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Aiden hide a yawn, seated in the back seat of the car. Up front, Mac and Stella were silent, already focused on the job ahead.
She'd been going over the Emmerttons' car again, hoping to catch something new. Stella had called her to go with them when she was just finishing up.
With each new piece of information that they managed to gather, their view of the crime and the crime scenes changed. She knew that was why Mac and Stella had returned to the Stutons house; that had been why she had felt drawn to the car again.
Standing alone in the lab's garage, she had tried to imagine the Emmerttons, drugged, beaten and finally stabbed to death inside their own car. She had imagined herself in Samantha Emmertton shoes, watching her husband die, knowing that she would die next and being helpless to do anything about it.
The blood stains in the front seats had already dried up. Her initial swabs had confirmed that it was the victims' blood and no one else's. She had expected as much.
The seatbelts, which had been fastened around the dead bodies, had no prints on them other then the Emmerttons, but she had expected that as well. No one planned something like this and then forgot to wear gloves.
The steering wheel was covered with Louis's Emmertton's prints, but most of them were smeared, like he'd been grabbing the wheel with excessive force.
'Or gloved hands used the wheel after him'. She didn't expect the victim to be able to drive his own car in the condition he was then. The killer must have driven them to the bridge and then killed them.
Then she had noticed it. The smell had always been there, but only now had it registered as out of context. There was a distinct smell of cigarette' smoke lingering in the driver' seat's leather. A smell that had a ring of familiarity to her.
She had quickly checked all her previous notes. The ash tray in the car had been empty when it had been brought in and the Emmerttons had no visible signs of being smokers. Their friends and colleagues at school had confirmed that much.
Aiden had felt like jumping up and down to celebrate her discovery. If the Emmerttons didn't smoke, then the smell must've belonged to the last person driving that car, the killer. If she could match the composition of that smoke to a particular brand, they would be a step closer to him.
She had shared her discovery with Stella on their way to meet Mac, thinking that whatever they needed her for, she would be of more use at the lab, pursuing her lead. The news that they might have discovered the original crime scene had erased all thoughts of staying from her mind.
If they could nail this guy before this night was over…
Street lights passed outside the car window at a speed that she wasn't quiet sure to be within speed limits. Mac was wasting no time in getting them back to Jackson Heights. Not wanting to think about the dangers of seating in a car diving at that speed, her mind turned to Danny instead. In the end, this was all about him.
They were only doing their job, she was aware of that, but no one could deny the sense of urgency, the extra time and passion all of them were throwing in to solving this case. Danny could be in danger, and that meant that none of them would stop until he was safe.
She had thought him to be utterly obnoxious when they had met. Cute, but too full of himself; smartass with no real smart behind it; funny, but in all the wrongs ways. She had gotten to know him better after that and her view of the man had slowly changed for the better after a time. Now he was the nearest thing she had to a brother and she couldn't stand to watching him go through all of this.
When she had called him earlier in the night, she knew that he'd been home; she knew that he was awake. He was just being stubborn and refusing to pick up the phone.
She hadn't taken it personally because she knew this was his usual way to deal with stuff, the heavy stuff. Small things, like complaining about the weather, or his neighbours, or some driver that had crossed his path on his way to work, small things he could whine about for hours, sometimes days. The big things, the ones that truly left him hurt and in need of talking, he would clamp up, shut his friends out and deal with whatever was on his own. Sometimes he would talk to Flack, sometimes he would talk to her. Most times none of them could get through.
To her, Danny's reactions were textbook inflated male ego, made worse by growing up the way he had, in the places he had. Bad habits that she would love to knock out of him.
Aiden looked at her watch; the glowing numbers showed just fifteen minutes pass four in the morning.
Daniel Messer could clamp all he wanted, but she was still going by his house first thing in the morning. Maybe bring him a fresh box of brownies, as a peace offering.
"We're here," Mac announced, parking in front of the number 82 in Jackson Heights.
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That's it for tonight. Enjoy your reading!