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Hisphone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out. It was the police chieffrom Nevada. Jake answered quickly, his voice low and steady.
"Chief,what do you get on Magnus Weber?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Fiona as shecontinued searching for any clues they might have missed.
"Jake,"the chief replied, "two of my officers picked up Weber. But he's just adrunk. We have more than enough evidence to prove he hasn't left town inweeks--including surveillance footage of him at the liquor store justyesterday. There's no way he could've been in Portland to commit yourmurder."
"Damnit," Jake muttered under his breath. "You're sure about this?"
"I'mpositive," the chief replied. "Weber's a dead end."
"Okay.Thanks anyway." Jake hung up the phone, feeling his heart sink. He turnedto Fiona, who looked up at him expectantly.
"Didthey find anything?" she asked, her tone urgent.
"No,"he replied, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Weber's not ourguy."
Fionalet out a frustrated sigh. "So what now? We're back to square one?"
Jakeshook his head, his mind racing. Jake studied her face for a moment beforeoffering a reassuring smile. "Let's head back to the museum, Red. Maybe wemissed something."
Hereyes widened slightly at the suggestion, but then she nodded in agreement."Alright, let's go."
As theyexited the precinct, Jake couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for Fiona.She had put everything on the line for this case, and he was determined forthem to succeed. He knew they needed a break in the investigation, something topoint them in the right direction. But would that break come before it was toolate?
***
The sunwas sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the museum's marblefloors. Jake and Fiona entered the dimly lit traveling entomology exhibit, eachfeeling the weight of the unsolved case heavy on their shoulders. Glass caseshousing exotic insects lined the walls, and the air was thick with the scent ofold books and preservatives. In all honesty, Jake was growing sick of seeingthis place.
"Alex,"Fiona called out, her voice echoing through the cavernous room. The familiarfigure appeared from behind a display, his nametag glinting under the palelighting. He was one of the exhibit employees they'd talked to earlier.
"AgentTucker, Ms. Red," Alex greeted them, a hint of concern in his eyes."What brings you back here?"
"Time'srunning out for us," Fiona admitted, her gaze flickering over thedisplays. "We thought we had a suspect, but it turned out to be a deadend."
"Sorryto hear that," Alex replied, genuine sympathy in his tone. He hesitatedbefore adding, "You should know the exhibit is moving on to another towntomorrow."
Fiona'seyes widened in alarm. "Moving? But our investigation is stillongoing."
"Unlessyou have any evidence to prove one of the exhibit's employees is the killer, wehave the right to move on," Alex said firmly, crossing his arms over hischest.
Jakefrowned, studying Alex's face as he processed the information. Inwardly, heknew the man was right; unless they proved the exhibit itself was connected tothe murders, then they couldn't force them to stay. After all, the previousmurder had happened in a museum unrelated to the exhibit.
"Okay,"Jake said, "but we're going to keep looking around here."
"Dowhat you have to do," Alex said. "Frankly, I can't wait to get out ofPortland."
Fionaclenched her jaw, her frustration palpable, but Jake placed a hand on the smallof her back and led her away from Alex's ears. Once alone, Fiona said,"There must be something here that we've overlooked. Some tiny clue thatcould help us crack this case."
"Let'stake another look around," Jake suggested. Right now, it was all they had.
***
The sundipped low in the sky, casting a dark hue over the museum's façade as Fiona andJake stepped out into the crisp evening air. Disappointment weighed heavily onJake, like a stone tied around his heart. He had hoped for a breakthrough, butinstead, they were left with the sinking feeling that the killer was slippingthrough their fingers.
"Damnit," Fiona muttered under her breath, kicking at a loose pebble on thesidewalk. The sound of her frustration echoed through the parking lot. Of allthe cases they'd worked together, Jake could tell this one meant a lot toFiona. He wished they were closer to the truth, but their search through themuseum hadn't yielded any new information, at least not yet, so they hadstepped out to get some air and take a break.
"Comeon," Jake said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Let'skeep an eye on the place from the car. Maybe we'll get lucky."
Theycrossed the street and climbed into Jake's unmarked cruiser, settling into theworn leather seats. As the engine rumbled to life, Jake angled the car so theycould monitor the museum's entrance, hoping that their vigilance would somehowpay off.
