CHAPTER TWELVE
BRITA TYPED THE FINAL sentence into her report and hit ‘Save’. She grabbed her coffee mug and grimaced down at the cold dregs on the bottom. Standing up, she started toward the small, dingy room that contained the world’s worst coffee, wondering if she should grab a granola bar out of the machine while she was in there.
Her cell rang as she reached for the stained glass coffee pot. She dug in her jeans pocket and pulled it out. “Muldane.”
“We got the prints back on the knife. There were some partials on it. Lautaro’s prints weren’t on the knife.”
Brita sighed. She’d have to ask Fabiana Maricruz to come in and get printed. Her brother too. “Ok, thanks Bud. What about the blood? Does it match up to the blood we pulled from Maricruz’ shoes?”
“Lautaro’s blood wasn’t on the
