Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,141
that Victoria was having an affair with Faith’s husband—which was motive.
However, Lucy felt strongly that Faith’s primary motive was because the Albright bones had been found. Faith knew that if Victoria heard about the bones she would know they were the Albrights’—or that once they were identified Victoria would realize that Faith and/or Harrison had killed her best friend and her family. Victoria was deeply involved in Harrison and Simon’s illegal gambling operations and subsequent money laundering, she would be able to turn over solid evidence had she been motivated to do so.
Yet … a woman scorned could never be underestimated.
But they had no witness, no murder weapon, and no physical evidence that Parker had been on the property. According to the ADA, Parker could claim that Clemson was lying because she gave him bad news or that she couldn’t get him out of his financial troubles. Clemson had no hard proof that Faith had killed Victoria. The blood had been found in his car, the defense could claim that he killed her. Ash Dominguez had practically taken the car apart, but there were no prints that didn’t match Clemson. He had definitely cleaned the interior, but Victoria’s blood was found on the carpet where the metal seat frame met the floor, and the side of the leather seat where it absorbed into the fabric.
Melissa Randolph’s statement was reliable, because Faith asked her directly to provide Clemson with the alibi, but that still didn’t prove that Faith had killed Victoria.
Clemson hadn’t seen a knife and claimed he took Parker straight home, so they were able to get a warrant to search Parker’s residence for the knife, clothing, and shoes that may have been worn during the crime. The DA also got a warrant for cell phone records to see if they could place Parker at the scene of the crime.
Chances were that Parker had gotten rid of the knife and the clothing—she was smart and a lawyer. Keeping them would be foolhardy. And while two months was a long time, with a stabbing as deep and violent as Victoria Mills’s, there could very well be blood in a seam or under the handle.
The biggest question was how Parker had gotten over to Clemson’s house in the first place. It was much too far to walk from her office or her house. Uber or a taxi would be traceable, though they would check with the taxi companies and with Parker’s credit card records. She didn’t drive her own car. If someone drove her, who? And why didn’t they pick her up—why bring Clemson into the situation at all?
But even though they didn’t have all the answers, they had enough to talk to Faith Parker Monroe.
And maybe, just maybe, she would slip up.
* * *
“I’m calling my lawyer,” was the first thing that Faith Parker Monroe said when Jennifer and Lucy arrived at her door and introduced themselves. “You can wait here.”
She began to close the door, but Jennifer put her boot in. “Actually, we have a warrant to search the premises and we don’t have a legal obligation to wait for your lawyer.”
“Let me see it. Now,” she said as if Jennifer had balked.
“Of course,” Jennifer said, her voice falsely sweet. She handed Parker the warrant. The DA had gone over it meticulously to make sure everything was in order before the judge signed it because he knew their suspect was an attorney. It was probably the cleanest warrant Lucy had ever seen.
Harrison walked into the entryway. “Faith?”
“They’re searching the house for clothes, shoes, and knives.”
“And you’ll also note that we have a warrant for your credit card records for the past six months, your cell phone and landline records, and a warrant that prohibits you from deleting any computer files or emails.”
“My computer files and emails are off-limits because of attorney-client privilege.”
“Which is why we have a warrant for your client names—which are not protected—so we can exclude those from any search of your hard drive. But in case you want to do a mass purge, this would make it a crime for you to do so.”
“We’ll see about that, Detective Reed.”
Parker looked at Lucy. “Who are you?” she demanded.
Lucy showed her badge. She had on her FBI jacket, so clearly the woman knew who she was.
“Special Agent Lucy Kincaid.”
“Kincaid,” she repeated, as if burning her name to memory. She looked Lucy straight in the eye and Lucy got the chills.