Page 159 of Between Regrets and Promises

Bending down under the tape, I walk in and cross the room toward the corner and see the faint smudge of blood on the wall.Greg’s brows pinch together. “How the hell did you seethatin a picture?”

“It stuck out like a sore thumb, but there used to be a chair and a lamp here. It wasn’t in any of the other photographs, only that one. The accident happened at night, and the lighting wasn’t the best in here when they were called in to process the scene.”

I can tell by the way his mouth falls open that he’s impressed. Moving closer to the wall, he’s mere inches from the small smear. “It’s definitely a partial fingerprint. There’s no doubt about it.”

I stand over him. “I wonder if it’s enough for the system to scan in.” We don’t always need a full print to get a match with our technology, but only when it’s the right part of the print. There have been many times it hasn’t been enough, and the whole case fell apart.

Smiling, he opens the kit and pulls out his brush and powder. Jerad was right. Greg knows what the hell he’s doing and takes his time, not rushing. Now, I’m the one who’s impressed.

“Good work,” I tell him after he gets it onto his tape sample.

“So what happened here?” he asks after putting his supplies back in his kit.

“Lover’s quarrel, they suspect. Her boyfriend has an alibi and was conveniently with friends out of town, but he has a record of abuse, so he could easily be lying. There’s no proof it was him, but the girl’s roommate said he had a temper.” Talking about it makes me think of Sophie and everything she went through with Weston. This could’ve been her fate if he hadn’t been stopped. My jaw clenches thinking about it.

“So they let him go after questioning because there wasn’t enough evidence to keep him?” Greg asks, but I have a feeling he already knows the answer to that.

“Absolutely. And from what I’ve learned, men like that do it again and again until they’re caught.” Or brought down, but I’m not going to open that can of worms with him today.

We lock the door as the manager instructed, and we continue our conversation as we walk toward the truck. “How much longer do you have until you’re finished with school?”

“A year left of grad school.” He groans.

I’ve been there. I lived that life.

“It’ll fly by,” I tell him as we drive to the office.

Once we’re back, Greg and I give the fingerprint tape to one of the forensic scientists in the lab, Monica, who agrees to process it as soon as she can. She’s swamped with a million other things, but we give each other shit regularly and always do favors for each other. I let Jerad know we’ve returned and move on to my next case, though I can’t seem to stop thinking about this poor young woman. I go back to her files, read the witness statements, and look at all the evidence collected. Perhaps I’m jaded, but I think it’s more than obvious the boyfriend is lying.

“Innocent until proven guilty, my ass,” I whisper under my breath, hoping this fingerprint comes through, and we can find out who’s responsible for this girl’s death.

Sophie comes to mind again, so I text her.

Mason

Thinking about you! Hope you’re having a good day.

Sophie

Weird, I was just thinking about you too, but only because your underwear were mixed in with my clothes.

She sends over a pic of my boxer briefs lying next to her sexy little panties. Mmm. Hot as hell. Is she trying to kill me?

Mason

Stealing my underwear now? My T-shirts weren’t enough?

I’m messing with her, which she knows. She takes my shirts, and I pretend it doesn’t feel like a knife to my heart that I can’t be the one wrapped up in her.

Sophie

You know it! Better keep an eye on your jeans. They’re next.

Mason

I’ll keep that in mind.

Sophie

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