Page 6 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee
“Quadrants one, two, three and four all clear,” West called out.
Next, he began scouring the area of the building assigned to him. Rex sniffed through the debris. The bomb had detonated in the building’s center, where the worst damage was, but shrapnel traveled far. Patterns of the damage indicated how powerfulthe explosion was. Fortunately, no one had been injured.
Rex nosed beneath a piece of wood and sat. West hunkered down and examined the evidence.
Caked with dust and soot, it was heart shaped and partly bent. A woman’s gold compact, with a butterfly design. West photographed the item and then studied it. It was covered with a film of white powder.
Bomb residue.
A woman had beenhere. Possibly slept here, or at the very least, stayed here for longer than a few minutes. He started to put a marker by the place where it had been, and hesitated.
Maybe Demi Colton hadn’t planted this bomb, but this suggested she might have worked with the unknown suspect, the unsub. Or another woman had.
His cop instincts tingled. The RRPD assumed he was simply an FBI canine officertemporarily assigned to Red Ridge while one of their officers recovered from an injury.
No one on the force knew he was secretly investigating to see if the RRPD and Chief Finn and the other Coltons were deliberately dragging their heels on the Groom Killer investigation. If this compact belonged to Demi Colton, it might vanish before it could even be processed as evidence.Werethe Coltonsprotecting their own? He didn’t know. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if his own secret fiancée was keeping her half sister’s whereabouts to herself. Better to be safe and bring the compact back to the district office to test it.
Looking around to make sure no one saw, West bagged the evidence and carried it separately instead of dumping it into the official evidence collection bag he carried.
Why blow up an abandoned building? What was the deal with the overkill? Was someone testing out how to cause as much destruction as possible?
Was it Demi Colton trying to diffuse attention so she could target her next victim without the cops on red alert for her?
He couldn’t remain there staring at the debris. He had to do his job. An RRPD cop in a hazmat suit came over as West removedan item from his kit.
“Nice.” The officer whistled. “You feds have the funding for the latest equipment.”
West looked at him. “You’re contaminating my crime scene.”
“Chief sent me over to see if you need help.”
“I don’t.”
Grunting, the cop left. West switched on the ion mobility detector and swept his assigned quadrant. The machine could pick up trace amounts of chemicals,helping him determine what kind of bomb had exploded.
The unit sucked in air to test for traces of chemicals. It didn’t take long.
Swearing under his breath, he switched off the machine. Just as he’d suspected, but the job required details, more details and more details.
Returning to the command post, he told Finn Colton what he’d found. Then West glanced at the man standing just outsidethe crime scene tape, staring with avid interest at the bombed building.
He jerked a thumb at the man. “Curious bystander?”
Finn shook his head. “Witness. He’s already been interviewed. Drove right past before the bomb exploded.”
After the chief summarized what the man had said, West decided to talk to the witness himself. Experience taught him it was best to get firsthand informationhimself, before memories grew dim. People’s detailed memories got muzzy real quick. Besides, if someone saw something linking Demi Colton to this explosion, and that interview got buried...
West peeled off his gloves and chucked them into a biohazard container, heading for the middle-aged man.
Slightly chunky, with quick, eager green eyes, the man looked around as if this were entertainmentarranged just for him. West knew the type—self-important, glad to help, wanted to get his name in the paper. Still, he took a moment to study the witness. Though West had been in town less than a month, he didn’t recognize him.
West introduced himself and scribbled the man’s name—Santo Nestor. A cigarette dangled out of the corner of his mouth. He puffed constantly.
Nicotine addict.
“What were you doing at this end of town?”
Keeping his voice mild, he studied the witness’s eye movement. The man stared earnestly back at him.
