Defender

Chapter 2-3

As Ian had pointed out, there wasn’t all that much to see. Jack didn’t know how long Jeff Nichols had lived here, but it was obvious enough that he hadn’t bothered much with trying to make the place his own. The bed was rumpled and half-covered with a dark blue comforter, as if that was all the effort he’d put into making it that morning before he left for work. The walls and the dresser and nightstand were completely bare, except for a clock radio and an unplugged cell phone charger on the nightstand.

Well, there was one thing….

The dresser had a framed wedding photo of Jeff Nichols and Kate Campbell. Kate Nichols, Jack reminded himself, even if it sounded as though she had already started using her maiden name again. In the photograph, Kate’s smile was luminous, although Jack thought he detected something almost strained about it, as if she’d just realized that maybe this wasn’t the happiest day of her life after all. The Jeff in the photo was in much better shape than the man whose body now lay under a rubber sheet, but even back when the picture had been taken, he gave the appearance of someone who was carrying too much weight…a certain puffiness around the eyes and chin.

Trying to dismiss that uncharitable thought — what kind of asshole goes around criticizing the appearance of someone who’s just been brutally murdered? he admonished himself — Jack turned away from the photo and stuck his head in the bathroom to take a quick look around. Someone had already turned on the lights above the vanity, so he didn’t have to worry about getting out his gloves so he could touch the switch.

Again, nothing much to see here. Flecks of dark bristles, remnants of that morning’s shave, were dusted over part of the cultured marble vanity top and in the sink itself, and the mirror needed to be wiped down, but what else would you expect from someone newly returned to the bachelor life? Jack had to admit that his own bathroom probably would be in similar shape if it weren’t for Teresa, the woman who came in to clean his place every Tuesday. It would be waiting for him in freshly scrubbed splendor whenever he got home tonight, a notion he found reassuring. He wanted things to be clean after having to see this kind of filth.

As Grace had already pointed out, all evidence suggested that the killer hadn’t ventured farther into the apartment than the living room. Jack headed back out there, where Ian was already packing up his photographic equipment and Grace was entering some notes on her iPad.

“Was the TV on?” Jack inquired. He’d noticed it earlier, an enormous curved 60-incher sitting on a low entertainment console.

“What?” Grace replied, looking up from the iPad.

“The TV. Was it on?”

Her fair eyebrows pulled together. “No. That did seem kind of strange, because we found a half-eaten sandwich on a plate on the coffee table, as if the victim had been sitting there, eating and watching TV, right before the crime occurred. You think it’s significant?”

“Not sure.” Actually, he did have a theory, but it wasn’t one he could share with Grace. In most cases, you’d think it would make more sense for the killer to have left the television on, simply because the sound would have helped drown out any of the noise of the murder itself. But that same sound, whether it was from a basketball game or watching the evening news, would also disrupt the casting of those dark spells. Sound was energy…as was magic. “Just trying to figure out what the hell happened.”

She nodded. “Not much to go on yet, I’m afraid. I just have to hope that once I can get back to the lab and process some of this evidence, I’ll find something.”

If there was anything to find. The person responsible for the murder clearly was methodical and cool, an organized killer, not someone who would be careless enough to leave anything significant for the authorities to detect. But he’d just have to hope. Sometimes the flimsiest of clues provided a pathway to a conviction.

“I’m going to go down and talk to Ms. Campbell again,” he said.

“You think she had anything to do with it?”

Not a chance, he thought, but he only replied, “No. I just want to follow up on a few things, and then I’ll have Lopez and Manning take her home. She’s had a hell of a shock.”

Grace offered a sympathetic nod. While it was their job to be wary, anyone with eyes to see could tell that Kate Campbell was innocent.

Besides, she was a civilian, a non-magical person, and so she couldn’t have cast those dark spells even if she wanted to.

Saying that he’d see everyone back at the station, Jack left the condo and headed over to where Kate still sat in the back seat of Lopez and Manning’s squad car. She had a plastic bottle of Costco-brand water in one hand and was staring off into the distance, clearly trying to avoid focusing on the immediate scene around her.

When she saw him approaching, however, she got out of the car and tucked the bottle of water into her oversized purse. Questions filled her eyes, but she waited for him to speak.

“I’m going to have these officers take you home,” he told her with a slight tilt of his head in the direction of the two men, who were standing in front of the car and having a muffled convo.

A sort of wary relief entered Kate’s expression. “You don’t want to question me?”

“I interviewed you already, Ms. Campbell. For the moment, you’re not a suspect.” He hesitated, then said, “Is there someone you can have come and stay with you? It’s probably better if you’re not alone.”

“I’m fine,” she began, but he cut through her protests.

“Maybe, but I still think it would be better if you had someone with you. Or someplace you can go stay. Do you have family in the area?” Sooner or later they’d need to discuss her brother Colin and his connection to the witching world, but that could wait.

“My parents are down in Tempe. But I’d rather not go there. It would feel strange to try to sleep somewhere that wasn’t my own place.” A slight pause, and she went on, “I’ll call my friend Samantha. She lives here in Scottsdale, too.”

“Good.”

Kate’s face looked so pale, so stricken. Jack wished he knew her better, that he was a friend instead of the detective called in to handle this case, because right then he wanted to reach out and give her a hug, let her know that she’d survive this.

Instead, he offered her what he thought of as his “official” smile — not too wide, meant to be reassuring more than anything else. “I’ll contact you tomorrow, Ms. Campbell. In the meantime, try to get some rest. And probably take the day off from work.”

Her lips compressed. “I think I’d rather go to work. Maybe if I’m surrounded by other people, I’ll be in better shape.”

While he understood the sentiment, Jack knew generally that wasn’t the case. People needed time to process these sorts of tragedies. Still, he didn’t want to prod her. This was her life, her choice. “Well, don’t make a decision now. See how you feel in the morning.”

She offered a dubious nod. Then she said, her voice tight and desperate, “Who would do such a thing? Why would they do…that?” Her gaze tracked up to the condo where her estranged husband’s body lay, then back down to Jack, pleading, fear and worry and horror all blending in her eyes. Now he saw they were hazel, a warm mixture of green and gold.

Right then, he really didn’t have any answers for her. “I don’t know, Kate,” he said gently, using her first name on purpose, hoping the more casual form of address might help to put her at ease. “But we’re going to find out.”