“Um, sure, thanks. I’ll let you know if I need help.” It was the cold, disinterested way in which he offered, as though she were no more than a new colleague, that made her realize exactly how much distance had grown between them.
With that abrupt change in subject, Dylan laid the file folder from Banksy on the desk in front of them and opened it to the first page. Banksy was nothing if not organized, and the separate tabs and the table of contents for the file’s documents were a little much. Kelsi snorted at the layout, and Dylan cracked a small grin in response. She flushed and recovered her cool expression, looking back down at the file.
Together they ran through the contents of the case file, Dylan reading them aloud in his unfamiliar deep, husky voice. The first document was the initial police report from the witness who found the body. It was John Blackwell, a man they knew to be eccentric but kind anytime they had seen him around town.
The witness’s recounting of the events stated that he went out in the morning in his jon boat to collect his crab pots. He’d pulled up four pots and thrown them in the boat before turning around to head back to his property. He glanced up at the riprap—a rocky material placed around the shoreline to protect against erosion—on the southern portion of his property, off the point, and saw the victim. His body had washed up onto the riprap sometime overnight and his clothing had snagged on the rocks, anchoring his body to them when the tide went out.
Kelsi looked up from the document to Dylan when he finished reading. “Mr. Blackwell’s property is only a creek down from the McGuinness place, right?”
Dylan nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Blackwell lives at the mouth of both though, so it’s not as though it would be unreasonable for a body to wash from the McGuinness creek down to his property, depending on the currents and the tide at the time the body hit the water. We could try to look at maps to figure out where the body was dumped and all that.”
“Yeah, that’s something to keep in mind for trial. It also couldn’t hurt to get an expert to take a look at those and testify if we need. If it helps prove in any way that McGuinness is the one who killed him, we’ll want that testimony for the jury.”
Dylan pulled out a legal pad, writing downexpert witness: check maps of currents on night of deathandwhat times were low and high tide on night of death?in masculine block letters.
The professionalism was easy to slip into, but it jarred her how cool their behaviors were. This didn’t feel like they had been friends since birth. This felt like the obligatory respect you gave a lab partner when you needed to get a group project done. Kelsi flipped to the next document in the file, the coroner’s report.
“According to this, the time of death is estimated to be between ten and eleven thirty on the night of July third. The cause of death was drowning, and it’s labeled as ‘suspicious’ in the report, but there’s no finding of homicide or accident listed by the coroner.”
“Probably back at the vacation home for the weekend of the Fourth and got a little carried away drinking. Maybe he fell into the water off the docks and nobody noticed?” Dylan furrowed his brow in thought as he looked down at the report in front of them. “But why charge McGuinness with first-degree murder and not involuntary manslaughter or something? Are there any other injuries listed in that report?”
Kelsi scanned the document. “Yes, it says there was blunt force trauma to the posterior of the skull, resulting in a skull fracture and a visible laceration.” She sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers underneath her chin. “So, either Tripp fell and hit his head before winding up unconscious in the water, or he was hit by somebody.”
“If he was attacked it would explain the first-degree charges, but nothing we’ve read yet can conclusively prove that.” He shuffled through the papers.
“What are you looking for?”
“I’m trying to see if there’s a report here about any evidence found, like record of a possible murder weapon or any forensic analysis for a potential murder site.”
Kelsi observed him as he scanned the pages, a sense of déjà vu overcoming her. They used to sit like this in law school, scanning their casebooks and hoping they were understanding the homework enough to survive the inevitable cold calls, where the professors chose one student at random to question in front of the whole class. God forbid you missed one day of reading, because you were guaranteed to be the unlucky soul subjected to academic torture.
She knew the moment Dylan found something, because his brow furrowed even more.
“What is it?” she questioned. “Did you find anything helpful?”
“Not helpful, just more confusing. This evidence log says the police noticed a large scratch on the side of the McGuinnesses’ boat when they went to the property the next day, as though it ran into something. But they didn’t impound it for evidence, and the very next day it was in the shop for repair work.”
CHAPTER 8
Dylan
28 Days to Trial
“Ran into something?Do they have any idea what?” Kelsi leaned closer to him, trying to read the document over his shoulder, and the nostalgic, soft vanilla scent of her perfume washed over him. Distracted, he didn’t immediately register that she had leaned away, waiting for his response, her head tilted slightly in question.
He surreptitiously swept a hand under his mouth to check for drool and cleared his throat before finding the spot on the report he’d been reading from.Head in the game, Dylan.“Doesn’t say. There’s zero forensic analysis on the boat, and no explanation that I can see for how the victim’s blunt force trauma may have happened.”
“Hmmm,” Kelsi hummed, considering this. “Is there any interview with McGuinness?”
“Yes, but the entirety of the transcript is McGuinness saying, ‘I refuse to answer any questions without my attorney present.’” Dylan flipped the page. “Oh, and when his attorney was present, it was, ‘My client is not required to answer any of your questions and does elect to exercise his Fifth Amendment right to remain silent.’”
Kelsi sighed. “So, basically, there’s no evidence to actually prove that he intentionally killed the guy? No evidence that McGuinness was even involved?”
“Why would Banksy file first-degree murder charges against this guy, knowing the money his family has to throw at an attorney and how little evidence there is? This case feels like a stab in the dark.”
Kelsi grabbed the file from him. “There has to be a reason. Banksy is the best attorney I’ve ever known. She wouldn’t have done this without a good idea that he’s guilty and that she could prove it.”
She scanned through the tabbed documents, stopping at one that, from the larger text at the top of the page, was a transcript from the preliminary hearing for the case. The testimony was given by the town recluse, Marge Wetherby. As she read, her eyes widened, and she must have finally decided to clue him in on whatever she found because she said, “Wait, look at this.” She nudged the transcript toward Dylan, who leaned over and sucked in a breath as he read further.
