“I know. But I do know Clare went to the show. She raved about it. Maybe he went, too, thinking he’d see me. They meet, she ends up sleeping with him and gets pregnant. David circles back on New Year’s, and he finds her at Jo-Jo’s party. They fight. You said you only found Kurt’s DNA in her. Maybe this time she refused to have sex with David. She’d told me that night she’d decided she was only going to be seeing Kurt going forward. Maybe David got pissed over the rejection. Whatever happened, David lost his temper and strangled her.”

“You’re describing a crime of passion. Strangulation is very intimate and personal. But to strip her down and dump her body miles from where she vanished is calculating.”

“He cools off and realizes what he’s done. He might have lost it, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t want to go to jail for this.”

“Reasonable. DNA can prove if David impregnated your sister, but it doesn’t prove he killed her.”

“It, along with the picture, puts you one step closer.”

“All valid, but again not enough to get a warrant.”

She set her cup down next to mine, sloshing coffee on her hand, which she wiped away on her jeans. “But don’t you want to know if David was the baby’s father?”

“Sure, I want to know.” I could pull strings and get a discarded cup or bottle from David. Then a few more strings later, I’d have the DNA checked. “Ask your buddy Alan how a defense attorney would spin this in court. Two young adults have consensual sex, she gets pregnant, he never knows about the baby, and she tragically dies.”

“You know Alan?”

It had taken me a moment, but I had finally placed Alan. “He worked for a defense firm before joining the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office. We went head to head on a case three years ago, and ol’ Alan raised enough questions to plant a crop of reasonable doubt in the jury’s mind. And FYI, that was a rape and murder case.”

She sighed.

“Look, he’s a lawyer and was doing his job,” I said. “He’s on the Commonwealth’s dime now, but that doesn’t change the fact that all lawyers think alike.”

“Okay. He’s a lawyer. Not a crime.”

I scratched the side of my head, swallowing a favorite jab at lawyers. (If there’s a hell below . . .) “We’d have to prove David came to Richmond at least twice, found Clare at the party, and killed her. That’s hard to do in current cases. And don’t forget that Clare was dressed like you, and many at the party thought she was you. Her pregnancy might be irrelevant.”

“If you had to bet the farm, where would you put your money?”