Part 16 (1/2)

”Ours or the task force office?” she asked.

”Task force. We've got some things back from trace and Nora wants everyone to take a look. Euzent is also in town. He's spent the last twenty-four hours reading what I sent him and would like to meet.”

Ava wanted to swear. She'd been looking forward to a quiet evening at home. Mason had bought a bottle of wine at the winery, and she wanted to sit on the sofa and figure out how to solve their wedding dilemma together.

”Yes, I can be there in half an hour.”

”What did you think of the winery?” Zander asked.

”Cheryl nailed it. You should have come along. It would have been the perfect time to meet her.”

”You found the right place? Did you reserve a date?”

”Lord, no. We've hit another wall as far as dates go. The problem is that this place is only perfect on a beautiful sunny day.”

”Not many of those in the forecast for the next six months,” said Zander.

”Probably longer,” she admitted. Zander's voice sounded odd. ”What's up with the evidence? Something big?” Is he holding out until I get there?

”Nothing that can't wait.”

Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Cheryl.

She ended the call and dialed Mason to let him know she was headed back to work instead of home. ”Don't you think Cheryl would get along well with Zander?” she asked him.

”Are you playing matchmaker?”

”Maybe.”

”They don't seem like the same type.”

”They aren't, but maybe that's why it would work. She's outgoing and he's reserved. Sometimes reserved people appreciate being around people who bring them out.”

”Or they find them annoying as h.e.l.l.”

”I still think it's worth an introduction.”

”Zander doesn't seem to be the type who's looking for a girlfriend. He's all about work,” Mason pointed out.

”He needs something in his life besides his work,” Ava argued. ”If anyone knows that, it's you. I don't know how his wife died-do you?”

”No, he's never brought it up. I wouldn't have known he was previously married if you hadn't said something.”

”He goes silent and I can feel his defenses shoot up when he thinks our conversation is going in that direction,” Ava said slowly. ”It must have been very hard on him. I don't know who he has to talk to about it. I think he talks to me more than anyone else at work.”

”You're lucky I'm not the jealous type.”

”You're totally the jealous type,” Ava stated. ”You practically growl if someone talks to me in a bar.”

”But I'm not worried about Zander. I know he'll respect what we have.”

Ava frowned. Mason had told her he believed Zander had feelings for her, but she'd never seen him as anything but a friend. ”Of course he will.” Her phone did a double beep through the car's speakers. Zander was calling back.

”Zander's calling again. I'll let you know what he says.” She ended their call and switched over.

”It looks like we've got another mask murder,” Zander said as she answered. ”It just happened. We've got an eyewitness on the scene. Put this into your GPS.” Ava pulled over to the shoulder of the road and tapped in the address as he rattled it off. ”I'll see you there in fifteen minutes.” He ended the call.

Heart racing, Ava pulled a U-turn and headed toward an on-ramp.

19.

Ava drove through the Gresham neighborhood on the edge of Portland. City of Gresham police cars lined the streets, and uniforms held back the growing crowds of gawkers. She pa.s.sed two local news vans and wondered how they'd managed to get to the scene before her. During the drive she'd found out the victim was a patrol officer with the West Linn Police Department from the other side of the Willamette River. She parked where directed and got out of her vehicle. Anger and pain lined the faces of the cops she walked past.

Straight ahead a midsize Craftsman-style home waited for her. Looking around, she noticed that every home on the street was similar. The homes were too close together for her taste, but she understood the appeal of the neighborhood. Especially to young families who wanted a good-size home in a development with like-minded neighbors. Sidewalks to easily push strollers on. A small park at the entrance to the development. Neighborhood watch signs. A feeling of community and safety.

She knew a neighbor had called in suspicious activity. Maybe the neighborhood watch program did work. She moved up the walkway, nodding at the officers who waited. She had her ID and badge handy, showing them when requested. This home was decorated for Halloween, reminding her of Louis Samuelson's home, but the decor was child-friendly. Ghosts with smiles and kittens with witch hats. Not realistic blood and heavy tombstones.

Did this officer have small kids?

Her heart clenched for a brief second.

Was he a father?

She signed the log, pulled on her shoe covers, and slipped on the gloves a polite patrol officer handed her. He didn't say anything and she didn't ask questions. His expression told her that what she'd find inside was bad. Low voices sounded indoors, and she set out to find them.

She pa.s.sed a formal living room, noticing a strong odor of smoke-not cigarette smoke; more like burned-dinner smoke-and headed to the back of the house, where she found an open-plan family room and kitchen. Zander and Nora stood outside the kitchen speaking with a crime scene technician who held a large camera. The dead officer was on the floor, a mask clenched in his hand. High-velocity blood spatter covered some of the lower kitchen cabinets.

Ava froze as she spotted the blood. ”He was shot?” she asked.

”Nice to see you, too,” said Zander. ”Yes, he was shot in the chest. We definitely have a different type of scene here compared to the others.” He looked at his notebook. ”A call was made to 911 at six P.M. A neighbor had heard a gunshot. She stepped onto her front porch while still on the phone with the operator and saw a man running toward the entrance of the subdivision, trying to keep to the shadows of the homes.”

”He ran across their lawns?” Ava asked.

”Yes, trying to avoid the streetlights.”

”Where's the neighbor?”

”I have an officer sitting with her in her home,” said Nora. ”I told her we'd take a look at the scene and then talk with her. She has a sleeping infant in the house.”

”Who is he?” Ava asked, studying the man on the wooden kitchen floor.

”Lucien Fujioka. Forty-five. Married, no kids. He's been with the West Linn Police Department for nine years. Was with the Vancouver PD before that.”

”Where's the wife?”

”Sacramento,” said Nora. ”She travels for her job. I have an officer trying to track her down and get someone from a local department to notify her in person. This isn't the type of news you break with a phone call.”