‘Preliminary, possibly not helpful. Got it. Go. No, wait. Let me put you on speaker first. That way nothing gets lost in the translation.’ She pulled the phone from her ear, tapped a button, then leaned it against the whiteboard. ‘Okay, you’re up.’

Sandra tapped Cord’s arm and pointed to one of the yellow legal pads in the center of the table, mouthing a ‘thank you’ when he scooted both the tablet and a purple pen in front of her. The way her hand whistled across the page reminded Alyssa of her college years when she’d tried to get every single word down that the professor spoke. Thank goodness her roommate had surprised her with a mini recorder and saved her wrist.

The others noticed, too. Hal and Joe both boasted proud smiles as if they’d taught her themselves. As for Cord, he watched momentarily, nodded once, and set his own pen back on the table, content to listen to Lynn and allow Sandra to do the writing. Still, Alyssa would bet a week’s supply of her favorite java that he’d be double-checking to make sure she got all the pertinent details.

‘Well, Lydia Kensington’s death was clearly from the nine-millimeter bullet to her head,’ Lynn said.

This wasn’t case-breaking info for Alyssa, and by the lack of reaction on everyone else’s faces, it wasn’t too earth-shattering for them either. Assuming the medical examiner wouldn’t have wasted her time calling unless there was something more important to share, she waited.

‘Cause of death for Gabriel Kensington came in the form of stab wounds to his chest, in particular, the one that pierced his right lung. However, when I got him on the table, I noticed that the majority of his defense wounds were on his hands and forearms. Now, when a person is stabbed that many times, some of the knife wounds glance off the body as the victim is fighting for his or her life. With Mr. Kensington, there were none of those types of wounds. All the stabbings were pretty straightforward, in and out, center mass with a few exceptions below the ribcage and into the stomach.’

Speaking of stomachs, the contents in Alyssa’s swirled in a violent rush as she envisioned Grace’s brother lying on the cold kitchen tiles, not yet dead, helpless to do much more than raise his hands in defense.

‘So, you might be wondering, why would someone just lie there and allow himself to be stabbed to death? Even in shock, a person’s natural instinct would be to fight back. But in Gabriel’s case, it’s entirely possible he was barely conscious when the knife attack began. And that, Detective, is because he’d also been shot with one nine-millimeter round in the back.’