Matt thanked Reynolds and Waring for their time, stepped out into the hall and emailed Catherine all the information he had at that point, including confirming that the MO held: they were looking for the Triple Killer. He then texted Ryder to send Catherine the Liberty Lake case files with photos. She hadn’t confirmed that she would assist, but Matt knew she would. She just needed the push. Seeing the crime scene, looking at the victim, would be that push.

Matt had sympathy, but it was wearing thin. If Catherine hadn’t been a friend—if her husband wasn’t as close to him as his own brother—he wouldn’t have even had sympathy to begin with. What did that say about him?

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the case and what needed to be done. It was daunting.

Maybe he would ask LAPD Detective Kara Quinn for an assist. If he could get over this uneasy feeling that he shouldn’t trust her.

7

Spokane
11:15 a.m.

Detective Andy Knolls introduced Matt to the head of the Spokane CSI unit, Miles Jordan. As soon as the thirty-five-year-old expert opened his mouth, Matt realized Jordan had been born a crotchety old man.

“First LAPD, now the feds from DC? What the hell, Andy?” Jordan said. He acted more high-strung than angry.

“Detective Quinn found the body. Los Angeles isn’t involved in your investigation.”

“Detective Quinn wants my fucking job,” Jordan grumbled. “‘Did you look in the lake?’ she asks. ‘Did you collect a sample of this blood?’ she asks. Do I look like a fucking idiot?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Andy responded. “She doesn’t know you, Miles. You know how people are down in Cali. All rushing around and rude. If there was evidence at the crime scene, you got it.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jordan said. “I think I might have something for you, Andy.”

“I knew you would.”

Andy was an odd duck. He had the aw, shucks small town cop shtick down, but Matt suspected he was a lot smarter than he acted. One kiss-ass comment and Miles Jordan had calmed down.

Matt decided to let Andy run with it—Andy knew what Matt needed, and Jordan seemed to respond better to him than to an outsider.

Jordan tapped on a computer keyboard. The large monitor came to life. He typed as fast as he talked and crime scene photos popped up on the screen, one after the other. Matt wanted to look more carefully at them, but Jordan click click clicked them away until he stopped at one of the clearing where Kara Quinn thought the killer had cleaned up. He zoomed in.

“I suppose because that Los Angeles cop is originally from Liberty Lake she’s not as stupid as I’d normally think,” Jordan said. “These are deep footprints on the edge of the lake, fifteen feet from the body. The water eroded them some, and they’re gone by now, but if you look carefully you can see the curvature of a foot. It’s clear they were made coming out of the lake. If you’re just going to wash your hands, you’d face the lake, right? But coming out?”