Gabe looked like he wanted to say “I told you so,” but he didn’t say a word.
“I’m glad that all checked out,” El said, but it still left an uncomfortable feeling in the air, and they worked in silence, the only sound the water slapping the boathouse door in rhythmic waves.
Wasn’t hard to imagine the killer stabbing Mason then slipping the boat out and escaping from the scene. “Anyone see blood spatter or pools?”
“Negative here,” Ulrich said, edging along the wall toward the garage door.
“Same,” Gabe replied from the other side of the boat cradle.
“Hold up.” Ulrich squatted down. “Shiny object in the water. Looks like a Zippo lighter.”
“Don’t leave it submerged,” El said, excited over a potential lead. “Take a picture first, then bag it.”
“Roger, that,” Ulrich said, digging out his phone.
Wishing she’d spotted it herself, El pushed through the water to him as he fished it out. “Engraving on the front.”
She extended a gloved hand. “Let me see.”
Ulrich studied it a moment longer, then reluctantly handed it over.
“One word. CHAMP in all caps.” She flipped it over, opened the lid, and checked the bottom. “That’s all. Chrome’s worn like it was carried in a pocket for years.”
“Assuming Mason is the deceased, he was in his late sixties. If he smoked, it could’ve been his for decades.”
“Mind if I have a look at it?” Gabe asked.
El slashed through the frigid water and handed it to him. “You think it belonged to the deceased or our killer? Or even someone else?”
“Not sure. Too many possibilities.” Gabe turned it over in his gloved hand. “Could be a nickname.”
“CHAMP?” El continued to stare at the lighter. “Sounds like a boxer. Or a football player.”
“Or a military call sign.” He tapped the lighter. “Or someone’s reminder to keep winning or fighting. Like a personal motto.”
El frowned. “All plausible.”
Gabe handed it back to El. “That’s what makes this tricky. It’s a lead, but a very vague one.”
She exhaled, tension coiling in her chest. “So many possibilities for one word.”
Gabe nodded. “Exactly, and the right one will tell us everything we need to know.”
She passed the lighter back to Ulrich and got out her phone. She brought up Faye’s contact and typed,Any sign Mason smoked?
Her reply came fast.No nicotine stains on his fingers or teeth. No smoker’s wrinkles. No cigarettes or lighter in pockets. Lungs will tell for sure.
Keep an eye out.El pocketed her phone and updated the men, then turned to Gabe. “Please have your team search ‘CHAMP’ linked to Mason or his associates.”
“On it.” His thumbs flew over his phone’s screen.
This could be the break she needed. Sure, it might be a dead end. The lighter could belong to anyone, even drifted in with the water. But if it was tied to another suspect, that person might desperately come looking for it. Even the killer, desperate to avoid any trace leading back to them.
One thing her law enforcement career taught her for sure—desperate people did desperate things.
El shoved hard on Mason’s front door, and the stench hit her full in the face. She stepped back, bumping into Gabe. He caught her by the shoulders before she could stumble.
“I smell it too,” he said, his hands still warm on her shoulders.
