Page 77 of Fatal Fame
They approached Adelaide's office, its door marked with a simple placard reading "Medical Examiner." Noah knocked twice and entered without waiting for a response.
"Hey, Addie."
Adelaide Chambers looked up from her computer terminal, her hair pulled back in its characteristic bun, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. At fifty-two, she'd been doingthis job longer than most people had been alive, and her competence showed in every gesture, every measured word.
"Noah, oh, and Mia." Her warm smile took in the cast and bruises with professional assessment. "Mia, how's your arm?"
Mia raised the cast slightly. "It'll survive."
"Well, good news and bad news." Adelaide gestured toward two chairs positioned in front of her desk, though neither of them sat. "The bones you gave me, I was able to confirm the DNA is one and the same. They belonged to Travis Rudd. The DNA also matches the DNA found under Jacob Hale's nails. So you have your killer."
Noah felt a mixture of satisfaction and relief wash through him. After ten years of speculation and dead ends, they finally had scientific confirmation of what had happened in Rebecca Hale's house that terrible night. Travis Rudd, the obsessed former student, had graduated from inappropriate attention to murder.
"And the bad news?" Noah asked, though he suspected he already knew.
"There were so few bones that it's hard to tell how Travis died or if there was any other DNA evidence that could link someone to his murder. So you solve one case and have another. Of course, there's always the possibility he killed himself."
Mia shook her head with immediate certainty. "No."
Adelaide raised an eyebrow at the conviction in her voice. Noah found himself studying his daughter's reaction, noting how quickly she'd dismissed the suicide theory. Her mind was clearly working through scenarios, possibilities, connections that went beyond what the evidence currently supported.
"So it looks like your daughter and Gideon managed to finally provide answers to a decade-old case," Adelaide continued, her tone carrying genuine admiration. "Well done, Mia. Must feel good."
"I guess." Mia's response carried none of the satisfaction Noah would have expected. Instead, her frustration was barely concealed, as if the answers they'd found only opened more questions she couldn't yet voice.
Adelaide's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Your father must be proud of you. Right, Noah?"
Noah glanced at Mia and placed a protective hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Always."
"Addie," Mia said suddenly. "Was the only DNA evidence submitted by the Sheriff's Office the DNA found under Jacob's nails?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I just thought they had a latex glove. The official report mentioned a latex glove."
Noah rolled his eyes. They were back to this again, the missing evidence, the conspiracy theories, the suggestion that law enforcement had somehow failed or covered up crucial information. "If it was there, they would have tested it, Mia."
"The question is why isn't it there?"
Adelaide looked between father and daughter, sensing the undercurrent of tension that had nothing to do with scientific analysis. "Things have a way of getting lost over ten years. It happens. It's not ideal, but it happens. It doesn’t suggest a cover-up. Even if it was there, I imagine the DNA from the glove would match Travis Rudd if his DNA was found under Jacob's nails."
"Yeah, maybe." Mia's tone suggested she wasn't convinced. "But it makes you wonder why."
"Why what?"
"Someone would remove the glove and leave it behind?"
Adelaide exchanged a glance with Noah, her expression shifting to something between amusement and concern. "I'm telling you, Noah, the kid's a chip off the old block. Watch out, she'll take your job." She turned away with a chuckle, but hernext words carried professional weight. "Though she has a good point. If it existed and was in the report, the evidence log should reveal that. You might want to check that."
"Yeah, I'll do that."
As they prepared to leave, Noah found himself both proud of Mia's analytical thinking and worried about where it might lead her. She had the instincts of a natural investigator, but those same instincts could create problems if they led her to see patterns that didn't exist or conspiracies where there were only bureaucratic failures.
After Luke’s death, he’d gone down that rabbit hole. Hell, he was still down it.
They headed out of the room in silence, the weight of new information and unresolved questions hanging between them. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Noah could see his daughter's mind working, processing, planning her next move.
As they waited for the elevator, he studied her profile again. The bruises were already beginning to fade at the edges, but the intensity in her eyes had only sharpened. She'd been through trauma that would have broken most people her age, yet here she was, still pushing for answers, still refusing to let sleeping dogs lie.
