Ian smiled at their bantering as he and Malone walked to the house.
“They’re a cute couple,” Malone said.
Ian nodded but didn’t want to get into a discussion about couples. It could lead to the growing feelings between him and Malone when he had a job to do. He knocked on the door and stood back, enjoying the soft breeze playing over his skin and the warm sun on his face.
Peck answered the door in his mobility scooter. “I see you got quite the group here.”
“Are we good to go out to the garage, or do you want to take us out there?” Ian asked.
Peck tilted his head. “Don’t mind you going out there, but I’d like to watch those CSI people at work.”
“Okay, sure,” Ian said, surprised at the older man’s interest. “As long as you stay on the sidelines.”
He frowned.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Peck,” Malone said. “I’m sidelined too. We can keep each other company.”
He smiled up at Malone. “Then lead the way, missy.”
They started for the garage, and Ian waved the team on. They would want to move their vans closer to the building to keep from hauling equipment. He got the garage door open and waited for the two vans to back in and park.
Ian introduced his team to Peck, and then Deborah from the state lab introduced herself and Vance, the criminalist. He nodded but didn’t seem very interested in the group.
Ian liked that about Vance. He was there to do a job, and he was focused on his mission. Didn’t mean Ian wouldn’t take a look at the car again while he was here. He trusted the techs, but he trusted his own eye better for finding things that could relate to a homicide.
“Let me get photos before anyone enters the garage.” Vance had already slipped into the Tyvek suit, booties, and gloves, and he slung a camera strap over his head before moving toward the garage.
Ian went to the box of gloves and booties on the back of the van, then stood next to Malone and Peck off to the side of the open door. He watched Vance snap his photos.
“Be sure to get close-ups of the tie rods when you’re done with the wide-angle shots,” Emory called out.
“Not my first rodeo,” Vance yelled back. After he’d taken his wide-angle pictures of the car, he looked back. “You can begin now, but don’t touch anything before I shoot it.”
Ian looked at Emory and Deborah. “I’ll do a quick search of the vehicle again in case I missed anything the other day. Let me know if I’m in your way.”
The DNA scientists nodded, and he slipped on the booties and gloves.
Ian stayed well away from Vance, who squatted by one of the questionable tires. He angled his camera but frowned, then lay down on his back to scoot under the car.
The convertible top had been retracted, allowing Ian to lean over the crushed driver’s side door, where it was obvious that no one could have survived the mangled wreckage. He felt around the leather seat that had been pushed into the back. He slid his hands in the crease but didn’t find anything. He moved on to the back seat. Same thing.
Ian quickly slipped around the vehicle before Deborah or Emory swooped in. He checked the creases in the back seat, then on the passenger side and found nothing. The seat and floor mat had been shifted back, so he lifted the mat and felt under the seat. His fingers touched something, and he pulled out a torn off slice of paper. The edge looked as if it had been ripped from a thread-bound book, not a notepad. Before he did anything more with the paper, even turn it over to look for any writing, he called out to Vance to take a photo.
He stomped over there. “What do you have?”
Ian explained.
Vance sighed. “I would’ve found that in due time.”
“I know,” Ian said but didn’t apologize for looking.
Vance snapped pictures. He grabbed a plastic tent number and scale from his bag and set them next to the paper and took additional pictures. “I’ll get an evidence bag.”
Ian flipped the paper over. In neat writing someone had printed the wordsDetective Wisniewski 12:30. Ian took his own picture, then left the garage to talk to Malone.
He motioned for her to join him out of Peck’s earshot. “I remember the accident report said your parents crashed around eleven-thirty a.m., but do you know where they were headed?”
“No one knew where they were going. Just that they were heading west.”
