Chapter Sixty-two: I Thought she Knew

The man fidgeted, uneasy with the sudden shift in his day. Looking around the interrogation room with the glass walls he felt like a fish under inspection. When he'd gotten up to answer the knock at his door he never expected to find the police. He never expected them to handcuff him and drag him away to the precinct without explaining the real reason why. And now here he was, sitting here stewing in a mix of anger and fear while waiting for someone to talk to him. He watched people pass by but for at least an hour no one entered the room. He was starting to get thirsty. Then the door opened. He whirled around to find a man with red hair walking into the room followed by a younger man with dark hair and the nearly bald detective that slapped the cuffs on him.

"What the hell am I being held here for?" the man ordered, those his voice lacked the anger he wished to convey.

The red head sat at the table across from him. "Mr. Stevenson, what can you tell me about your wife?"

"We're separated, have been for that last six months," the man replied. "Though we have been going to a marriage counselor. Why? What does she have to do with anything?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr. Stevenson, but your wife was murdered this morning," Horatio told him. "A neighbor called it in. Can you think of anyone that might want to harm your wife?"

The suspect looked on the brink of tears, his hands shaking. He clasped them together in his lap. "I…no." He shook his head. "Dammit."

The integration continued until Horatio was convinced that the man's story backed up the evidence. The bloody fingerprint found at the scene did not belong to the husband or anyone in the database. Very rarely did he come across such a brutal murder to find the person committing it didn't already have a rap sheet. Frank led the man from the room, talking to him in a hushed voice about the crime and the things that he should be doing now, people that he should contact. Horatio looked over his shoulder at Speed to see what the young investigator thought of their only suspect. He too seemed convinced that the husband was telling the true. Of course, that meant they had a maniac on the loose in the city. Someone they were going to have to track down quickly, before anyone else had to die.

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"Come on, we have a call," Ryan said leaning through the doorway. Speed looked up from the test he was running at the newest member of the team.

"Just give me a minute to put this in the machine," Speed replied, slipping the vial into the necessary machine and hitting the start button. As usual there was a pile of evidence occurring in the lab. There was the murder in the posh house that still needed to be solved. They needed to get all the proper evidence in order for the case against the man who stabbed Horatio. And now the case of the murdered woman. Things were getting busy at the lab and Speed was displeased in hearing that he was going to have to collect evidence in yet another case. What the hell was happening to the world? Removing his lab coat he left it hanging on a hook by the door, following after Ryan.

He willingly let the younger man drive, not wanting to bother fighting the afternoon traffic. The sun shone down on all the grime and horrible crimes like they were things of beauty. Sometimes he wondered what it was that he saw in this forsaken city. Why did he bother returning? He could have bought a nice little house in some small town; a house with a yard for Mite to race around in like any normal dog. But of course, he knew that the whole small town appeal was lost on him. He was used to the bustling of a city. From living in New York to running away and ending up here in Miami. The big city called his name. And with the big cities came the big city murders.

After driving for nearly a half hour Ryan pulled the Hummer to a stop along the side of a two-lane highway. An officer was busy directing traffic. A few cop cars with their lights swirling painted the small stretch of roadway in blue and red. At the center of all the hubbub was a black SUV, the driver's side door hanging open. Grabbing his kit from the back Speed headed straight for the vehicle, ignoring the officer that stepped forward to talk with Ryan. He settled his case on the pavement by the back tire, moving forward slowly so as not to step on any evidence. When he reached the open driver's side door he looked in at the body.

And that's where Ryan found him standing a few minutes later. "Something wrong?" inquired the former beat cop. "Did you know the guy?"

"Yeah, H and I talked with him a few hours ago about the murder of his wife."

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He waited patiently and quietly for Valera to finish running the DNA tests before going to Horatio with his suspicions. It was always better to back up an idea with a form of evidence, especially in this sort of job. While waiting he tried to figure out what his potential connection to two murders might mean. He also realized how slightly absurd the whole thing sounded. But then again, people murdered for all sorts of reasons so perhaps his idea wasn't quite so farfetched after all.

Delko walked into the room. "Calleigh is a tad miffed to hear that you checked out her evidence."

"I thought she knew," Speed remarked. "She was only five feet away when I signed it out of the evidence locker."

"She isn't mad, Speed," assured Delko. "Just curious about what you're up to and hoping that you'll bring her into the loop. So what did you want with the evidence? We've already processed it."

"He wanted hairs," Valera answered, walking over to the two of them with paperwork in her hands. She handed a sheet over to Speed. "The hairs from your scene on the highway match the hairs found in the victim's wife's apartment. They belong to a breed of dog known as the Iceland Sheepdog." She gave him the second piece of paper. "The hairs from Calleigh's case belong to a Tibetan Mastiff."

Delko shook his head. "So the victims owned dogs, since when is that a crime?"

"Both breeds are rare," pointed out Valera.

"And both dogs are missing," said Speed, looking at the results and not liking the alleys his mind started to wander.