Free Never Happened by Debra Webb Page B

neighbors had told her that she’d heard the details on the radio earlier that morning.
    â€œWell, then why ya asking?” Another one of those smirks made Alex want to slap him cross-eyed.
    â€œMaybe I’m curious, Winston. Is that a crime?” She matched his stance, careful to prop her arms under her breasts for full enhancement.
    His gaze strayed to her cleavage. “I suppose not. It’s O’Neill’s house. He was found in the basement with all his computer equipment or what was left of it. It’s probably him, but we don’t have an officialconfirmation yet. The press is guessing the same as we are at this point.”
    â€œI suppose he’ll be identified by dental records?” That was the most commonly used method and the quickest.
    â€œThe lower jaw is intact and that’s about all.” He shook his head and let go a heavy breath. “But, unfortunately, we haven’t been able to track down a dentist who had him as a patient. His family insists he never went to a dentist as a child. So it’s way too early to say anything for sure.”
    Damn. “That’s too bad.” That meant no burying the body, no closure, until the remains had been officially ID’d. “Any idea what caused the explosion?”
    â€œWe’re still working on that.” He checked out her boobs once more. “Besides, you know I couldn’t give you anything about those details. We still have to determine if it was accidental or if foul play was involved.”
    â€œRight.” She tucked her hands into her back pockets. “See ya around, Winston.”
    â€œYeah.” His mobile rang.
    Alex slid behind the wheel of her car and stared at what used to be Timothy O’Neill’s home. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the place Henson had brought the contact lens.
    Her stomach cramped.
    Henson had called her, excited that the analysis had confirmed the lens was more than met the eye—no pun intended. Now Henson was dead. His friend who’d done the analysis was dead.
    All because of the contact lens she’d found. With either Henson or O’Neill abruptly dying she could call it a fluke, but with both, no way it was a mere coincidence.
    What did she do about that?
    How did she make Patton believe that this explosion had something to do with Henson’s accident—that it probably wasn’t an accident?
    She had no proof. Nothing.
    The story sounded melodramatic even to her. But she couldn’t just pretend it never happened. She owed it to Henson, it was the least she could do. She had to see this through whether the police believed her or not.
    Banging on the window next to her made her jump. Three seconds passed before Alex’s heart slid back down into her throat and started to beat again.
    She lowered her window and glared at Winston. “What?” He’d scared the hell of her.
    He grinned like a jackass. “Thought I’d let youknow that I’d just gotten a call about a possible homicide scene not too far from here. I can give you the address if you want to run over there and see if there’s any work to be drummed up.”
    She didn’t give him the finger, which had been her first inclination. Instead she smiled, pulled the gear shift into Reverse and rolled away from him. He was still laughing when she glanced into her rearview mirror after turning around and driving away.
    Asshole.
    Alex drove back to the office. As usual, her parking spot was taken. She squeezed into an open space between a Cadillac and a Honda.
    â€œGot a call.” Shannon was waving a message at her as she walked through the door. Alex wondered vaguely whatever happened to “Hello, how has your morning been?”
    She snagged the message. “Thanks. Where’s Marg?” The lounge door was wide open and from her position in front of Shannon’s desk Alex could see that the room was empty. This