Target On Her Back

Keir followed. “That new baby is six months old and you haven’t visited your goddaughter in two weeks, Uncle Hud.”

His mood brightened by the mention of his goddaughter. Hud grinned as he tucked in his flannel shirt and adjusted the gun holstered on his belt. “Lilly’s eyes still as blue as the sky?”

“Now that’s the line you ought to use,” Keir teased. “She’s as beautiful as her mother. Just as headstrong, too.”

Hud pictured Keir’s wife, a former criminal defense attorney turned county prosecutor who enjoyed the well-earned professional nickname, The Terminator, and laughed. “I bet she is. Hey, if you and Kenna need a night out on your own, all you have to do is call Uncle Hud, and I’d be happy to come babysit that sweet little angel.”

“I will take you up on that offer,” Keir said. “But not tonight.”

“I take it we caught a case?”

Keir nodded. “Murder. One of the professors over at Williams U was found dead in his lab. Multiple stab wounds. B shift is short staffed, and this is a high-profile enough victim that the captain wants us to get the investigation started ASAP.”

“High profile?” Hud shrugged into his jacket, his personal life pushed aside at the urgency of those first few hours in a murder investigation.

“It might be related to that bombing we had downtown this past summer.”

“When the Lukinburg royalty was in town?”

Keir nodded. “The professor’s lab is funded by the Lukin government. Not sure if the two incidents are related, but Captain Hendricks wants us to check it out. You up to working on a Friday night?”

“Well, I’m not going home to snore in my recliner, watch TV and feel sorry for myself.”

“Good man. I’ll drive.” Keir buttoned his jacket and headed for the door.

Hud tossed a tip on the table for the waitress and followed his partner out into the night. “Works for me.”

FORENSIC EVIDENCE WAS in plentiful supply at the crime scene. But it was up to Hud, Keir and the crime lab to make sense of it.

While the medical examiner rolled the victim to the elevator in a body bag, Hud pulled a pair of disposable foot covers over his work boots and squatted down to inspect the broken glass and paperwork tossed around the pool of blood in Ian Lombard’s office. Clearly, there’d been quite a fight in the lab—one that had probably started out there, then ended in the office. Judging by the blood trail, Lombard had been stabbed repeatedly before dragging himself back here.

But why? To reach the phone? There were plenty of bloody fingerprints and smears around the desk, but none on the phone itself. Even though there was no evidence that he’d made a call, Hud scribbled a reminder in his notebook to pull the local usage details on Lombard’s office, home and cell numbers. If nothing else, an earlier call might give them a clue as to who he’d been meeting on campus after hours.

The man must have been expecting company, judging by the two untouched shot glasses and pricey bottle of rye whiskey sitting on the coffee table in front of the leather couch. The bottle still had a red wax seal over the lid, indicating Lombard and his guest hadn’t gotten around to pouring drinks. Had his killer been here to make a business deal? Was someone offering money for or demanding results from his research? Murder was one way to resolve a disagreement in terms—or to ensure a deal before those terms could be changed.

And if the victim hadn’t been trying to reach the phone to call for help, then what had he been after? Why not use the cell phone linked to his name to call 911? Why not crawl to the door and shout for the guard downstairs to help him? Or trip the security alarm? The guard had indicated that opening any of these doors without the right card swipe and passcode would trigger an alarm at the security desk and at the campus security office. And why hadn’t the guard responded to a brawl of this magnitude in the first place? The guy would have to be deaf not to hear the shattering glass and shifting of furniture and equipment.

Hud studied a neat, rectangular void in the blood pool. On a hunch, he pulled his own cell phone from his pocket and held it over the empty spot, confirming his suspicions before snapping a picture.

Keir appeared in the doorway, pausing to pull on his own shoe covers. “Find something?”

“Lombard’s cell phone is missing, right?”

His partner crossed the room. “The ME couldn’t find it anywhere on him. Just his wallet, watch and his glasses case. He had a wad of cash on him, so I think we can rule out a robbery. Although, I don’t know what half that equipment out there is for. Something could be missing. We’ll need to talk to someone on his staff.”

Hud pointed to the open safe and file cabinet in the corner. “Those drawers don’t hold anything but personnel files and student records. The safe has been ransacked, but the perp left a box of rocks behind.”

“A box of rocks?”

Hud had been skeptical, too, until he opened the container and read the packing slip inside. “Gold rocks. The university shipped it in from Lukinburg. Over twelve thousand dollars’ worth. Apparently, there’s some science-y thing they do with it.”

Keir let out a low whistle. “So, we’re not looking at a robbery. Still, either the perp knew the combination to that safe or Lombard opened it before he was killed.”

