Despite it being the weekend, she had a lot of work to do, so she stopped by the precinct to check out the key to April’s apartment, then drove to the apartment complex. Once inside, she spoke with April’s next-door neighbor. The chatty woman knew very little.
As she made her way to April’s apartment, her phone rang with an incoming call. “Detective, Easton.”
“Hey, Detective, it’s Lyle Barnham,DMVMagazine. How ya doin’?”
She was hoping Lyle had forgotten about her. “Hi, Lyle.”
“If you’re working today, any chance I could join you?”
Refusing him wasn’t gonna fly. She’d already gotten her hand slapped for that. “I’m at a crime scene.”
He gasped. “There was another murder?”
“No, I’m returning to a crime scene of one of my victims. Do you want to meet me?”
“Sure.”
She gave him the address and hung up. Before entering April’s apartment, she covered her hands and shoes in disposable gloves and footies. While the tech team had already collected their evidence, she didn’t want to contaminate the scene, especially if she found a reason to call them back. She went straight into April’s bedroom. Her gaze fell on the now empty bed, the vision of April’s body still fresh in her memory. A chill ran through her.
After searching through the bureau drawers, she found nothing besides clothing, all folded neatly. There was nothing in April’s night table drawer that caught her eye, either.
Her phone rang. “Hey, Lyle. Are you here?”
“I’m outside,” he replied. “Can you come down?”
Emerson wanted to leave him out there.
“Never mind,” Lyle said. “A resident let me in. Where you at?”
She was waiting in the hallway when he sauntered in her direction. “Hey, Detective.”
“Put these on.” She handed him gloves and shoe coverings.
“I’m not gonna touch anything,” he said as he pulled on the protective gear.
“Good idea.”
“Why are you here?” he asked.
She was relieved he’d brought along a pen and a notebook. She couldn’t deal with his phone shoved in her face while he pummeled her with questions.
Once inside, she closed the door behind him. “I’m looking for any evidence the crime techs might’ve overlooked.”
She returned to April’s bedroom and continued searching. To her surprise, Lyle didn’t bombard her with questions. He stood quietly in the doorway. Emerson searched every pocket of April’s clothes, but came up empty. She had no luck in the second bedroom, either.
“What crime was committed here?” Lyle asked when Emerson entered the living area.
“Remember the photos you saw of the woman who’d been murdered?”
“Yeah.”
“She lived here.”
“So tragic,” he said. “Her family must be devastated.”
“They are.”
“Mind if I ask you a few questions about that?”
