something. He wouldn’t just jump.”
Sean got up and headed toward Mrs. Townsend, but stopped a couple of feet away when her glower leveled on him.
Carr straightened and latched his thumbs on the waist of his pants. “An autopsy showed no evidence of foul play, no syringe holes or anything.”
“Toxicology results take longer to come back,” Sean interjected.
Ramsey nodded with no elaboration, which meant the case was closed without it.
Sara knew the autopsy Officer Carr had referenced was probably just a preliminary look-over. The sad part was, she understood where the department was coming from. For all intents and purposes, they had a man fall to his death. He wasn ’t described by anyone as acting like he was intoxicated or drugged. No one witnessed a struggle, and, sadly, budget constraints were an issue for PD. It wasn’t, however, for Sean and Sara.
She matched eyes with Sean. Although certain he wouldn’t be able to read all of her thoughts, minimum, he would pick up on her need to discuss this later.
“What about his—” Nicole hiccupped a sob and composed herself. “What about his wallet and clothing? His wedding band?”
Carr turned to Ramsey. Ramsey turned to Carr. Then Ramsey spoke, his eyes drifting to Mrs. Townsend as he did so. “You can pick up those items down at the station. We broke our regular protocol bringing this here.”
“I have to go down there?” A glare flashed in Nicole’s eyes, slicing through the resident grief.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Mrs. Townsend came to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. Nicole melted into the embrace, the heaving sobs creating fractures through Sara’s heart.
The worst part of the job hadn ’t been the crime scenes—even the grisly ones—the worst part was telling people that their loved ones were gone, and being powerless to do anything to bring them back.
The Tally
AFTER THEY CALMED NICOLE AND got her off to bed, Mrs. Townsend left them to do whatever they felt they needed to.
Sean and Sara headed straight to the Townsend s’ dining room. It appeared like a retail hurricane had torn through, leaving gifts in its wake—sweaters, CDs, crystal glasses, and hand-sized electronics.
They spent a half hour rifling through all the packages that had been found at the scene, but there was no yellow bag.
Sara dropped onto a dining room chair.
Sean placed an arm around her shoulders and hunched beside her. “I’m sorry, darling, but there isn’t a yellow bag. Maybe the man imagined it.”
“No, he saw it. There was a reflection in his eyes that told me he held no doubt about it. There was a yellow bag.”
“All right, so if we run on that assumption—sorry, darling—but until we see it for ourselves.”
“I understand.” She waved a hand. “Continue.”
“I just had a thought.” He moved around in front of her. “In all of this, we never found any receipts.”
Sara beheld the floor and the mess they had made—stuff strewn everywhere. “You’re right. Not one.”
“I think that Jerrod must have kept the receipts on him.”
“If we get ahold of those, then maybe we’ll have a better idea where the yellow bag came from.”
Sean shrugged. “At the very least it would narrow down the number of stores. From the sounds of it, his wallet and clothing are still downtown. When I mentioned a toxicology, did you notice Officer Ramsey’s reaction?” Sean asked.
“You mean the fact there wasn’t one and he knew it? There’s no way samples were taken for that. You and I know it. There are budget constraints. I don’t even think a full autopsy was conducted.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
She took his hands in hers. “I think we should pay for this to take place.”
“If we’re not already too late.”
“There is one thing that just hit me. People were screaming when Jerrod went over, but I don’t remember anyone commenting on him screaming on the way down.” She was certain
Sean got up and headed toward Mrs. Townsend, but stopped a couple of feet away when her glower leveled on him.
Carr straightened and latched his thumbs on the waist of his pants. “An autopsy showed no evidence of foul play, no syringe holes or anything.”
“Toxicology results take longer to come back,” Sean interjected.
Ramsey nodded with no elaboration, which meant the case was closed without it.
Sara knew the autopsy Officer Carr had referenced was probably just a preliminary look-over. The sad part was, she understood where the department was coming from. For all intents and purposes, they had a man fall to his death. He wasn ’t described by anyone as acting like he was intoxicated or drugged. No one witnessed a struggle, and, sadly, budget constraints were an issue for PD. It wasn’t, however, for Sean and Sara.
She matched eyes with Sean. Although certain he wouldn’t be able to read all of her thoughts, minimum, he would pick up on her need to discuss this later.
“What about his—” Nicole hiccupped a sob and composed herself. “What about his wallet and clothing? His wedding band?”
Carr turned to Ramsey. Ramsey turned to Carr. Then Ramsey spoke, his eyes drifting to Mrs. Townsend as he did so. “You can pick up those items down at the station. We broke our regular protocol bringing this here.”
“I have to go down there?” A glare flashed in Nicole’s eyes, slicing through the resident grief.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Mrs. Townsend came to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. Nicole melted into the embrace, the heaving sobs creating fractures through Sara’s heart.
The worst part of the job hadn ’t been the crime scenes—even the grisly ones—the worst part was telling people that their loved ones were gone, and being powerless to do anything to bring them back.
The Tally
AFTER THEY CALMED NICOLE AND got her off to bed, Mrs. Townsend left them to do whatever they felt they needed to.
Sean and Sara headed straight to the Townsend s’ dining room. It appeared like a retail hurricane had torn through, leaving gifts in its wake—sweaters, CDs, crystal glasses, and hand-sized electronics.
They spent a half hour rifling through all the packages that had been found at the scene, but there was no yellow bag.
Sara dropped onto a dining room chair.
Sean placed an arm around her shoulders and hunched beside her. “I’m sorry, darling, but there isn’t a yellow bag. Maybe the man imagined it.”
“No, he saw it. There was a reflection in his eyes that told me he held no doubt about it. There was a yellow bag.”
“All right, so if we run on that assumption—sorry, darling—but until we see it for ourselves.”
“I understand.” She waved a hand. “Continue.”
“I just had a thought.” He moved around in front of her. “In all of this, we never found any receipts.”
Sara beheld the floor and the mess they had made—stuff strewn everywhere. “You’re right. Not one.”
“I think that Jerrod must have kept the receipts on him.”
“If we get ahold of those, then maybe we’ll have a better idea where the yellow bag came from.”
Sean shrugged. “At the very least it would narrow down the number of stores. From the sounds of it, his wallet and clothing are still downtown. When I mentioned a toxicology, did you notice Officer Ramsey’s reaction?” Sean asked.
“You mean the fact there wasn’t one and he knew it? There’s no way samples were taken for that. You and I know it. There are budget constraints. I don’t even think a full autopsy was conducted.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
She took his hands in hers. “I think we should pay for this to take place.”
“If we’re not already too late.”
“There is one thing that just hit me. People were screaming when Jerrod went over, but I don’t remember anyone commenting on him screaming on the way down.” She was certain
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