“Did you know her family well?”
“A little.” He clears his throat of the emotion settling in. “Anyway, sorry you have to process that in your first week. Normally, I’d do it, but Chief said you could handle it, and I shouldn’t have to live through it twice.”
My heartbeat kicks once, too loud.
I can’t tell if he’s happy about that or not. Either way, again, I’m glad Chief trusts me with the closure of what’s likely one of the biggest cases in years.
I decide to show Ingram I’m competent but also humble.
“I’d still be happy to learn from you. You have some years on me…”
“Hey now…” He tilts his head with a humorous warning.
I laugh at his suggestion of being old.
“I was looking at this.” I pick up the tire photo and angle it slightly. “Are there two sets of tire tracks here?”
He sits on the edge of my desk. “One of the good things about a small force is all of us eventually get decent at everything. Jack of all trades, master of none.” His eyes twinkle. “Happy to help with anything and everything…”
He takes the photo and holds it for me to see while pointing things out to teach me. “The shallow marks are tire tracks, faded, from people parking up. The ones with the measurements against them were Zoe’s.”
“People park up at the quarry?”
“Sure.”
“Why?”
“It’s a lookout point.”
It doesn’t seem like a scenic place to me. “Foul play was ruled out? Why would a young woman go to a quarry alone, super far out of town at night…stargazing?”
He quirks an eyebrow, and I don’t know if I hit a nerve. After all, a lot of the investigation in this folder is his.
He taps it one last time. “Sorry you have to handle it, but it should be pretty cut and dried.”
I glance down at the tire picture again. Maybe I should leave it. I’m not sure I want to be the uber-keen rookie who doesn’t trust her colleagues’ work.
Ingram heads back to his desk and types, changing the subject. “You interested in K-9 duties?”
“Maybe…”When I’m not pregnant.
He scrolls, blue light on his face. “I’m really wanting to get one for the department…” he trails off, sucked in by his research on police dogs, I guess.
He takes his baseball in his hand and throws it up and down gently while reading something on screen.
I close the folder. My heart beats a little too hard, my mind telling me to sift through every fine detail with a toothpick, but maybe all of this is hormones? Maybe every mom would be skeptical? During the next five months, how will I know what’s real and what’s not?
But instinct is definitely flaring.
And this time, I hear not my mom’s but Anton’s voice in my head…
He used to say that instinct is your first weapon.
And right now? Every instinct in my body is whispering that I shouldn’t let what people think of me stop me from processing this case like it’s the first time. Anyway, the tox report is new.
Without meaning to, my thoughts drift back to Anton.
I find myself wanting to run this past him for the quietcheck that tells me whether I’m seeing clearly or missing something obvious.
