“She’s in drawer three.”
“Beg your pardon, Doc, but she isn’t, I’ve checked. It looks like the cadaver the students were working on is in there.” He winced slightly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” He stood abruptly. “Sorry, Chief, I’ll be right back.”
Chief Walcott clenched his jaw and his fists impotently. Once again, they were at a dead end with no physical evidence. He didn’t even have a time of death to establish whether or not Olivia West had an alibi. Resisting the urge to slam his fist into the desk in front of him, his gaze fell on the two vials of blood.
Before he’d even registered what he was doing, his fist wrapped around one of them. Rolling it over in his palm, he checked the name on it. It was definitely Lucas Campbell’s blood. An idea began to form in his mind, and as much as he tried to resist it, it persisted, seemingly the answer to all his problems. It wasn’t ethical, but if it got the end results, what would it matter? If ultimately it saved more lives, it was the right thing to do. If luck wasn’t favoring him, then maybe it was time to make his own luck. He slipped the vial into his breast pocket and stood abruptly as Dr. Hughes shuffled back into the room, muttering something about unreliable students.
“I have to be on my way,” the chief told him flatly. “Let me know when you have the full autopsy report, and I’ll have one of my deputies run over and pick it up.”
“Will do. Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” he apologized.
“Don’t worry, Doc.” His mouth curved slightly. “You’ve been plenty helpful.”
Doc Hughes watched suspiciously as Chief Walcott left, trying to shake a strange uneasy feeling. Then he sat back down at his desk and picked up the notes he’d been working on, and the matter slipped from his mind.
Chief Walcott stepped out into the crisp cool air and glanced up at the sky. At least the rain was holding off for the moment. His gaze tracked over the street, and it seemed serendipity was smiling on him today, surely a sign that he was doing the right thing. He pulled back into the shadow of the building and waited, watching patiently as Olivia headed into the vet’s office holding what looked like a small golden colored puppy. Alongside her was the Beckett man again. He’d run checks on him, but he’d come up clean; still, he didn’t trust him. He was practically Olivia West’s shadow these days, and it just didn’t add up for him. They seemed awfully cozy for two people who say they’d not known each other long.
Shaking off the thought, he watched them disappear into the office and shut the door. Checking to make sure no one was watching, he crossed the road and headed over into the small parking lot located behind the vet’s office. The lot was quiet and secluded and not easily seen from the office. Even better, Olivia’s old car was parked furthest from the building under the shade of a huge old tree.
It was the perfect opportunity, but he knew he needed to be quick. Turning around, he headed back to his car to retrieve the items he would need. Mindful that he must not be seen, he was heading back to Olivia’s car within a matter of minutes. Removing the tire iron from under his thick jacket and with a quick tug, he popped the trunk easily. Working quickly, he removed the small vial of blood from his pocket and cracked the seal, tipping the contents inside the trunk and allowing it to seep into the interior carpet. Slamming the truck closed, he slipped the tire iron back under his jacket, threw the empty vial into a nearby dumpster and headed out, smiling to himself. Now all he needed was a warrant, and he knew exactly who to go to.
The drive out to Salem was quick, and he barely noticed the time passing. Ignoring the tourist areas, he headed to the richer, more influential part of town. Although he’d never visited before, he had no trouble finding the house he was looking for. Pulling up to the security gate, he pressed the button and waited.
“Hello?” the voice came in a buzz of static.
“It’s Thomas Walcott, here to see Judge Lloyd.”
The line went dead for a minute.
“Tommy?”
“Hello, Drew,” he replied carefully. “Are you going to let me in or not?”
The gate buzzed again and swung open. The chief drove in, following the neatly curved driveway up to the house. As he stepped out of the car, he looked up at the impressive three-story building with its whitewashed walls, and a slight stab of envy ran through him. Heading toward the door, he watched as it swung open, and a man with reddish-blond hair stood waiting.
“I’ll be damned, Tommy, it’s been years,” the man greeted and offered his hand.
“Yes, it has.” He shook his hand perfunctorily as he stepped up to the door.
“Well come in then,” Drew invited.
He followed him through to the study, taking in the expensive décor.
“It’s not quite to my taste,” Drew laughed. “But I’ve only recently bought this place, and I haven’t had a chance to redecorate yet. Scotch?” Drew moved to a decanter and poured himself a generous glass.
“No,” he replied bluntly. “I’m on duty.”
“Is this an official visit then?” Drew turned and took a sip, regarding Chief Walcott with amusement.
“I sent you a request for a search warrant on Olivia West’s property and car.”
“You did,” Drew agreed. “But after reading the file, I can find no reason to sign off on a warrant.”
Walcott’s jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed dangerously.
“Look,” Drew began, “we go back a long way, Tommy. I feel bad about what happened to James, and to Isabel, but I can’t, in good conscience, condone a search on Olivia West’s property just because we’re pissed at her dad.”
