Page 57 of Fatal Fame
Thorne leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "Blood evidence from the crime scene came back from Dr. Chambers. Pierce's blood type was confirmed at multiple locations around the cabin and van. But we also found a second blood type, proving our suspect was injured during whatever happened up there."
McKenzie removed his glasses and cleaned them with the care of someone buying time to think. "Should be simple enough then. We check the blood types of the remaining team members, and we should have this wrapped up by the end of the day."
Noah snorted, a sound somewhere between amusement and frustration. "That requires a warrant. I wish it was that simple."
"It is, though," McKenzie insisted, replacing his glasses. "I mean, what other way can we put someone at the scene? The hotel's security cameras have been malfunctioning for weeks, so there's no way to verify whether Marcus returned to his room or accompanied Pierce to the cabin. Given their public argument, logic suggests Marcus wasn't with Pierce, but if disagreements were a regular occurrence and they still worked together, maybe he did go along."
Thorne frowned, her fingers drumming against the desk in a rhythm that suggested deep thought. "But why kill Pierce and dump his body behind the Hale house? That's not random placement."
"Exposure for the case?" McKenzie suggested. "Generate publicity, create controversy, drive up listener numbers for the podcast."
Noah set down his coffee cup and moved closer to the evidence wall, studying the crime scene photographs with fresh eyes. "Or to make it look like someone connected to the original Hale murders was responsible. It would certainly be convenient,a team comes to town investigating a dangerous cold case, and one of them dies. Most people would assume the death was related to the decade-old killings. But what if it wasn't?"
"You're suggesting one of the Cold Trail team killed Pierce?" Thorne asked with a note of skepticism. "Why? What would they gain from eliminating their own colleague?"
Noah turned back to face his partners; his expression troubled. "That's what we're trying to figure out. Financial disputes, creative differences, personal vendettas. Look, podcast teams aren't immune to the same interpersonal conflicts that destroy other businesses. Success breeds resentment, and Pierce wasn't exactly known for sharing credit or treating his colleagues as equals."
McKenzie leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his weight. "Or maybe it was someone connected to the old case, plain and simple. They didn't want Pierce sniffing around, asking questions that might expose secrets they've been protecting for ten years."
Noah shook his head, returning to his coffee in a futile attempt to jumpstart his brain. "If that was the case, the person would have eliminated Dr. Evelyn Cross long ago. She's been knee-deep in the Hale case for years, developing theories, conducting interviews, building a comprehensive file on the murders. Why kill Pierce but leave Evelyn alone?"
"Maybe she didn't get close enough," McKenzie offered. "Maybe Pierce uncovered something specific about Torres or someone else that crossed a line Evelyn never approached."
"Maybe," Noah said, but his tone suggested he wasn't convinced. He winced. The coffee was terrible, but it was hot and caffeinated, which made it marginally useful for the long day ahead. "We need to dig deeper into the team dynamics, financial arrangements, any legal disputes or personal conflictsthat might provide motive for murder. And we need to verify everyone's alibis for the time period when Pierce disappeared."
The war room fell silent except for the electronic hum of equipment and the distant sound of radio chatter from the dispatch center.
The morning suncast golden light across High Peaks Lake, transforming the water into a mirror that reflected the surrounding mountains with crystalline clarity. Hugh Sutherland's house sat on a small rise overlooking the lake, its wraparound porch offering panoramic views that had drawn visitors for decades. The patio where Mia sat with her grandfather faced east, catching the morning light.
Mia appreciated the invitation, though she suspected Hugh had ulterior motives beyond simple family bonding. Her grandfather rarely did anything without purpose, and his interest in her involvement with the Hale investigation had been both encouraging and confusing. Still, the news of Pierce Landry's murder had changed everything, transforming what felt like an academic exercise into something genuinely dangerous.
"You know you're always welcome here," Hugh said, refilling her coffee cup from a ceramic pot that bore the logo of some long-defunct fishing lodge.
The revelation of Pierce's death had hit Mia harder than she'd expected. Not devastating, she barely knew the man, but deeply disturbing in a way that made the investigation feel suddenly real. The abstract concept of a ten-year-old cold case had become a present-tense threat that had already claimed one life and might claim others.
"I'm curious about what you've learned," Hugh said, settling back into his chair. "Any developments I should know about?"
Mia pushed scrambled eggs around her plate, trying to organize thoughts that felt scattered by recent events. "Ugh. The death of Pierce has my father riding my ass, saying I can't go near the case anymore. He's treating this as vindication of his position that I should stay away from anything connected to the investigation."
Hugh nodded thoughtfully, his expression neutral in the way that suggested he was withholding judgment. "It is dangerous work, Mia. Most of these crime podcasters don't understand the real risks involved in stirring up old secrets. They approach these cases like academic exercises without considering that the people responsible for these crimes are still out there, still capable of violence."
"But there's no escaping that reality," Mia said, setting down her fork with more force than necessary. "Signing up for any form of law enforcement or private investigation means accepting danger as part of the job description. You know that better than anyone."
"True enough." Hugh's smile carried the weight of decades spent in uniform, countless shifts where he'd left home uncertain whether he'd return. "Your grandmother worried every day whether I'd come home safe. She'd pack my lunch and kiss me goodbye, but I could see the fear in her eyes. Law enforcement is dangerous work, but it's also in the Sutherland blood. Your father knows that. He sees your potential, recognizes that you've got the investigative instincts that make for good police work."
Mia felt a surge of gratitude that someone in her family finally understood her motivation. "Then why is he so determined to keep me away from this case?"
"Because he's a father," Hugh said simply. "He'd be remiss if he acted like he didn't care about your safety. Your father has lost too many people—his brother, his ex-wife, close friends, people he loved deeply. The thought of losing you would send him over the edge, Mia. He's not trying to control your career choices; he's trying to protect the most important thing in his life."
Mia nodded, taking a mouthful of eggs that had grown cold while they talked. The logic was sound, even if the protective impulses felt suffocating. "I understand his perspective, but even if I backed down from this case and eventually joined the FBI?—"
Hugh bristled, his coffee cup pausing halfway to his lips. "Hold on a moment. The FBI? I thought you were considering the Sheriff's Office?"
Mia realized she'd stepped into conversational quicksand. She'd been avoiding this particular discussion for months, navigating around family expectations without directly confronting them. "Grandfather, I know you want everyone to follow in your footsteps and join the Sheriff's Office, but like my father, I need to find my own path. You had yours, and I need to discover mine."
"That's exactly what your father said when he joined the State Police," Hugh said, his tone carrying a mixture of pride and disappointment that Mia recognized from similar conversations with Noah.
"I'm not going to have an argument about career choices," Mia said, waving off the discussion before it could gain momentum. "My point was that even if I joined the FBI or the Sheriff's Office, I could die on my first day on the job. My father can't be there to protect me from every possible threat. This investigation is no different from any other dangerous situation I might encounter as a law enforcement officer."
