She shrugged. “Hey, that’s Homicide 101. The husband—or, in this case, wife—is usually the prime suspect.”
“So, if you ended up on the slab in my office, it would be because I was the one who put you there?”
“Don’t act cute with me, Luc. You know what I mean.”
He had to admit she had a point. She wasn’t entirely wrong. In most murder cases, it was a safe bet that the victim was killed by someone close to them. The surviving spouse was always going to be the first one questioned, whether because they had pertinent information or because they were the perpetrator.
“What can you tell me about Sullivan’s wife?”
Without even looking at her notes, Caitlin rattled of the woman’s information. “Tessa Sullivan. Twenty-five. Light brown hair, hazelish eyes. I put her at 5’4”, maybe 5’5”, 115 pounds. Petite. Worked as a kindergarten teacher before getting married to Sullivan last September.”
Lucas called up a mental image of the woman and compared it to the brute strength required to both incapacitate and then execute a man of Sullivan’s size. “And you think she could do this to her husband?”
“You haven’t seen her yet. I have. Ignore the stats for a minute, Luc. I’m telling you, she’s got this… this look in her eyes. It could’ve been her.” Slapping her notepad against her thigh, Caitlin muttered under her breath, “Damn it, it should be her.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her heated reaction. When it came to her job, she was cold and clinical. Evidence solved cases, not her personal feelings.
The Sullivan woman had gotten under Cait’s skin.
Interesting.
7
He was saved from having to respond by the soft sound of the bathroom door opening. After Caitlin’s last comment, Lucas wanted to get a good look at Tessa Sullivan himself.
Except the shadow that led the way was far too big for the petite woman Caitlin described. A quiet murmur echoed in the hotel room and then Mason Walsh stepped out.
He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Lucas. “Hey, doc. Sheriff called you in?”
Lucas nodded. “I’ve done all I can here. I’m gonna call in a couple of favors, see if I can get some help moving your vic over to my place.” He glanced over at Caitlin. “Are you done with him?
“Yeah. I promised Bonnie that I’d clear this room as soon as possible. We can get the DB out of here, then my guys can start processing the scene. Willie’s gonna come in early and pull a double shift at the station in order to free up the fellas. Mason and Sly can help me out here, then I can give them a couple of hours down each.”
Mason cleared his throat. “Actually, boss, I thought I would see about getting our witness settled somewhere else.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s too hard for her to focus on giving a coherent statement when she knows her husband is lying in his bed like that. I got her to stop crying so much, but it’s rough. She wants to go.”
“No,” Caitlin said flatly.
“Sheriff—”
“Deputy, I told you that I didn't want her leaving. Was I unclear before?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then we’re done here. Let's leave the wife with Caro and Roy while we get to work on the crime scene.”
Mason puffed out his chest. “With all due respect, Sheriff, I still think I should move her first. She doesn’t want to stay at the inn anymore. I get that.”
Caitlin rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was used to Mason doing what he was told. Her head was already pounding. Why was her deputy making this harder for her?
“Are you serious? Bonnie has more than twelve rooms open in her place at any given time. The outsider only died in this one.”
“Wow, Caity,” Lucas murmured under his breath. “Wow. So sensitive.”
“Zip it, Luc. You know I?