Page 8 of Little Hidden Fears

“Hang on a second. There’s one other thing I should mention. The murderer left fingerprint indentations on Noelle’s neck. Based on the size, I’m leaning toward a man, not a woman. If I’m wrong, and a woman is responsible, her hands are larger than most.”

I turned. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Any time. And hey, while I have you here, you ought to take a look at a few of the autopsy photos, so you can see the fingerprints for yourself.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

He reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a file folder, and then handing it to me. I spent the next several minutes going over the photos. Silas was right. The marks on Noelle’s neck were significant in size.

“I was told the husband was upstairs when Noelle died, and their five-year-old daughter was in her room.”

Silas bowed his head, huffing out a heavy sigh. “Always sad when a child loses a parent.”

“It is. Have you met Noelle’s husband?”

“I have. He was at the house, talking to the police when I showed up.”

“How was he?”

“Frantic. Broken up. Seemed genuine, though I suppose that’s not my expertise. It’s yours.”

One last thought crossed my mind.

“I’m guessing, given there were so many people in attendance at the engagement party, it must be difficult for you to sort out fingerprints,” I said. “Bet they were everywhere.”

“Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s like finding a matching brick in a stack of similar bricks. Could take months to sort them all out, which brings me to an even better solution.”

“What’s that?”

“You could do us both a favor—find the killer and save me the trouble.”

He was right.

Months to sort through the plethora of fingerprints he’d collected at the crime scene was far too long.

I needed answers, and I needed them now.

CHAPTER 4

I was sitting in Chief Foley’s office, explaining to him and Detective Whitlock that I’d be investigating Noelle Winters murder.

After I finished talking, Foley perked up and said, “I had a feeling you’d wind up working this case.”

“You did?”

“Noelle’s pesky friend keeps dropping by, trying to get us to cough up information.”

“Can you blame her?” I asked.

“Blame her? No, I can’t say I do,” Foley said. “But the woman’s been a thorn in my side, a thorn I’m hoping you’ll manage to keep out of my way.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“She cornered me at the gas station,” Whitlock said. “Felt like I was being shaken down. I don’t know what she does for a living, but if she’s not a lawyer, she’s missed her calling in life.”

Whitlock laughed.

Foley did not.

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