She attacked her keyboard with renewed zeal.
National crime databases like the National Crime Information Center and the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program could be accessed only by law enforcement. If someone in the sheriff’s department was performing a NCIC or ViCAP search for Olivia, he could be fired—not that Sharp was going to turn anyone in. Curious, he tried to casually peek over the top of her computer.
She tilted the screen down. “I will share the information. I cannot share the source.”
Sharp resumed his pacing. “Now what?”
“We wait.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Sharp huffed. “I don’t like waiting.”
She sipped her wine and licked her lips. “How about some vegetarian chili? I promise it’s not poisoned.”
Sharp hesitated.
She sighed and ladled chili into a bowl. “You might as well eat. Those return emails might take a while.”
“All right.”
Olivia handed him the bowl, and he sat on a stool and spooned chili into his mouth without tasting it, his mind on the case. She ate standing, one foot propped on the opposite knee like a stork. A ping sounded from her computer, and she tapped a few keys.
Excitement lit her eyes. “Last summer, the body of twenty-six-year-old Adele Smith was found in the woods in Redhaven. Adele had been beaten and raped. She had bruises around her neck consistent with choking, but the cause of death was a lethal combination of zolpidem and alcohol.”
Sharp’s blood chilled. “Since Redhaven is within Randolph County, the same medical examiner’s office would have handled both Shannon’s and Adele’s autopsies.”
“And Shannon’s case was similar enough to Adele’s to be flagged by the ME.” Olivia scrolled on her computer. “Adele went missing after a big music festival. It was a huge outdoor event, so no surveillance cameras, lots of drugs and alcohol, and a few thousand out-of-towners. The Redhaven police got nowhere with their investigation. They found DNA from multiple sources on her body, but CODIS didn’t turn up any matches.”
The Combined DNA Index System (CODIS) was the national database of DNA collected from known offenders and recovered from suspects, victims, and crime scenes.
“Whoever attacked her wasn’t in the system. Adele could have been his first victim.”
“Possibly.” Olivia nodded. “The sheriff’s department and Redhaven police now suspect that Shannon’s and Adele’s murders could be related.”
“Both women were raped, beaten, choked, and had zolpidem in their systems.” Sharp slid off the stool, deposited his bowl in the sink, and resumed his pacing.
“But how are their murders connected to Noah Carter’s?”
Shannon was connected to Noah through Justin O’Brien. But telling Olivia that felt like an overshare, so Sharp kept his mouth shut.
Her computer pinged again. Olivia narrowed her eyes like a cat that has just spotted a mouse. “I just received the surveillance footage from Beats for the night Shannon disappeared.”
Sharp rubbed his palms together. “Now you’re talking. We can see who interacted with her.”
He moved to go around the island so he could see her computer screen. Maybe she’d be distracted and he could sneak a peek at the name of her source.
She closed her laptop. “I can show the videos on the television. It’ll be easier to see. The screen is larger.”
“Good idea,” Sharp conceded.
She carried her laptop and wine into the next room, a cozy den. She set down the computer and glass, then turned on several lamps.
Sharp sat on the sofa. He leaned his forearms on his knees and waited. And sulked. Being on the favor-asking end of their relationship sucked.
Settling in a chair, she opened her laptop and angled it so that he couldn’t see the screen.
“I thought we were working together,” he said, frustrated.
“You’re holding back information from me.” Olivia arced a stubborn brow. “Don’t try to deny it. I can see your mind spinning, and yet you say nothing.”
“I have client confidentiality concerns.” Moral superiority lifted Sharp’s chin.
“And I have confidentiality concerns of my own. I do not have excellent sources because I’m careless with their identities. If you want to work with me, you’ll have to give me the same amount of professional respect you demand for yourself.”
“You’re right.” Sharp leaned back. She wasn’t going to put up with any of his bullshit. He was going to have to let go of his need to control everything, or he was going to end up with nothing. “I apologize.”
With a stiff bob of her head, Olivia started the first video. “This is the feed from the camera that covers the tables next to the dance floor.”
Nothing but static showed on the TV screen.
Sharp tossed her a good-faith tidbit. “The same camera wasn’t functioning the night Noah was killed.”
“The club is new. Glitches are to be expected, but it’s disappointing.” Olivia tapped on her keyboard. “Let’s try the video of the club entrance.”
Though slightly grainy on the big TV screen, the image of the front doors of the club began to roll.
Sharp settled back, his irritation with Olivia gone as he focused on the faces of the people arriving at Beats.
His instinct, honed by many years of investigation experience, began to tingle. Thirty minutes into the video, Sharp’s spine snapped straight.
“Isn’t that Noah Carter?” Olivia asked.
“Yes.” Sharp noted the location on the video. “Looks like the whole gang was at Beats that night, just like they said in their initial interview. There’s Noah, Chase, Isaac, Adam, and bingo—Justin.”
Sharp pulled out his phone and dialed Lance, but the call wouldn’t go through. Sharp sent him a text instead.
Justin had crossed paths with Shannon at Beats the night she went missing.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lance steered the Town Car around a deep pothole in the road leading to Justin’s house. He was unable to avoid the next crater, and the car bounced over it. The car’s undercarriage scraped on a rise in the dirt, and he wished his Jeep’s windshield were fixed. Tall trees lined both sides of the road, casting deep shadows in the fading daylight.
Lance switched on the headlights. “I never like the coincidence of two murder cases so close together, but I never really expected to discover a link this strong between them.”
In the passenger seat, Morgan stretched her neck. “Me either, but for the first time, I’m encouraged about Haley’s case.”
Lance turned onto a skinny gravel driveway and drove a hundred yards. The headlights swept across a barnlike building. Time had faded the exterior to a color between brown and gray. Light seeped through blinds covering the windows, and a Toyota sat in front of the sliding double doors.
Lance parked next to Justin’s vehicle. “Looks like he’s home.”
They stepped out of the car. Lance doubted that the sun penetrated the thick forest even in the daytime. In early evening, damp cold hung in the air. Moss grew between the trees, and a large patch of mold crept up the side of the building.
Morgan rounded the front of the vehicle and stood next to him. She hunched her shoulders against the chill. “I supposed artists like solitude.”
“Serial killers like privacy too.”
Morgan started up the walk, a loose row of broken slate that led from the parking area to the door. “The mere fact that Justin and Shannon were both at the inn at the same time does not make him a serial killer.”
“You’re right,” Lance said. His phone buzzed with a text. “It’s from Sharp. He says Justin was definitely at Beats the night Shannon was killed. Now that puts him at the top of our suspect list.”