“Or he was forced to open it. Maybe the perp didn’t find what he wanted and lost his temper.”

“Could this be industrial espionage?”

“Possibly. We’ll need to check Lombard’s computer, broaden our search for missing flash drives.” Hud pushed to his feet. “Check out that void. It’s the same size as my phone.”

“You think the killer stole Lombard’s phone? Would it have a big enough memory to store his research data?”

“I’m not tech savvy enough to know. But it could hold contact information that identifies the killer, or something else incriminating, like a picture or text.” Stepping across the spot where Dr. Lombard had died, Hud pointed to a second, much smaller stain several feet from where the body had been found. “What do you make of that? I’m wondering if the killer got hurt, too. That happens a lot with stabbings. We might get DNA.”

Keir checked his notes. “The security guard seems to think it’s from the witness.”

“We have a witness?” Hud’s job just got simpler if they could get a description of what had happened or who the perp might be.

Keir’s weary sigh blew the idea of simpler out of the water. Apparently, nothing was going to come easy for Hud tonight. “One of the lab staff found Lombard before he died. Called 911 and tried to administer first aid.”

“Any dying declarations from the victim?”

“Haven’t talked to her yet. The paramedics are checking her out. Blow to the head. She’s lucky she’s not dead, too, walking into the middle of a crime like that.”

Her. She. Apprehension knotted in his gut. “My luck with women hasn’t been stellar lately. Why don’t you handle the witness interviews. I’ll stay up here and see if I can find whatever was used as the murder weapon.”

“Unless the killer took that with him, too.”

Hud nodded at the possibility, if not probability, that he wouldn’t find the weapon here. If the killer had been clearheaded enough to pick up the victim’s cell phone, then he wouldn’t forget to take the murder weapon. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

Keir pocketed his notebook. “I need to finish up with Officer Galbreath. Have him run me through the security system. A lot of it’s computerized, apparently. He showed me where he reset the breaker in the basement after the power outage.”

“Give me a good gun and a guard dog any day over all that high-tech mumbo jumbo,” Hud grumbled. “It’s too easy to hack into or override a system and cover up any sign of what’s been done. I hate all those nano-bits sneaking around behind my back.”

“This is the school of technology,” Keir reminded him with a teasing grin. “Not everybody’s as old-fashioned as you are, my friend.”

“Have I told you to bite me lately?”

“Not for an hour or so.”

Hud made an exaggerated show of typing the reminder into his phone. “I’ll add looking for a way to overload the circuitry while I’m up here.”

“Maybe our witness can help with that. Besides giving us a rundown on anything that might be missing.” Keir backed toward the hallway. “I can talk to her as soon as I’m done with Galbreath and the medics clear her.” He hesitated a moment, wanting to say something more.

“What?”

“You know I was just giving you grief at the Shamrock earlier. Don’t give up on the idea of finding the right woman. Other than Dad, you’re the babysitter Kenna trusts most with Lilly. And look at Millie—she’s practically adopted you because she thinks you’re a prize.” A married woman, a baby and Keir’s stepgrandmother. Yeah, Hud had a real prowess with women, so long as they were taken, under the age of two or over seventy-five. “Don’t let the fact that this witness is a woman get in your head. You won’t screw anything up by talking to her.”

“Not tonight.” Hud combed his fingers through his hair, then shook it back into its spiky disarray. His heart and his ego had taken one too many hits lately to trust that he wouldn’t scare off a fragile woman with the wrong word or stupid impulse. “I’ll owe you a solid if you take this interview for me.”

Keir considered the bargain for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll ask one of the unis to hold her until I’m done with Galbreath. He’s retired KCPD, so his testimony should be reliable. But...”

But was not an encouraging word. “But what?”

“Galbreath claims he might have been drugged. He insists that no one could have gotten in or out of Lombard’s lab and office without a key card and passcode, even with the power off. I’ll ask him to report to the crime lab for a blood draw. See if there’s anything in his system.”

Relieved to be focusing on the case and not his own shortcomings again, Hud exhaled a measured breath. “That would explain why he didn’t see or hear anything. Lombard must have known his killer if he loaned him a key card or brought him in with him. Sounds like premeditation to me if the killer knew to take out the guard, and how to get around the security system.” He surveyed the trashed lab, shaking his head. “This mess looks like a disagreement that got way out of hand, though. Impulsive, not planned.”

“Maybe the guard’s covering for falling asleep on the job. I’ll press him on it, see if I can get him to admit anything.” Keir paused in the doorway and turned. “You’ll be okay on your own?”

