Page 54 of Forever Gone

“You decided that yourself?”

“I brought scene gear and the case notes. I didn’t touch anything before you arrived.”

Connor moved between them without making it obvious. “Arnold’s waiting.”

Selena could have sent Kelly back to the field office. Doing so in front of deputies and neighbors would turn a professional disagreement into a public one. More important, a second woman lay dead inside the house, and Kelly was now standing ten yards from the door.

“Stay behind the scene path,” Selena said. “Do exactly what Matt tells you once he gets here.”

Kelly nodded. “Understood.”

Arnold Shaw stood beneath the porch overhang, holding the tape high enough for them to pass. His usual eagerness had vanished. A pale line crossed his forehead where his hat had rested before he removed it.

“Who found the body?” Connor asked.

“The boyfriend.” Arnold lowered the tape behind them. “Name’s Oliver Smith. He called at eleven forty-seven. Chuck was closest and got here first.”

“Damn,” Connor said. “I knew him when we were younger. He still drinks in Roy’s bar every now and then.”

“What do we have in terms of the victim?” Selena asked.

Arnold nodded. “Female, likely the homeowner. Ruth Keller, forty-two. Chuck checked for signs of life from the doorway and backed out. We locked the scene down.”

“Anyone else enter?”

“Oliver forced the front door. Chuck went as far as the study threshold. Nobody else.”

Selena studied the damaged frame. A wedge of wood had splintered beside the deadbolt, and the metal strike plate hung from one screw. The door stood open, revealing a narrow hallway and part of the living room.

“Where’s Oliver?”

“In another room with Chuck. I didn’t want him sitting out here with half the street watching.”

That made sense provided Chuck had kept him away from the study and any possible evidence.

Connor went first. Selena followed, with Kelly behind her.

The living room was small but orderly. A knitted throw had been folded over the sofa, and three framed landscape prints hung above it. An open book rested beside a pair of reading glasses on an end table. Nothing appeared disturbed.

Deputy Chuck Danner sat on the edge of an armchair near the front window. His solid frame filled most of it. Gray marked the hair at his temples, and his uniform shirt pulled slightly across his middle as he leaned toward the man on the sofa.

Oliver Smith appeared to be in his mid-forties. He was tall but narrow through the shoulders, with a sunken chest beneath a plaid work shirt. Dark hair receded from his forehead in uneven points. His skin carried the weathered color of someone who spent much of his time outdoors, though at that moment all warmth had drained from it. Both fists were pressed between his knees. His breathing came in short, uneven pulls.

Connor crossed the room.

“Oliver.”

The man raised his head.

Recognition broke what remained of his control. “Connor.”

Connor crouched in front of him. “Take a breath for me. Slow it down.”

“I saw her.”

“I know. Breathe in through your nose.”

Oliver tried. The first attempt failed halfway. Connor remained there and counted quietly until the next breath held.