the meth lab thing. They’re up against the wall, and that Adler person’s been giving them hell about it.”
Diane handed David the memory stick; he put it in his computer and e-mailed the image to Garnett.
“OK,” said Diane sitting down at the table where Jin and Neva were looking at the map. “I thought you were working on the Stanton murder, Jin.”
Jin looked at Neva and over at David. “We’ve come up with a theory—hypothesis, to be more precise.”
“An idea would be the most accurate,” said David.
“OK, an idea,” said Jin. “What if McNair is mixed up somehow in the meth lab mess?”
“Mixed up how?” asked Diane. If that were true, it would be a sticky wicket, indeed.
Jin shrugged. “Not sure. He could have been investigating it on his own in hopes of cracking it and taking the glory. Found out too much and was killed.”
“Or,” offered David, “he’s in it up to his beady little eyeballs. He’s been spending a lot of money—I know Garnett said that his wife has money, but what if he’s really getting money from a drug operation? What if he’s the shadow the police are all looking for behind the meth cook? He went to great lengths to get all the evidence under his control, you’ll have to admit that.”
“OK,” said Diane, “I’m buying it so far.”
“We have several scenarios to look at,” said Jin. “McNair might have killed the Stanton kid because he was afraid the kid would talk, and then someone killed Stanton for the same reason, or for revenge, or something. Or, there is some other person above McNair in the meth operation who wanted to protect himself. Maybe he thought McNair was being too heavy-handed in taking the evidence and we were going to catch on that McNair was trying to hide something.”
“I think we’re onto something,” said Neva. “I really do.”
“Where are we going to put the DNA lab?” said Jin.
“Let’s find the killer first,” said Diane. “What are you going to do now?”
“David’s trying to find out how McNair was killed. We know the location was the Briar Rose Nature Trail where he jogged. And we know he was shot. David’s getting the details.”
“David?” asked Diane.
“His autopsy is being performed as we speak, but this is what I have so far. He was jogging along his usual trail—a place where few people jog this time of year, especially now, with twenty degree temperatures and snow on the ground. But McNair was a marathoner, always in training. About a half mile into it he was shot in the knee. He fell, rolled around a bit, got the ground bloody, probably screamed, but we won’t know that until we find the killer. He managed to get up and hopped about fifteen feet back to where he came from. He was shot again in the chest and once more in the head.”
“What kind of gun?”
“Don’t know that yet. I imagine the GBI does. We’re going to have to get that from Garnett.”
“No one heard gunfire?”
“I don’t know,” answered David.
“Any footprints in the snow?”
“Presumably, but we don’t know,” said David.
“What are the points of similarity between McNair and Stanton?” asked Diane.
Jin fielded this question. “They were both shot in an isolated place, both were shot in the head, maybe no one heard the gunshots in either case. That’s all we have now.”
“Interesting, but not compelling comparisons,” said Diane.
“I’ll bet they were both shot with the same gun,” said Jin.
“Do we have the autopsy report on Blake Stanton?” asked Diane.
“No,” said David.
“Can you get it for me, along with McNair’s autopsy report?”
“Sure,” said David.
“Good. I’d like to look at the two of them together. I’d also like to know as soon as possible if anyone in the police department recognizes the picture we sent.”
“I can find that out,” said Neva.
Diane started to speak just as her cell phone rang. With the sense of dread that Patrice Stanton had inspired in her, she looked at the caller ID. Unknown caller. Shit. But she couldn’t keep avoiding answering any of her phones.
“Yes,” she said.
“Diane, Frank here.”
Diane grinned. “Frank, it is so good to hear from you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. How about I come over this evening with dinner and stay the night?”
“That would be great. It seems that I’m going to need an alibi twenty-four/seven.”
“What? What are you into now?”
“That’s the point. I’m not into anything. I’ll explain when I see you.”
“All right.” There was hesitation in his voice as he let her off the