No.”

  “Why were you at her house a few weeks ago?” Adler asked.

  “I was dropping off papers she’d left at the office. She didn’t answer the door, so I left.”

  “Did she ever mention having a stalker?” Adler asked.

  “A stalker? No. A couple of times Jennifer was late to work. Once she said her tire had been slashed. I thought it sounded like an excuse. She got so mad she slammed the receipts from the tire repair shop on my desk.”

  “How long did she act stressed?”

  “A few weeks. I asked her about the troubles, and she said they’d stopped. I almost made a quip about her imaginary friend but thought better. She was wound pretty tight.”

  “Wise move,” Adler commented. “Did you or her coworkers ever see anyone lingering around?”

  “No. No one ever brought anything to my attention.”

  “Have you ever heard the name Gina Mason?” Adler asked.

  “No.”

  “What about Kaitlin Roe?”

  Jeremy nodded sheepishly. “Jennifer wrote the name on her blotter and circled it several times.”

  “You notice doodles and scribbles for all your employees?” Quinn asked.

  “Jennifer had suddenly canceled a business meeting with me back in late February. It wasn’t like her, and it made me curious.”

  “So you searched her office?” Quinn pressed.

  “You’ve got it wrong. I looked around,” Jeremy said.

  “You didn’t want her, but didn’t want anyone else to have her?” Quinn was deliberately provoking him to gauge his reaction.

  He held up his hand. “You’re twisting my words.”

  Adler dialed back the dialogue. “We’re trying to fit all the pieces together, Mr. Keller, so we can leave here and find her killer.”

  “I feel like I should have an attorney.”

  “Again, we’re simply gathering information. Can you tell me a little more about what you do here?”

  “We’re civil engineers. Site work. Environmental assessments.”

  “Environmental work,” Adler said. “What does that entail?”

  Keller shook his head. “I’m not sure why it matters.”

  “It may.”

  “Gas and oil spills. Wetlands.”

  “Sounds like messy work. Does it require a protective suit?” Quinn asked.

  “Sometimes. Why?”

  Quinn deflected the question. “Did Jennifer do any environmental work?”

  “Sure. She was solid in the field.”

  “So she’d have worn one of those suits?” Adler asked.

  “Sure. Why do you care about the suits?” Jeremy asked.

  “Sorry. It was a tangent.” Adler repeated several of Quinn’s questions, again to see if Jeremy’s responses remained consistent. Finally, after fifteen minutes of questions and answers, the detectives stood. Adler handed Jeremy his card.

  Jeremy took the card but didn’t meet his gaze. He absently rubbed his forearm. “Thank you for telling me about Jennifer.”

  “Your arm okay?” Adler asked. “I noticed earlier it seemed to bother you.”

  “Racquetball injury.”

  “Sucks getting older,” Adler said.

  “Can we see your arm?” Quinn asked.

  “Why?” Jeremy asked.

  “I want to strike you off the list,” Adler said.

  “What list?”

  “Suspect,” Quinn said.

  “I didn’t hurt Jennifer.”

  “The sooner we can exclude you, the sooner we can find the person who killed your friend.”

  Jeremy hesitated and then unfastened his cuff and rolled up his sleeve. A deep-red scratch snaked up over his forearm to his elbow.

  Quinn pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

  When it came to questioning a suspect, the most critical hours were the earliest in an investigation. The longer people had to think, the more pat their answers became. Right now, Jeremy was a little off guard, and the detectives knew it.

  Quinn snapped several more photos. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

  “Sure, I guess,” Jeremy said.

  As Jeremy rolled down his sleeve, he furrowed his brow. “I didn’t take her seriously. I thought Jennifer was jerking me around after we stopped seeing each other.”

  “May I take a quick cheek swab?” Quinn asked as she pulled out a Q-tip encased in a vial.

  Adler offered a warm grin. “DNA. I want to clear you of this investigation as soon as possible.”

  Jeremy looked relieved. “Sure, I guess.”

