“Excuse me.” Lionel snapped some pictures while walking sideways. “Scouting around, I found a whole storage shed with silver spikes, rods, and handcuffs, all stamped with the Volk Mining logo. It’s over by the little hut—I guess you could call it a guardhouse—by the front gate.”
What the heck? Mia started to move back toward Jeremiah, and Kurt stopped her. “I’ll interview him again. Formally.”
Lionel nudged her elbow. “Mia, I need you to step a little to the left. I have to get a picture of the body with this angle and lighting.” His hair was messy, as if he’d been called while still in bed. His eyes were also bloodshot. If she remembered right, he never really took care of himself when they were on assignment and rarely remembered to eat. If she had more time, she’d cook him something, but her plate was full right now.
Claire nodded at the assembled flock members on the other side of the gate. “We’re going to need to interview everybody.” She pulled a notepad from her back pocket. “That silver collection is weird.”
Kurt nodded. “I agree. Let’s start with the people who knew the victim best and work from there.” He glanced down at Mia. “I’m removing you from this investigation. I assume you understand why.”
Mia didn’t like being yanked off a case, but she did understand in this situation. Her connection to Seth was too close, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the case. Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see that the warrant for Bobbi Trienzi’s apartment had been signed. “Okay. I’ll go check out Trienzi’s home and report back. Just let me know what you find here.” She turned on her heel and headed back to the gate. “Jeremiah, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Brother Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed. “Then you should go talk to your fiancé, shouldn’t you?”
Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t the person interviewing him. “I think you have plenty to discuss with Agent Colbey.” She motioned for Claire to follow her. “You’re with me, deputy.”
The building supervisor,a thin man who had to be in his early nineties if he was a day, let them into Bobbi Trienzi’s Seattle-based apartment. The smell of sulfur instantly assaulted Mia, and she gasped, stepping back against Claire and gagging.
“Hey.” Claire steadied her with both hands on her arms and pulled her gently to the side. She edged inside and then turned her head and coughed. “Holy crap. What is that?” She partially turned and pulled her weapon free of her holster. “Stay here, Mia.” Sucking in a deep breath, her cheeks puffed out, and she pivoted to enter the darkened living room, obviously holding her breath.
The super backed away, hands up, his faded blue eyes wide. “Did something die in there?” He covered his nose and mouth with a gnarled hand.
“Horrible,” Lionel muttered, slinging his camera around to his back and tugging free his service weapon. For the first time in their professional relationship, he ducked into a possible crime scene before Mia could.
She gagged again. Oh, this was beyond horrible. She was going to puke.
The super turned and ran back down the hallway toward the elevator. “I’m outta here. I’ll be in the office if you need me.” The door opened, and he jumped inside.
“Bedroom and lone bathroom are clear,” Lionel called out.
Relief filtered through Mia’s body. She sucked in more air and withdrew her gun, forcing bile down her throat. Normally, she could handle smells, even in the morgue, but this pregnancy had made her much more reactionary. Even so, she was going to do her job. Unlike Claire, she was trained in dealing with crime scenes.
“Living room and kitchen are clear. It’s okay,” Claire said, opening light gray blackout blinds that shielded a sliding glass door. “Nobody is here.” Light instantly spilled inside, illuminating dirty clothes, mostly empty takeout cartons, and well-read newspapers covering the one sofa and two chairs. Discarded shoes littered the dusty wooden floor. “The smell is rotten eggs.” She pointed at a bowl on the counter and then looked at the dirty dishes stacked high in the sink and spread across the granite countertop. “I thought this woman was a nurse?”
“She was.” Mia stepped gingerly over a pair of tennis shoes that smelled like they’d stepped in dog poop more than once.
Claire reached for the offensive bowl, opened the door, and shoved them onto a small table set between two lawn chairs on the tiny balcony that faced another brick building. “She was a freaking slob, then.”
Mia barely kept from covering her nose, striving to at least look professional. They were on the seventh floor, and the smell of those eggs probably extended throughout the entire complex. She surveyed the scene, noting the randomness of all the crap. It didn’t look like the place had been tossed, and it was too difficult to determine if there had been a struggle. It was highly unlikely, considering the furniture was all in place. Plus, the victim’s car had not been found in her assigned parking space or anywhere around the complex.
Lionel emerged from the bedroom, snapping pictures on his way.
Mia motioned for him. “Everybody out. The crime scene techs will need to go through all of this...” Was there another word for crap? Either way, it all had to be carefully cataloged, tested, and fingerprinted. Every instinct she owned screamed that Trienzi had been taken after work and not here.
Lionel finished photographing the scene. “My gut says she wasn’t taken here.”
Claire stepped carefully over the mess, obviously mindful not to disturb anything. “This place might’ve dissuaded a kidnapper.” She wrinkled her nose, looking professional in her deputy uniform—even her shoes were polished. “Do we do anything?”
“No.” Mia backed out of the room, her stomach still feeling like it had been turned inside out. “I just wanted to clear the place and get a quick glance since the crime scene techs are a couple of hours out. At least.” She’d seen all she needed.
Claire reached her, her soft gaze appraising. “You look green.”
Mia felt green. She leaned toward the young wolf shifter to whisper, “Can you smell anything that would indicate a crime? Any blood?”
Claire lifted her head and inhaled. “No,” she whispered back. “There’s no scent of blood or even human sweat. Sometimes, I can smell that, especially if the sweat is ripe with adrenaline or other hormones. I don’t think a fight occurred here.”
It might be good to have a wolf shifter or two on her team. Mia nodded. Todd had stayed back at the newest crime scene, and she made a mental note to double-check anything he might’ve noticed throughout the day. It bothered her that she couldn’t interview The Flock members, and the more she thought about it, the more Kurt’s reasoning ticked her off. But at the end of the day, he was the agent in charge, and he called the shots.
For now, she’d find out everything she could about nurse Bobbi Trienzi. She strode down the hallway toward the elevator as Claire kept close. “We had the locals canvass the neighbors, and nobody heard anything. Most of them had seen Bobbi at one time or another, but nobody knew her. Not at all.” Even the super had been shocked, noting that Bobbi had received flowers several times during the last month or so but he’d noted that Bobbi hadn’t known the sender, as Mia already knew from the FBI’s earlier report.