Wasn’t that the irony of the evening? Hud snickered a wry laugh and waved his partner out the door. “I’ll manage.”

“The ME will run a full autopsy, but he says the victim probably died from exsanguination, either from the multiple wounds, or one that nicked an artery or internal organ. He suspects we’re looking for something long, sharp and jagged. Probably not an actual knife.” Hud had suspected as much. He was looking for a weapon of opportunity. Unfortunately, the lab had plenty of possibilities. “Should I send the CSIs up?”

Hud nodded, already spotting something he wanted to investigate. “Yeah. We’ll need a team to clear this place.”

Keir left to meet up with the security guard who was waiting downstairs with the uniformed officers who’d cordoned off the building. Meanwhile, Hud squatted down to snap a picture of glass shards from several beakers and a door that had shattered when a stainless steel table had tipped over into the storage cabinet where they were shelved. If there was a longer piece, it might do as a murder weapon. He’d ask the lab techs to collect the glass and piece it back together to see if a big enough sliver was missing.

He moved on to a narrow tube of steel sticking out from beneath a metal cart. A Bunsen burner. It had a long cylindrical shape with a ridged rim at the top that could account for a jagged entry wound if the killer was strong enough to drive the blunt tip through the skin. The scattered drips of blood dotting the debris that had spilled out of the cabinet and off metal trays from the table were cast-off drops, not indicators that any of these items were the actual weapon. But there were dozens of possibilities littered throughout the lab. Scissors. Giant tweezers. Even some of the knobs on this equipment could be broken off and used to stab someone.

Hud was photographing the possibilities of a good, old-fashioned toolbox that lay open on the floor inside a storage closet when he heard someone softly clearing her throat at the open doorway.

“Good. I can use the backup,” he answered. “All I’m doing is taking pictures. I haven’t touched anything. I’ll be done with my initial scan in a few minutes.” He dropped to his knees to count the number of screwdrivers in the top tray of the toolbox. “The number-one thing we need to find is the murder weapon. You can start in the office.”

“Okay,” a soft voice answered. He heard tentative footsteps, as if the CSI was tiptoeing around the evidence scattered across the floor.

Okay? No warnings about detectives disturbing potential clues and giving orders? No complaints about already having to wait for the ME and how the clock was ticking away on their Friday night plans?

Hud turned his head toward the unexpected acquiescence in that one word.

From this vantage point near the floor, all he saw were a pair of killer black high-heeled pumps. He frowned. What crime-scene technician reported for duty dressed like that? Hud sat back on his heels. “Where are your booties?”

The sexy heels stopped. “Booties?”

With a tabletop of equipment and half the lab between them, his view of the woman hadn’t improved much. And yet, the scenery had improved in a way that stirred a heated interest in his blood.

Through the open space beneath the table, the high heels connected to bare legs that went up and up. He took in miles of creamy skin stretched tautly over strong calves. A sweet curve at the knee. His gaze traveled three or four inches higher until he finally ran into a hem of shimmery black material. For a man who was vertically challenged, he’d never had a problem admiring legs that were long and lean and...

There was a smear of blood on her left thigh. A circle of crimson darkened the sequins above the smear. The observation splashed cold water on the awareness sizzling through him. Blood on her skin, but no sign of a cut or scrape. Not her blood, he hoped. “Ma’am, do you have authorization to be in here?”

“The officer downstairs said the detectives wanted to talk to me.”

“Ah, hell.” Hud pocketed his phone and pushed to his feet. “Don’t move.”

His initial fascination with those sexy legs dampened with a tinge of concern and anger. This must be the witness, the woman who’d found Ian Lombard and tried to save him. Somehow, she’d missed connecting with Keir. As he rose, he finished his assessment of the woman’s appearance. The cream-colored sweater she wore was stretched out of shape and spotted with more blood. The sweater was pulled tight over the flare of her hips. The front overlapped and was held in place by tightly crossed arms. The rolled-up cuffs were stained with blood, too. In her fingers, she clutched an ice pack.

His gaze finally reached a long strand of straight, brick red hair, caught in the clasp of her arms across her chest. Then he saw the swanlike neck, the gently pointed chin, the glasses over dove-gray eyes and... Any lingering lust burned completely out of his system as recognition kicked in with a vengeance. He was embarrassed that he’d ogled her like that for even one moment. That he’d equated sexy with any part of her.

This woman was a nerdy mix of brains and class. She was awkwardly shy, too complicated for him to fully understand and not anybody he should be getting hot and bothered over. And she had absolutely no business showing up at his crime scene covered in blood.

“What the hell?” Gigi Brennan’s was not the face he was expecting to see. “What are you doing here?”

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