Noah took it. Frowned. "What is this?"
"Take a look."
He opened the bag and tilted it toward the light. Inside was a single blue latex glove, sealed in a clear evidence bag. He stared at it.
"Where did this come from?"
"The Hale murders," Natalie said. "There was a blue latex glove submitted as evidence. It went missing. You know that Sergeant Anita Emerson checked it out of evidence storage. The DNA from it was never processed." She held his gaze. "Had it been, you would have known whether it matched Travis Rudd,the one accused of killing Rebecca and Jacob Hale. Or whether Travis had an accomplice."
"The driver of the black truck?"
She nodded.
The brown bag sat in Noah's hand. He could feel the weight of the glove inside it, negligible in grams, enormous in everything else. He looked at Natalie and then at the bag and then at his dark house behind him where nobody was home and nothing was simple.
"Where did you find this?"
"My father had it."
"How long have you known?"
"A couple of months."
"And you waited until now to tell me?"
"I didn't know what it was at the time." She stopped. "And..."
"Right. He's your father." Noah exhaled. He turned the bag over in his hands and felt the shape of the glove through the paper. "I'm not sure what this does for me. I can't prove this was in your father's possession unless you're willing to be a witness."
"No. I can't do that."
"Then how can I use it? I can't explain where it came from without exposing you. I can't submit it as evidence with a chain of custody that traces back to your father's safe. The glove might be proof, but in the eyes of the law that case is closed."
Natalie looked at him. "As is the Carter Lyle case. But you believe he didn't do it, don't you?"
"How do you know that?"
She didn't answer.
The forest was quiet. A boat’s engine growled from somewhere across the lake.
"Look, Natalie. While I appreciate you coming forward with this, it really doesn't change anything between you and me. If anything, it just proves to me that..."
"I just wanted you to know that I'm with you." Her voice softened. "That you mean something to me."
"Even if it meant seeing your father put away?"
She looked off again.
Noah smiled, shaking his head. "That's why you brought this to me. Isn't it? If you had just told me where it was and we raided his home, the connection would be there. But without it being found there, or you stepping forward as a witness, I doubt this will be admissible, no matter whose DNA is on it. Luther would stay out of prison and..."
"You would have answers," she said. "Isn't that what you want? Isn't that why you keep asking me about my father?" She paused. "I didn't have to give you that. I just wanted you to know that I care. About you. And..."
She brought a hand up toward his face. He caught her wrist, gently, and lowered it.
She nodded. Understanding. Not surprised. She'd known before she came here how this part would go. She stepped back and opened the door of the Aston Martin.
"Good night, Noah."
