Ivan protested.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked. “It’ll be dangerous, or a trap.”
She shook her head.
“No. This is part of it. He won’t be the killer. In fact, I’m willing to bet that he’ll be dead. It’s too easy. He knew we’d check the DNA. He knew I’d assume. It won’t be him. It’s someone I’m not focused on. It’s the least obvious.”
Then, she paused.
As she was walking past the curtains, she smelled something.
Oh, and she knew that smell anywhere.
It hit her like a punch to the gut.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said, grabbing Raphael’s phone off his belt, and dialing.
“Nine-one-one, city and state?”
She went there.
“I need an ambulance to fourteen Greenbridge Lane inHolladay. There’s an injured man there. He’s been attacked, and he’s dying. Send police!” she said, hanging up.
Then, she focused on Raphael.
“I hope that was encrypted or the cops are coming for you,” she said.
Uh, it was.
She grabbed Ethan by the shirt, and dragged him toward the curtain.
“SMELL THIS.”
She found her small clue, and it was so minuscule that almost everyone would miss it.
BUT HER.
He did.
“It’s cologne. I don’t know what you are smelling. What are you worked up about? You’re worrying me.”
She wasn’t having a breakdown.
Oh, not at all.
She got the game now.
“I smelled this before. When we walked into the fancy office of Devon Slater, and he shook our hands, this was his cologne. It’s expensive. I remember thinking…he’s rich-rich, like Callen. Because it screamed wealth.”
Ethan lifted a brow.
She wasn’t done.
“The father-son link was a clue, but he hid it so deep in other bullshit, I’d never normally question it. He said he saw me around DC, but we ignored that because he’s a power player in DC with lots of money. He was giving us a little clue that I’m always in his reach. He was bragging.”
Ethan’s heart was starting to thump in his chest.
If she was accessible, so were their kids.
