Dust to Dust by Beverly Connor Read Free Book Online Page A

police force and a good friend of Frank’s. He hadn’t liked Diane much at first, but with the unexpected death of his son came a change in his priorities. Observing how Diane and her team collected evidence that actually put criminals behind bars, he decided he wanted to join their team. Neva said he was learning forensics very quickly. Diane noticed he did seem, if not happier, more involved and satisfied with life.
    “What are you doing?” David asked.
    “I’m taking Marcella Payden’s work to her office in the museum. David, I need you to pack up her computer equipment. And, Izzy, would you mind figuring out a way to pack up her television?”
    “Her TV?” said Izzy. “You’re taking her TV? Can you do that?”
    “Sure,” said David. “Diane’s powers would let her come into your house and take things away if she wished. Besides, the crime lab could use a large-screen, high-definition television.”
    “Seriously,” said Izzy, frowning at David.
    “I spoke with her daughter,” said Diane. “She asked that we take Marcella’s work, her computer, and the TV to her office in the museum for safekeeping because of the break-in.”
    “Just checking,” said Izzy.
    “What have you found?” Diane asked them, making a fruitless effort to dust off particles of Styrofoam peanuts that clung to her clothes.
    “I found several bullet casings,” said David. “The road in back of the house is paved, even though it’s a pretty old road—no tire marks. I did trace their getaway through the woods and collected some fiber evidence. That’s about it. One odd thing. I found two broken pottery sherds on the road. Looked kind of archaeological. I collected them. I don’t know if they’re connected to our suspects, but since Marcella is an archaeologist . . .” He shrugged. “Who knows?”
    Diane raised her eyebrows. “I wonder if they were looking for Indian artifacts? If they were, I don’t think they made it to this room.”
    David shrugged again. “Maybe that was what they were after, but . . . I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. That many guys for some Indian pottery? Is it that valuable?”
    “I don’t know either,” said Diane. “Some is, I think. But you’re right. It doesn’t feel quite right. What about you, Izzy? Find anything?”
    “I took a couple of casts of shoe prints outside in the dirt. Like David, I found fibers where they rolled around on the ground. I found lots of sequins.” He grinned. “You must have rolled all the way down to the bottom of the bank.”
    Diane smiled. “I did. Good work. What’s your sense of what’s going on?” she asked Izzy. “Do you think the attack on Marcella and the break-in early this morning are two separate events or part of the same crime?”
    “I don’t know,” said Izzy. “Like David said, it feels strange, but hell, guys will break in to steal just about anything these days. I’m thinking they would’ve been interested in the electronics up here. But maybe they didn’t get this far. I’m with you on the problem of how they knew the house would be empty—maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they knew that just one little old lady lived here. Maybe they saw activity here earlier and her being carried away.” Izzy shrugged. “There’s also the problem of there being no sign of forced entry. Did she leave her doors unlocked? Did she let the attacker in and he left without locking the door behind him? I know some people leave their doors unlocked, but usually not older women living alone away from neighbors, like this house is.”
    “I agree,” said David. “Too many questions and not enough information for answers.”
    “Besides,” said Izzy, “it’s Hanks’ job to figure this stuff out.”
    Izzy had told Diane that some of the Rosewood detectives thought she insinuated herself too many times in their cases. Diane thought it was an unfair accusation. She never interfered in cases unless she was brought in by the detectives