Tension hangs heavy in the cold, cramped interrogation room as Sergeant Rachel Bower waits for the medical examiner's results. The tests could either clear Jake Ryan or establish his guilt. Despite the mounting evidence, her gut tells her the case was far from what it seems and that Ryan is being framed. Crossing her arms, Rachel shifts impatiently.
"Almost done, Sergeant," Sharon says, glancing up. She adjusts her glasses and then shakes her head. "There's no gunshot residue on his hands or clothes."
"Thank you," Rachel replied.
As Sharon packs her kit, she adds, "Oh, one more thing, May Winter's time of death was between twelve and one. Body temperature, rigor mortis, algor mortis, and stomach contents confirm it."
"I was working on the Bronson case then," Jake interjected.
"I'll have someone verify that," Rachel says. She and Sharon are heading for the door when Kirk enters the room.
"The front door guard confirms Jake came in at eight and didn't leave until after three. The surveillance footage supports his claim."
"I told you—it wasn't me," Jake smiles wryly.
Sitting across from him, Rachel pulls out her notebook. "You didn't kill her, so who would want to frame you for her death?"
Jake stares into the distance before his eyes widen. "Nadia Baker, my ex. She and I didn't exactly part on good terms."
Rachel flips open her notebook. "Tell me about her."
Uncomfortably shifting in his chair, he lowers his head and says, "I didn't mean for it to happen; neither of us did."
Rachel scoots closer. "Go on."
"Nadia caught May and me making out on the couch." With a disheartened look on his face, he glances up and adds, "We both had a little too much to drink and..."
Rachel leaned forward. "What did Nadia do?"
"She threatened to kill us both. Luckily, her partner, Bruce, talked her down."
"When was this?"
"About a year ago. I moved out the next day, and we haven't spoken since."
Rachel frowns. "We need to keep you somewhere safe until we can find her."
"She shouldn't be difficult to find since she works here at the station."
"You're telling me she's a cop?"
Jake nods. "She graduated from the academy in 2022."
Rachel pushed away from the table. "I'll be right back."
Rushing to the captain's office, Rachel taps on the door and steps inside.
Joe glances up from his computer. "Do you need something, Sergeant?"
Closing the door behind her, Rachel crosses the room with urgency. "We may have a problem, Joe. Jake Ryan claims one of our own, Nadia Baker, killed May Winters and is trying to frame him. He says she even threatened to kill them both before."
"You're sure he isn't the killer?"
"He doesn't have gunshot residue on his hands or clothes, and his alibi has been verified for the time of the murder."
Joe leans back in his chair, running a hand through his thinning gray hair. "We're going to need more than his word to tie her to this."
"I'm working on it. I just thought you should know."
"Keep me updated."
"I will."
Rachel hurries to her desk and quickly dials the lab. "This is Sergeant Bower. Did you find anything on the parking lot's security tapes? Did you run the suspect through facial recognition? Can you compare Nadia Baker to the woman in the footage? ... I see. It doesn't match? Thank you for trying."
Exhausted, Rachel slumps into her chair.
"What was that about, Sergeant?" Jerry asked.
"I thought we had the shooter," Rachel muttered. "I really did."
The captain entered their workspace. "Nadia Baker is transporting a prisoner to Oklahoma today. She won't be back until late this afternoon."
"Forensics ran facial recognition on the woman in the parking lot, but can't come up with a match" Rachel explains.
Jerry glances at his wilting salad, sighs, and tosses it in the trash. "I've been looking into Emily's charities. Although the others contribute to several organizations, there's no overlap between theirs and hers. So, I requested a list of volunteers to see if there's a connection. The New Jersey Police Department called. They've found five bodies and think there are more."
Rachel checks her watch. "I'll head down to forensics to see if they found anything else." Leaning closer to Jerry, she whispers, "Kirk ate all the candy in your drawer."
"What?!" Jerry jerks the drawer open. A mouse leaps onto his lap. Screaming, the detective bolts out of his chair, his arms flailing. "Get it! Get it!" he yelled, climbing on top of his desk.
Kirk, smirking from across the room, winks at Rachel. "I'll take care of it if you agree to a truce."
"A truce, huh?" Jerry clutches his chest.
"Jerry!" Rachel exclaims, rushing to his side.
"My heart…" Jerry whispered dramatically, collapsing onto his desk.
"Call for help!" Rachel orders as she loosen Jerry's tie.
Kirk's face pales as he fumbles for his phone.
Jerry grabs Kirk's wrist, sits up, chuckling. "You'll never out-prank this old prankster, son."
Rolling her eyes, Rachel shakes her head. There is never a dull moment with you two around." She mutters, walking away.
An overwhelming scent of antiseptic hits her as the elevator's metallic doors slide open. Feeling faint, Rachel grabs the railing for support. A little warning would've been nice, she thinks, coughing. The doors slowly close. The air became tolerable again. This time, I'll be ready. Covering her nose and mouth with her shirt, she opens the doors again to find the forensics lab bustling with activity. To her right sit three glass enclosures: toxicology, DNA testing, and trace evidence analysis. Across the room is digital forensics. Ballistics and a crime reenactment area are in the back. I don't know what we'd do without them. Rachel marvels.
Bill steps into the hall holding a report in his hand. "I was just about to find you," he says, pulling his shirt over his nose. "Sharon must be in a cleaning mood today."
"It's like this a lot."
"At least once a week," Bill says, coughing. Stepping inside a small enclosure, Bill straightens his shirt, then hands Rachel a report. "I found a couple of things. The footprint at the Morgan place matches a police-issued boot, a woman's size five, which would make the shooter no taller than 5'3."
Rachel sighed. "Well, that narrows it down a little."
"Sorry I couldn't be of more help."
"Thanks for trying," Rachel says, heading to the elevator.
"Sergeant, wait!" Jack calls out, sprinting toward her. "I got into Becca's cloud account, and you'll never believe what I found."