CHAPTER EIGHT
Danielle sat in her FBI-issued Chevy Impala outside the house where Lexa Windham grew up in Bethesda. It was a split-level mid-century modern house. Nice, but not too special.
She’d spent the morning talking to Windham’s colleagues. No one liked to speak ill of the dead, but everyone seemed to truly love Lexa. Well, almost everyone. Danielle had detected a few sour notes here and there from a few colleagues. Probably what Stark had said. They were jealous of the position Lexa had risen to, but that was hardly a motive for murder. Besides, what did it have to do with Michelle Schultz? She’d been a lab tech. A good job, but hardly one that inspired the kind of jealousy that would lead someone to murder.
She hadn’t gotten much else useful from her morning at the hospital. Wel
