Rhett nodded. “He’s not our suspect.”
Damn. Then where exactly did this leave them? Most crimes were personal. The gunshot wound at the back of the head suggested guilt; the killer didn’t want to watch the victim die.
Why?
“We need to look at this again with fresh eyes.” Frustrated, Boone settled in front of the whiteboard where all the facts were now either written or posted. Not that it was doing them any good. “There’s something we’re missing here.”
“Yeah,” Rhett said. “The killer.”
Boone snorted, staring into Francis’s clear eyes in her photograph. They’d gone into her history. Yeah, she had some skeletons in her closet, but who didn’t? Hell, if Boone’s dad hadn’t been a cop back in the day, Boone would’ve been hit with an underage drinking charge as a teen when he got caught with alcohol in the park.
“Anything from her family?” Boone asked, turning back to Rhett.
Rhett folded his arms across his black T-shirt, shaking his head. “Her parents had been close to Francis, but said since she’d met her ex, she’d become distant.”
“No siblings?”
&nbs
p; “Not that they told me. I’ll go back and take a harder look at the parents today. But my gut tells me there’s nothing there.”
Boone mulled this over. The murder didn’t feel random, a spontaneous act of violence. Francis wasn’t raped or sexually assaulted. Again, he kept circling back to the same thing. “The murder feels personal.”
“That’s where I’m at with this too.”
Needing to think this through, Boone moved to the long table across from Rhett that was pushed up against the wall, and leaned against the edge, folding his arms. “Anything come from the cameras on Main Street?”
“The only camera aimed at the back side of the buildings is at Kinsley’s bar”—and that’s only because Boone had her install it—“sadly, though, it doesn’t extend to the back door of Peyton’s shop. The cameras on Main Street didn’t show anyone going in the front door.”
Boone sighed, considering again. “All right. We know that Francis was murdered sometime between nine and eleven at night.”
“Yeah,” Rhett confirmed. “And that her shitty ex-boyfriend isn’t involved.”
“And that the robbery appeared to be staged.” Boone studied the facts laid out on the board in front of him. “We’ve got nothing more from the crime lab?” The only word they’d heard back so far was on the autopsy report. A through-and-through gunshot wound to the back of the head. No defensive wounds.
“Crime techs are working through the prints now. No hits so far.”
Which meant that the prints on file weren’t in AFIS. More and more, Boone kept circling back to the gunshot wound. “Any similar crimes in the area?”
“Minus the murder, a bunch of robberies around town,” Rhett said.
Boone ran a hand over his eyes. He didn’t like this. Not when Peyton was involved. And not with the murder taking place so close to Kinsley’s club. “We’re missing something. I can feel it.”
“All we need is one break,” Rhett said. “It’ll happen. It’s always does, especially with the parents offering up a reward.” He hesitated. “Now don’t lose your shit, but I think it’s time to take a harder look at Peyton, especially considering the victim looked like Peyton, and the robbery happened in her store. She got any secrets?”
Boone exhaled deeply, forcing himself not to get his back up. Rhett was right—the case moved where it moved, and Boone needed to let it. “She’s hiding a few things, but I doubt they involve this case.” Hell, he understood hiding one’s past. He’d been an expert at refusing to talk about his life in New York City. “She’s a brokenhearted widow. Her secrets lie there.”
Rhett cocked his head, eyes turning inquisitive. “You’re sure about that?”
“Pretty sure, but my feelings toward her might blur things.” Which was precisely why Boone wasn’t lead on this case.
Rhett nodded. “I’ll go have a chat with her later today.”
Boone sighed and pushed off the windowsill, coming back to the table, where he put the case files back into the box. “Do what you gotta do,” he said, knowing Peyton needed a look into, even if he didn’t like it. “I’m going to grab lunch and hope that the reports are in once I’m back.”
“Lunch, huh?” Rhett asked with a smile. “Does this lunch involve a pretty blond down the road?”
“It involves me getting food,” Boone said.