Page 55 of Chilled

“I’ll review Dr. Drummond’s file again for any clues. Maybe he dated Stinson and picked her up at a bar or something. Although, that doesn’t explain Michelle Carmichael. She seemed much older than Jason,” Brenna said. “It could just be the news articles that link them.”

“Having been the computer lab technician at the college, he knows his way around equipment. He could’ve planted that device in Drummond’s office to start the fire. I just can’t believe he’d be stupid enough to leave a signature with the Ethernet cable.”

“He didn’t strike me as overly bright,” Brenna said. “Belligerent and hot-headed, yes. Calculating and sneaky...? I don’t know.”

“The victims could’ve known him through his work with the computer store. Maybe they trusted him enough to let him in.”

“He had a history of violent behavior.” Brenna shook her head. “I can’t see Dr. Drummond willingly letting him into her home. She was a smart woman and knew the risks.”

“You have a point, and her house was the least disturbed, like she knew who it was and trusted him.”

“I think we’re still missing something.”

“Is this a gut feeling, Jensen, or do you have something solid?”

“Gut.” She stood, needing to flex her muscles and clear her head. She’d gone too long with too little sleep. “Can we go back to the office and get my car?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you going anywhere without me.”

“I promised my sister I’d have dinner with her tonight. I don’t suppose there’s a chance you’d let me go alone?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Not a chance.”

Great. Dinner at her sister’s house with a man her mother would try to have her married to before the night was over. Maybe the flood would come and sweep her away before dinnertime. A flood sounded more palatable than any food served with a heavy dose of advice, topped with a heaping helping of why-can’t-you-be-more-like-Alice.

Sometimes, her mother’s disease really got Brenna down. But she couldn’t stop loving the woman who’d raised her, loved her and cared for her all her life. “The upside to having dinner at my sister’s is that she’s a good cook.”

“Good. I haven’t had home-cooking since the last time I visited my folks in Virginia.”

Brenna found herself wanting to know everything about this stranger she’d let into her bed and who would make inroads into her heart if she weren’t careful.

When she stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine, she stretched and turned her face to the sun, absorbing the warmth.

But no matter how rejuvenating the sun could be, too much of a good thing could be worse than winter. If the ground didn’t refreeze and the snow melting continued at its current pace, Riverton could be in deep trouble and even deeper water.

Brenna almost laughed at the irony. The longer they worked on the case, the more chance there was of the murderer making the list of victims deeper. The more she was around Agent Tarver, the deeper her emotions ran and the more likely it became that she couldn’t swim her way out of certain heartache. She almost laughed, but tears flooded her eyes, and she tripped on her way across the parking lot.

Nick’s hand steadied her before she wiped out in an embarrassing heap in the middle of a sludge pile of melted snow and dirt used to sand the icy streets.

Water ran through the parking lot an inch deep to the streets where it pooled at flooded storm drains.

What were they missing? What clues still remained beneath the surface?

As soon asNick entered the war room, he shot a question Paul’s way. “Anything on the Ethernet cable?”

“Dr. Drummond’s cable was still attached to the computer. The cable used to bind her wasn’t necessarily hers.”

“Think there’s anything on her home computer?” Nick hung his leather jacket on the back of a chair and pushed a hand through his hair. “What about a stalker on social media gone berserk or an email from her attacker?”

“I tried to get on. I could boot the computer, but I couldn’t get the Internet to connect to the WIFI to check social media accounts. Her personal email inbox, sent files and deleted messages, had all been cleared.”

“That’s strange,” Nick said. “What about the recycle bin or anything stored in the cloud?”

“Nothing in the recycle bin and, again...no internet connection to check the cloud,” Paul said.

“Right.” Nick’s lips pressed together. “Send the computer to the crime lab. They’re better equipped to recover data.”

“Already done. I sent a car to Bismarck an hour ago with the computer, monitor, keyboard and mouse.”

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