Chapter Four:

The fax machine beeped, alerting Angie that she was receiving the information that she had requested. She switched the phone to her other hand and reached for the sheet of paper with her free one, trying to reframe from losing her balance in her office sliding chair. Her fingertips just grazed the edge of the paper and she snatched it up carefully, still focusing on the end of the phone conversation, when she noticed her partner.

He sat in the center of the room, right in front of the evidence board, wearing an intense expression. His brows were furrowed and a hand scratched along his beard in thought. She could tell is mind was on overdrive, trying to connect all the dots with that invisible thread. It was the challenging aspect of their job, the navigating through evidence, the unraveling of the motive. She never found him more attractive than in those moments where he was lost in concentration, unaware that anyone was watching. It was as though the room gravitated to his intensity and she was having a hard time pulling her eyes away, and an even harder time at catching the last part of the phone conversation that was coming to an abrupt end in ear.

She hung the phone up and rolled her chair over to where her partner was, bumping against his slightly. He glanced at her as she handed him the paper that she was faxed only moments prior. "He was telling the truth."

Vega glanced at the paper and then at her. "What's this," he asked, taking it from her and reading it over.

"It's the hospital's attendance log. I had them fax it over," she explained. "Matthew did attend AA that night. His signature's number six on the list."

Vega's eyes paused as he located the name and shook his head; dropping the paper down onto the desk and pushing it back over in her direction. He leaned against the chair and folded his arms behind his head, thinking for a moment. "That only proves that he signed in. It doesn't prove that he stayed the whole time. He could have signed it and then snuck out. That gives him more than enough time to murder his mother, or he could have had someone else sign him in."

"Yes," Angie agreed, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the table. She folded her hands together and planted them beneath her chin, giving her partner a pointed expression. "I thought of that as well, which is why I called his sponsor. His alibi checks out. He was there the entire time, which means he's not our guy."

Vega was quiet for a second, drumming his fingers on the table. "What if he hired someone to kill her and used the meeting as an alibi?"

Angie turned her chair slightly, so she had a better view of the evidence board. In the center was a picture of their victim, extended from that were lines that connected an arrangement of other items, including a picture of her son Matthew, as a possible suspect, a copy of Betty's autopsy findings, and a few other items they had found at the crime scene that could be of some importance. Somewhere in that puzzlement was a hidden motive, they just needed to reveal it.

She bit the skin on the back of her thumb, a habit she wasn't able to break, and her go to method of producing a clear thought. She didn't think Matthew was their killer, so the idea that he would hire someone just didn't seem plausible to her. "But why go through all that?" She reasoned. "Why hire someone to kill your mom? She didn't have a big insurance policy; he stood to gain nothing from her death. It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe it had nothing to do with money, but everything to do with revenge," Vega suggested, countering her with his own theory.

Angie shook her head. "Revenge for what exactly? Not picking him up after he got released for rehab? For turning her back on him? I just don't think he's our guy."

"Well people have been known to kill for lesser reasons then betrayal," Vega said. "People have killed for no reason at all, but let's assume he's not our murderer. That means we are back at square one. Maybe we need to look at this differently." He reached across the desk towards a stack of papers, pulling them closer to him. "Lucas took a neighbor's statement at the scene." He searched through the pile of items unsuccessfully. "You know that kid really needs to get better organized," he said, finally locating the file that he was in search for. "It says," he read aloud to Angie. "It was a little after one when I heard a dog bark, I glanced out the window and saw a car. I found it strange because I never seen it before and it was an older car; blue, four-door Pontiac Sunbird. My cousin used to drive one, but around here, you don't see many cars like that."

Angie rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with a Pontiac Sunbird," she asked. "I drove one in high school."

"Well besides the fact that they're ugly," Vega teased.

Angie ignored her partner. "I bet the entire neighborhood just about fainted when I pulled up at the crime scene in my car."

Vega shot her an amused look. "I just about faint every time you pull up in that car."

She pushed him roughly, causing his chair to move. "Shut your face, you love that car."

"No," he argued. "I love that you love that car. There's a difference. Besides, your car would stick-out like a sore thumb in any neighborhood." He ignored the death glare of his partner and continued. "So what was a Pontiac Sunbird doing in an upper-class neighborhood so early in the morning?"

Angie was just about to come up some theories when Vega's cellphone beeped. She watched as he picked it up, read it over and sent back a text.

"What's the emergency?" Angie asked, lifting a brow. "Am I boring you?"

He snorted. "No, I was just alerted that the blood and DNA report finally came in. Told Lucas to pick them up, and see if he can find any local blue, four-door Pontiac Sunbird in the area."

She glanced around the room, noting for the first time that Lucas wasn't around. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she snapped her head back around to face her partner. "Wait a second," she said. "The results are back? I called down there earlier today and they told me they wouldn't be ready until tomorrow."

Vega flashed her a huge grin and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say, they like me more."

"Whatever," Angie mumbled, glancing once again at the evidence board. "Okay, what do we know," she said softly, mainly to herself, as she reached for a dry market, biting on the cap for a moment. She stared at the board hard, trying to figure out the whole picture. She pulled off the cap and began jotting down notes. "We know Matthew was at rehab the night Sarah was murdered. We also still assume that the weapon used was the missing Wiseman." She stepped back and examined her work; still pondering what the missing link was when the pamphlet caught her eye. She pulled it down and read the name to herself. She had found it at the crime scene. "What about the church," she asked, handing it to her partner. "Someone there has to know our victim."