Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,57
the prosecution. I guess that disproves your theory that I always testify on the wrong side.”
“I didn’t say you always were on the wrong side, just usually.” He added a smile, as if to take away the sting of his words. “What was the date of the trial?”
“About five years ago.” She rattled off the exact date.
He pulled his computer in front of him and brought up one of the police databases.
His fingers flew across the keys, typing criteria into the search engine. He punched Enter and sat back to wait. It only took a few seconds for the result to fill the screen, a detailed report from the case file.
He whistled long and low. “Fullerton did a stint in the army as an EOD specialist.”
“EOD?”
“Explosive ordnance disposal, the military equivalent of a bomb technician.” He read a few more lines. “This may be it. You and McHenry both worked on the prosecution side. Jake made the original arrest, and I helped him build the case. You, Jake and I all testified in that case.” He read a few more lines, then looked up at her. “The judge assigned to the trial was Thompson.”
“Bingo,” Darby said. “What about the A.D.A., Victor Grant? Did he work the case?”
“No, doesn’t look like it.” He paged a few more screens in. “Wait, here he is, Victor Grant. He had a private practice back then. He was the defense attorney.”
“He defended Fullerton? That doesn’t make any sense, does it? If Fullerton is the bomber, and he wanted to get back at the people on his case, why would he go after his own lawyer?”
Rafe shrugged. “Maybe because his lawyer didn’t get him off? Fullerton was convicted of second-degree murder.” He typed a few more search strings, and another report filled the screen. “He was paroled a little over a year ago.”
“He only served four years for murder?”
“First offense, crowded jails, good behavior. It happens. I’ll give this information to Buresh and get the guys back at the station digging in. Fullerton’s on parole, so he has to check in with his parole officer on a regular basis. We’ll get his address and pick him up. Simple.” He punched the information into an email and pressed Send. “You, Darby Steele, are a very smart lady.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.
She wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Rafe or her.
He jerked back. “Sorry. I’m going to grab a quick shower. Then I’ll check with Buresh, see what comes of the Fullerton lead. With any luck, this could all be over in a couple of hours.”
He didn’t wait for her response. He grabbed his duffel bag and headed into the bathroom. Darby reached a shaky hand up to touch her mouth. That brief touch of Rafe’s lips on hers had her flushing hot all over. But to Rafe it had meant nothing, a mistake, something to apologize for.
She was glad the case was coming to a close. She desperately needed to regain control of her emotions and get off this crazy roller coaster.
The sun was going down, and the motel room plunged into darkness, but Darby didn’t move. A moment later, Rafe came out of the bathroom. His hair, newly shortened at the same salon where Darby had gotten her hair cut, was slightly damp. His broad shoulders were showcased in a fresh, dark blue collared shirt tucked into a pair of casual khaki pants. The man looked good enough to eat, but she’d never be invited to that table.
“Darby?”
He was waving his hand, as if to catch her attention. She’d been staring at his chest and must have zoned out. She smiled, until she saw the cell phone clutched in his hand and the serious expression on his face. “What is it? What’s happened? Did they find McHenry?”
“Not yet. Fullerton only checked in with his parole officer once, right after he got out of prison. His parole officer reported him missing, of course. Officers asked his known friends and family members if they’d seen him, but they didn’t do much more than that. Lack of resources. No one knows where he is.”
Chapter Fourteen
After finding out about McHenry and Fullerton, Rafe and Darby spent the night and most of the following day in the hotel waiting and hoping for good news—news that never came. Now they were driving down the highway again. Darby longed to go home, to her house on the beach, and let her stress wash away with the outgoing tide.