“ArlingtonCounty,” she corrected.
Lyle’s cheeks pinked. “Right. I knew that.”
“I’ve got about fifteen minutes, so ask away.”
“I was given permission to shadow a criminal investigator. Rather than ask a bunch of stagnant questions, I was hoping to follow you around this morning.”
Earth, swallow me now.
“Have you toured the precinct?”
“Nope.”
“You can ask me some questions while I take you around.”
Lyle asked a lot of questions. How is evidence collected? Where is the evidence held? How long does it take for a coroner’s report? What’s a typical day in the life of a homicide detective? She kept her answers high-level and short, while Lyle shoved his phone in her face to record her answers.
As Emerson brought Lyle around, she now had a valid reason for popping downstairs to forensics. The team wouldn’t have any information on April Peters, but it didn’t hurt to be seen there. She believed the squeaky wheel got fixed faster.
Once there, she introduced Lyle, then made her way to the crime scene photographer.
“I took bets you’d be by this morning.” The tech glanced at his watch. “You’re late. I pegged you for getting here thirty minutes ago.”
“I’ve been working with the reporter.”
“I won twenty big ones,” the crime tech said. “And to show my gratitude, I’ve got these for you.” He opened a drawer and handed Emerson a folder. “Crime scene pics, from last night.”
“I owe you a beer.” She flipped open the folder and a slash of pain cut through her. The photos of April Peters were downright creepy.
Lyle peered over her shoulder. “That doesn’t look good.”
On a grunt, she closed the folder. “Thanks for these,” she said to the crime tech.
In the hallway, she asked Lyle who he wanted to question next.
“Can I hang with you a little longer? I signed an NDA and won’t write about anything I see. I’m interested in how an investigator approaches their cases, especially from the beginning.”
“Each case is different,” Emerson explained as she ushered him toward the stairs.
Lyle stopped in front of the elevator.
“I’m walking the three flights,” Emerson said. “You can meet me upstairs.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
They returned to Homicide and she retrieved a folder from her desk before heading into a conference room. She tacked up the photos from the first murder on a bulletin board, then did the same for the second. Emerson noted the similarities and differences in her victims. At some point, she realized Lyle was standing inches away from the bulletin board, staring at a close-up photo of Gloria Stanton, the first victim.
“What caught your attention?” Emerson asked.
“What’s that discoloration around her neck?” Lyle asked.
“She’s been strangled. Autopsy report is due back any day, so my answer is unofficial.”
“How do you stay detached from all of this?”
“Who said I did? These people’s lives have been cut short. They have families, friends. It’s tragic.” She jotted down a few notes for follow-up.
“How do you find the killer?” Lyle asked.
