Chapter 12
The police station at Red Ridge felt impersonal, brisk, filled with efficiency. Yet it was quieter and less suffocating than the atmosphere at the Colton ranch.
Finn had sequestered her in a small conference room while he went to find the sketch artist. West accompanied him.
She was alone with her thoughts. Memories.
Heart racing, she closed her eyes, trying torecall every last detail of the killer’s face, what he’d been doing the day her world blew up and killed Tia. Smells helped, as well. She could recall the delicious fragrance of the casserole she’d held, hoping it would please Tia. Such a difficult client.
Always demanding.
Cigar smoke.
Snatches of argument... No, that was the previous day. Tia, on the phone, yelling at someone asQuinn quietly walked into the office.
You’ll never have it, Larson! And I’ll never partner with you. That would be a marriage made in hell!
Hold on to the image of the killer...that smirk as if he owned the world, the cowlick in front sticking out, she reminded herself.
The door opened and Finn walked inside with West and a tall, lanky man bearing an artist’s pad. The lanky man introducedhimself as Derek, the police sketch artist.
Quinn told West and Finn what she remembered of the conversation. She gave an anxious glance to the artist. “Are you certain this will work?”
He gave an encouraging smile. “I’m going to ask a series of questions, and you answer them as best as you can.”
West sat at her side, holding her hand. His palm was warm, strong and comforting as shehaltingly explained the man’s features. Round chin. Thin mouth, smirking. That cowlick.
“I remember the hair because of mine.” Quinn pointed to her curls. “It looked like he’d had a bad hair day.”
During the process, her brothers Shane and Brayden walked in. She barely noticed them, for all her concentration centered on the memory regained.
Thirty minutes later, a stranger stared ather from the sketch pad.
“I’ve never seen him before the bombing, not that I remember and by now I would remember him,” Quinn told him. “But that’s the man who was there in Tia’s office before the bomb went off.”
“I have no idea who he is.” Finn glanced at West. “Do you?”
“No. I’ll send this through the facial recognition database, see if we get a hit,” West said. “Then once the DNAanalysis is complete, we’ll run it through CODIS.”
“What’s CODIS?” she asked.
“The FBI’s DNA database for violent offenders.” West’s expression tightened. “We could be looking at someone with no priors.”
Finn nodded. “Which will make him harder to ID. I’ll bet he’s not local. I’ll make a copy, get this on the wire.”
“I’ll show it around to my contacts,” Shane offered, followinghim out.
Derek went with them, leaving her with Brayden and West.
West’s expression darkened. “He’s probably connected some way to the Larson brothers. My gut tells me they had something to do with Tia’s death.”
“Probably,” Brayden agreed. “At least this is something that can’t be pinned on Demi. She didn’t do this.”
Tension curled in her stomach as West’s expression narrowed.She didn’t know what Demi was capable of, but everyone seemed to blame her for everything.
“How do you know, Brayden?” West asked.
“My sister doesn’t know anything about making bombs,” Brayden shot back.