  Quinn quickly snapped open the seal on the vial and removed the Q-tip. “Open.” She swabbed the insides of his mouth before replacing the Q-tip in the vial without saying a word.

  Jeremy rubbed his hands through his hair. “Jesus, I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Can you point to anything else that was bothering Jennifer?” Adler asked.

  “Someone sent her flowers. They came with no notes. At first she thought they were from me. I assured her they weren’t, but I don’t know if she believed me.”

  “Do you know which florist delivered them?” Quinn asked.

  “No.”

  “Where were they delivered?” Adler asked.

  “To her home, I suppose,” Keller said.

  “When you dated, what was she like?” Quinn asked.

  “Driven. Quiet and moody at times. Other times fun.”

  “Was she safety conscious?” Adler asked, remembering the three dead bolts on her front door.

  “Yes. She said you could never be too careful.”

  “Any reason why?”

  “Once I showed up late. She’d started drinking without me and was a little tipsy. She was looking at old pictures and pointed to one taken when she was about sixteen. She was grinning from ear to ear in the picture. Jennifer said it was the picture of ‘the girl she’d been.’ She spoke about herself as if that girl had died.”

  “Did she explain the comment?” Adler asked.

  “No. We ended up in bed and distracted. It was an amazing night.”

  “Can we see her cubicle?” Quinn asked.

  “Sure.” Jeremy led them through the cubicles overlooking the woods behind the building.

  There were three stacks of papers on her desk. Three pencils were lined up to the right, as if standing at attention and waiting for orders. On her wall were her diplomas and professional designations.

  Adler sat at her desk and opened the middle and side drawers but found nothing that caught his attention. Behind the desk on the credenza were a potted cactus and a picture of a smiling Jennifer standing arm in arm with her sister, Ashley.

  “Call us if you think of anything else, no matter how inconsequential,” Adler said.

 
“Absolutely.”

  Jeremy escorted them to the reception area. Instead of leaving right away, Adler turned to the receptionist. “Did Jennifer ever receive any mail or deliveries that may have upset her?”

  The receptionist glanced toward her boss, and when he nodded, she said, “She did receive a letter. She opened it in front of me and slammed it in the trash without saying a word.”

  “Remember what was on the envelope and letter?” Adler asked.

  “There was no return address. Plain white envelope. Handwritten. Block letters. I thought the sender had been a draftsman.”

  “Postmark?”

  “Richmond.”

  “Good memory,” Adler said.

  She shrugged. “Hand-addressed letters are out of the ordinary and stick out.”

  Adler leaned toward her a fraction. “Did you look at the letter after she threw it in the trash?”

  She looked sheepishly toward Jeremy.

  “Tell them,” Jeremy said. “It’s all right.”

  “Yes, I looked at it. I never look at personal information, but her reaction made me worry for her. It was just a hand-drawn heart.”

  “In pen, pencil, ink?”

  “Red ink,” she said.

  “Any similar letters?” Adler asked.

  “No.”

  “See anyone suspicious hanging around?” Quinn asked.

  “No.”

  “Was she dating anyone else?” Adler asked.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Thanks,” Adler said. “Mr. Keller, we’ll be in touch.”

  Outside, Quinn slid on her glasses with such deliberate slowness it was clear she was pissed. “Our victim has an ex-boyfriend, and a killer who had access to her house and lingered in her house for several hours before he killed her.”

  “You think Keller killed Jennifer?”

  “Stalkers generally have had some interaction with their victims before their behavior turns dangerous.”

  “Fair point, but before we start chasing after Keller, I want to hear Jennifer’s interview with Kaitlin,” Adler said.

  INTERVIEW FILE #5

  THE FIRST FEW HOURS

  Everyone who came in contact with Gina on her final day second-guessed their last words. Would it have made a difference? Should I have told her to stay home? Was it smart to drink by the river at night? What if I’d called a cab for us all? Was there someone lurking around I should have seen?