Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,33

Black leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Diamond, when you saw Ridley yesterday, was he wearing gloves?”

Emmy closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. “No, he wasn’t. And the convention centre was hot as hell. I only kept my jacket on because…” She glanced at O’Shaughnessy. No, best not to admit that she’d smuggled a gun past the metal detectors. “Never mind. Anyhow, gloves would have looked weird.”

“Malorie, you mentioned a bag. Yet there was no bag listed on the police evidence log. What happened to it?”

Good spot. Guess that was why Black earned the big bucks. That and apparently having his tentacles deep inside the Kentucky police force’s databases.

Malorie sat up straighter. “I… I don’t know.”

“Did you pick it up?”

“I think I put it in the box with the flyers. Everything was in chaos, and people were shouting, and…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Emmy tried to soothe her. “Where did the box end up?”

“Maybe on the bus? I have no idea.”

Black looked straight at O’Shaughnessy. “Get me onto that bus. We’ll also need your fingerprints for elimination purposes. Malorie’s too.”

O’Shaughnessy gulped and nodded. “Let me make a call.”

Two prints. They found two unknown prints on the oversized metal zipper tab, one each side, thumb and finger by the positioning. Black had photographed the laptop bag in situ on the bus, careful to follow evidence collection rules in case their findings were ever needed in court, then they’d couriered the package to the nearest Blackwood lab in Cincinnati, where a team was on standby. They had the results by the time Beth served dessert. In terms of resources, Blackwood was Harrods to Sirius’s Mom ’n’ Pop general store.

But who did the print belong to?

The working hypothesis was that Ridley was involved, but Mack hit a snag when she dug his fingerprint records out of the FBI database—they were held there by virtue of his military service.

“They’re smeared,” she said. “Forensics says there’s one small area that looks the same, but the rest is too smudged for a conclusive match.”

“Why are they smudged?” Beth asked. Alaric was pleased to see her taking an interest in the case. “Did he sabotage them or something?”

Black shook his head. “Poor-quality prints are more common than you’d think. You get printed as a matter of routine at the beginning of your military career, and the people handling the process aren’t always as careful as we’d hope. Estimates suggest around a third of prints on file have imperfections, some worse than others.”

“So we can’t prove that Eric Ridley was involved? Kyla Devane will get away with ruining a man’s reputation?”

“No, he won’t. It just means we have to get more creative.”

Alaric was glad Black had chosen to fight on the same side as him for once. He wasn’t sure what “more creative” meant, but he wouldn’t have wanted to be in Ridley’s shoes at that particular moment.

“Define ‘creative,’” Emmy said.

Black held out a hand to her, and when she placed hers into it, he brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them.

“Join me for dinner, Diamond.”

“We just ate dinner.”

“Thursday evening at the O Club.”

“The O Club?” Beth’s eyes widened, and Alaric realised where her thoughts had gone. Not that kind of O, sweetheart. But he liked the way her mind worked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“Short for the Officer’s Club. It’s a hotel in Norfolk, Virginia,” Black clarified. “And the day after tomorrow, it’s hosting Destroyer Squadron Twenty-Six’s annual get-together. Ridley will be there. He never misses an opportunity to dress up and brag about his conquests. I usually skip it.”

“Then how do you know he goes?” Alaric asked.

Black glared at him. “I skim the newsletter.”

After their recent run of bad luck, they deserved a break. And if Ridley did show up at the dinner as Black predicted, it would save them from following the man to restaurants, rallies, and other random places. Emmy laughed, then twisted Black’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips in a return of his gesture.

“It’s a date, Chuck.”

CHAPTER 13 - ALARIC

“YOU’RE NOT TIRED?” Alaric asked.

Beth had yawned three times since dessert, but rather than going to bed, she flopped onto the couch in the living room. Her blonde hair spread out along the top of the cushions. The two of them had spent little more than a day at Riverley, but that had been enough time for Bradley to cut it into layers and dye it a few shades darker. More than ever, Alaric itched to run