stench of smoke and burned plastic hung in the air. Becca coughed to clear her lungs. Bending down, she brushed some debris aside.
Colby edged closer. “What did you find?”
“Glass shards.”
“An overhead light fixture perhaps,” he mused.
“Maybe, but most lights are opaque or frosted.” She glanced at an opening in the nearby wall. “Guess what used to be here?”
Colby stepped back to view the entire room and realized where she was headed. “The front door.”
“That’s right. Flanked by panes of clear glass.”
Colby knew the significance of finding the glass within the house. “If the panes had blown with the explosion, the shards would be outside the footprint of the structure.”
“But they’re inside,” she said, her face drawn. “The shattered glass makes me think someone else was in the apartment. Someone who had broken one of the glass panes to gain entry into the apartment before the explosion.”
“Ralph Arnold had a key to the unit.” Colby glanced again at where the front door had been. “If Arnold noticed the broken window, he may have entered the unit to determine what had happened and inadvertently surprised the intruder.”
“And was killed for that reason,” Becca added. “Then the perpetrator turned on the gas. The explosion covered up any evidence he left behind.”
“Evidence and a dead body. But if that’s the case, then why was the perpetrator here in the first place?”
Becca didn’t want to share her suspicions with Colby. She wasn’t ready to discuss her past and the man she had run from years ago.
Had Jacob Yoder found her? If so, he’d entered the vacant apartment earlier in the day and had holed up until she came home from work and eventually headed to bed.
The project manager had surprised Jacob, but Arnold wasn’t the target of last night’s explosion.
Becca was.
FOUR
Becca was eager to find something—anything—to refute her theory about being the target of last night’s explosion. If only she could uncover incriminating evidence in the project manager’s trailer that would point to his involvement in an illegal operation. Drug smuggling, embezzlement, even human trafficking. Bottom line, she needed a motive for his death that would draw attention away from her.
She and Colby arrived at the trailer and were joined by two officers from the Freemont Police Department. Wearing vinyl gloves, they searched all the logical places where a perpetrator would hide anything he didn’t want the police to find.
When their search proved futile, Becca turned to more ingenious hiding spots, but even then she found nothing that seemed questionable.
If she couldn’t uncover evidence relevant to a crime, her initial assumption about Jacob Yoder being alive might prove true, which made her even more determined to keep looking.
After searching Arnold’s bedroom, she pounded her fist against the wall.
“Take it easy, Becca,” Colby cautioned from the hallway.
Undeterred by his comment, she tapped again. “Hear that hollow sound? It could be a secret hiding compartment.”
Brody ran his fingers over the walls and stood close enough for her to notice his aftershave. She took a step back, needing to keep her focus on the search instead of his strong hands and the heady scent that wafted around her.
Eventually, he shook his head. “The wall’s secure. No cubby holes. No secret hiding spots. Let’s keep looking.”
He was right, of course, yet she was frustrated by the fruitless search as well as her less than professional response to Colby’s nearness. She moved into the living area, forcing her thoughts back to the case. Nothing could be ruled out at his point, but even the idea of a drug deal gone south seemed remote.
The trailer had been in pristine condition when they first arrived. Neat and tidy with a number of scrapbooks containing pictures of Mr. Arnold receiving awards from his superiors. Religious books were stacked on the coffee table, as well as a scattering of pictures of his wife and kids, all of which indicated that he was a salt-of-the-earth type of guy. A well-worn Bible lay on the couch as if he’d read scripture before he had left for work.
More than likely, Arnold’s death was a wrong-place, wrong-time incident. Making his rounds last night, he had seen the broken windowpane and entered the BOQ to check it out, never expecting the perpetrator to be inside. Instead he should have called the military police on post and asked them to investigate.
As Colby drove them back to post, Becca kept her eyes on the road ahead instead of on him. She was becoming much too interested in Colby, and instead, she needed to come up with a logical reason for the initial break-in. She quickly narrowed it down to two options. Either the killer entered the empty BOQ because he wanted a place to hole up overnight, or he was there to do her harm.
“You’re quiet.” Colby broke the silence. “Want to share what you’re thinking?”
Exactly what she didn’t want to do.
She tried to act nonchalant. “Just wondering about the killer.”
“Anyone giving you a hard time recently?” He flicked a sideways glance her way. “We make enemies in this business. Wilson said as much last night. Is there someone who has a beef with you? Someone you sent to prison and now he’s out? Even an old boyfriend who wasn’t happy when you dumped him?”
“No old boyfriend.”
Colby nodded as if relieved, which made her smile.
“That’s one down,” he said. “Anyone grumbling about being set up or complaining you pushed too hard?”
“Probably everyone I’ve arrested.”
“Do you remember anyone who was more vocal than the rest, more agitated, more out to seek revenge?”
She shook her head. “No one comes to mind.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She straightened her skirt, still frustrated with her own response to his nearness. “You sound as if I’m under interrogation.”
“Of course not. It’s just—” He tapped the steering wheel. “I get this feeling you’re holding something back. Is there anything you’re not telling me that might have relevance to this investigation?”
If only she could tell him about Jacob, but an investigation depended on facts and not some pie-in-the-sky suspicion that a buried killer could come back to life.
Becca had worked hard to get to this point in her career and still walked a tight rope to fit in with a predominantly male work group. She didn’t need to spout nonsensical supposition.
“As
