Page 13 of Liar's Point

She nodded.

Fuck.

Emmet pulled out his phone and checked it. Why hadn’t someone told him? Specifically Nicole. The autopsy was hours ago, and she should have called him by now if there were any surprises. They made a point of keeping each other in the loop.

He drained the drink and pitched the can. Then he grabbed a notepad off his desk and entered the conference room, where he found the chief and every other detective seated around the table. Even Adam McDeere was there, and he hadn’t even officially made detective yet.

Emmet took one of the few empty chairs and looked at the screen on the wall. He recognized one of Miranda’s photographs from last night. It was a picture of the Subaru taken from the inside passenger side. Emmet had been crouched beside her, shining a flashlight through the windshield when she’d taken the shot.

“So, how do you explain the writing, then?” Owen asked.

Emmet glanced across the table. Owen sounded testy, and he had his arms folded over his chest. Maybe he believed the ME had gotten it wrong.

“Yeah, I thought she wrote ‘Goodbye’ across the inside of the windshield in lipstick,” Adam said, gesturing at the photograph. “You’re saying someone else wrote it?”

“I didn’t say that at all,” Nicole replied, clearly defensive. “I’m just sharing what Dr.Bauhaus told me. Which is that—in his professional opinion—this death is a homicide.” She turned to Adam. “And anyway, it was ChapStick, not lipstick.”

“Same difference,” Owen said. “It reads like a suicide note. You know, ‘Goodbye, world’ or something like that.”

“Well, maybe the message is more like ‘Goodbye, bitch’ instead of ‘Goodbye, world,’ ” Nicole countered. “Maybe it was some kind of revenge killing, and the killer wrote it. Or, I don’t know, the scene was staged.”

“But it was a Xanax overdose, correct?” Owen said.

“That’s correct,” Nicole said. “According to the preliminary screening.”

Owen leaned forward now. “Well, Aubrey Lambert’s name is on the prescription bottle. Are you saying this revenge killer staged that, too?”

“I have no idea.” Nicole looked at Brady. “I’m just relaying the pathologist’s conclusion. Which is that we should be treating this as a homicide, not a suicide or an accidental overdose.”

“Based on one tiny needle mark in the back of her arm, which she could have made herself?” Owen asked. “I mean, I’ll grant you, it’s a weird angle. But we’re talking about someone who does yoga, right? Wouldn’t we expect her to be flexible?”

Nicole jutted her chin out and crossed her arms. She didn’t like people putting her on the spot. Or questioning her boyfriend’s judgment.

Emmet scanned the faces around the table. All looked skeptical, including Brady, who typically put a crapload of confidence in Dr.David Bauhaus. Everyone knew the deputy medical examiner was wicked smart.

The mood in the room got tense and quiet. No one wanted this to be a homicide investigation. They were just coming off a major case, and the entire department was running on fumes after spending the last ten weeks helping a multiagency task force close in on a sex-trafficking ring in the Rio Grande Valley. Operation Red Highway had been a major success and resulted in some high-profile arrests. But their understaffed detective squad had been working evenings and weekends, and people were tapped.

Emmet took in everyone’s expression. Owen and Adam looked cranky, Nicole looked pissed off, and Brady looked grim as the ME’s conclusion sank in.

The chief turned to Emmet.

“Glad you could join us.”

He nodded. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You talked to the family this morning? Her parents in Houston?”

Emmet nodded again. “Had a video interview with them at ten. They’re in shock.” He glanced at Nicole. “Said they can’t imagine their daughter taking her own life.”

The chief shifted his attention to the screen where the crime scene photo was displayed.

Crime scene. Emmet was already rethinking everything and wishing he could turn back the clock. He thought about the countless pieces of evidence they had already missed out on by making assumptions.

Never assume.

It was so basic. The mantra had been drilled into him, over and over, by every mentor he’d ever had, including Brady himself.

The chief studied the photo silently. He smoothed a hand over his gray buzz cut. Then he turned to Emmet.

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