Free First Born by Tricia Zoeller Page B

volunteered Caldwell. “They were at a charity event at the High Museum of Art the night of Ms. Moore’s abduction. They arrived home around one in the morning and went to sleep. Got up around 6:00 a.m. for work. Nothing unusual according to them or their neighbors other than some injured dog at their door in the middle of the night.”
    “Jones didn’t report any suspicious behavior by Moore that day or in the days leading up to it?” Lake asked.
    “No, he just said she hadn’t been feeling well. Mr. Jones was extremely upset and worried. According to co-workers they were close.”
    “What kind of dog?” interrupted Gates.
    Caldwell turned to him confused, “Pardon me?”
    “I was just curious what kind of dog they found.”
    “One of those fluffy, little, um...designer kinds,” struggled Caldwell.
    “Huh,” grunted Gates, his arms crossed. “How was it hurt?”
    Lake looked over at Caldwell.
    “Face and head. Around its one eye.” Caldwell gestured with his hands.
    “Did they take it to a vet?” Gates asked.
    “I really don’t know.”
    “Well, they should have,” he admonished.
    “You’re right,” Caldwell admitted. “I’ll mention it when I check back with them.”
    An appeased Gates focused his attention back on Lake. “By the way, we found some new evidence—a men’s hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants almost two miles northwest on Seventeenth Street. Dogs tracked Ms. Moore’s scent on it. Tiny mentioned he was able to pull some hair strands off the sweatshirt. He bagged it and turned it into the lab.
    Lake sat up in his chair. “Thanks, Gates. Maybe we’ve caught a break on the Moore case.”
    Gates didn’t respond.
    “What is it?” Lake asked.
    “I know Tiny sent some of the evidence from the Moore/Miller scene to that special lab in Oregon. He thinks some exotic animal is involved.” Simms knew Gates was referring to the National Fish and Wildlife Forensics Laboratory.
    Lake nodded.
    Gates studied his cuticles. Caldwell heard him swallow. “I just. Well, you know, I am acquainted with the Miller family. That boy...I was his football coach in middle school. I know his mama.” Gates lips were a tight line. His face showed disgust. “Someone hurt that boy. I know the Moore girl is hurt too. God help me, I hope she’s okay, but I don’t like the implications going around that he...he was dishonorable in some way to her.”
    Simms talked himself down. He had seen things. Things that indicated Lily Moore’s head had slammed against the car window, hard. Maybe it was some bizarre animal attack, but why was Moore outside Miller’s car in a deserted parking lot? Gates’s face showed how troubled he was. “I hear you. We’re looking at every detail. Considering all pieces of this puzzle.”
    Lieutenant Lake nodded.
    “Good.” He got up. “I’ll keep tracking. Something weird’s going on. I’ve never seen the hounds so confused.”
    “Thanks. Keep me posted.” Lake patted him on the back as he left.
    Caldwell knew his face reflected his inner turmoil.
    “Spit it out,” Lake said when he turned to him.
    “You know who arrested Phillip Miller for drunk driving?”
    “I know. Officer Arthur Moore.”
    Caldwell grimaced. “And gave him the ticket for reckless driving—a separate incident, I might add.”
    “Keep working the connection here, Simms. I want to know all their habits, their hobbies, quirks. Let’s connect the dots so we have something concrete,” he said, stabbing the board with his index finger.
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “We have new evidence. Tonight, Lily Moore’s mother is supposed to ping you when she gets back in town. I want you to go out there, get a sense of things. Then go back to everyone in Moore’s circle. See if there are any holes.”
    “Think I’ll start with her brother,” Caldwell said.
    “Okay,” Lake said.
    Caldwell waited.
    “What?”
    “Lieutenant, what’s the scoop with Seth Moore?” Caldwell only had been with the APD for a year