Page 114 of It Runs in the Family

“You must have a pretty low opinion of me,” I grumbled.

“The opposite,” Boone said. “You seem too sharp to be wastin’ yourself on jobs like that.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, especially since Granny had pretty much said the same thing last week. “Well, I’m not doin’ either of those things now since I got fired, so who knows where I’ll end up.” Time to change the subject. “What do you make of the woman wearin’ an old Caleb’s Diner shirt?”

“Hard to say. It sounds like it could have come from anywhere, but if she worked here, she either did so the year between you quitting and Donna starting, or before you worked here.”

“Which would have been over four and a half years ago,” I said. “How old do you think she was?”

“Young,” he said, his gaze on the front door. “She couldn’t have been more than her mid-twenties, although looks can be deceiving. Especially after a body’s been sittin’ for a while. But say she was twenty-three, she would’ve been eighteen or so when she worked here.”

“Caleb doesn’t like to hire teens,” I said. “He said they were unreliable.”

“So, she likely never worked here.”

“Guess so.”

“But like I said, death can change a person’s appearance. Especially if they’re out in the open long enough to bloat.”

Nausea roiled in my gut. “Six hours,” I said quietly. “They thought she’d been dead for six hours.”

He turned to me. “What else did you hear?”

“That she had bruising on her wrists and neck. And she didn’t have ID.”

A pensive look filled his eyes. “I wondered about the last part since your cousin was in here asking about her work history and didn’t have any pictures to show. He wouldn’t want to flash a photo of the body yet.”

“What do you make of the bruising?” I asked.

He hesitated. “Bruising on her wrists suggests she was restrained.”

“And her neck?”

“You already know, Iris,” he said quietly. “But even if they strangled her, the fact that they shot her and there was a blood trail on her forehead suggests she didn’t die from strangulation.” He paused. “The blood trail and pool of blood under her head suggest she was shot there on the side of the road.”

I didn’t say anything. I kept seeing my own vacant eyes, the same hole oozing blood in my forehead. If I stuck with Boone, could he prevent that? Or would sticking with Boone make it happen?

“You okay?” he asked, worry in his voice.

“Yeah. I just can’t believe that woman was alive last night and now she’s dead.”

He reached over and took my hand, giving it a squeeze.

I met his intense gaze.

“My job is tough,” he said. “The only thing that makes it better is when I find the bastards who do the horrible things and make sure they’re locked up for good.”

He looked and sounded exactly like a cop right then. I couldn’t keep waffling over whether or not I believed him. I had to trust him despite my concerns.

“Then let’s help put Dario Voss away,” I said.

A determined look filled his eyes. After a second, he asked, “Did they say anything else?”

I tried to remember the conversation. “I met one of the deputies who was at the crime scene at my cousin’s place on Sunday night. He was a real asshole, and he’s not my biggest fan.”

Boone’s body stiffened. “Did he threaten or hurt you?”

“What?” I asked in confusion. “No. He was rude and dismissive, and I called him out on it. Anyway, he was talking bullshit to the other deputy this morning. Saying the woman probably mouthed off to her man and he offed her to shut her up. The way he said it made it sound like he condoned it.”