Sheriff Oleson resisted the urge to activate his patrol car's siren and flashing lights. Doing so would save precious minutes, but he needed to arrange his thoughts and priorities before reaching police headquarters.

His pulse hadn't slowed a beat since Detective Jana Burke's warning of a clash between an aggressive rookie and a senior detective assigned to Debra Padget's case. Derek deliberately lifted one finger after another to encourage his fists to relax their grip on the steering wheel. His mind was a dozen steps into the future when he brought a cardboard container to his lips, and cursed the cold crud he spit back into the cup.

Breaking my own rule about leaving trash in the patrol cars.

The detective sucked a mint to rid himself of the stale coffee taste and corralled his thoughts in the direction of what he knew so far about Debra Padget's murder. One development stood out: The theft of an antique gold cross from the victim's bedroom.

Why steal an item distinctive enough to be easily traced, and leave behind a collection of rare coins in the bedroom dresser?

The smattering of facts floating to the surface of the case presented a conflicted psychological profile of the killer. The man's call to Father Brian before leaving the crime scene had the earmarks of an opening gambit of a twisted psyche. Yet, the killer took time to carefully prepare and pose the corpse – not the act of someone releasing volcanic emotions.

If the man currently in custody proved to be Debra Padget's killer, it would put an end to concerns about the integrity of his Violent Crimes Task Force. But, in their haste to redeem themselves in the eyes of the public, their chief needed to be certain his detectives weren't tempted to make the fantasies of a potential publicity seeker fit the case.

Until he could ferret out the identity of the department's news leak, Sheriff Oleson recognized the wisdom of withholding certain details from the rest of the team. And, in order to avoid any tapping into his private conversations, he contacted dispatch from the sealed confines of his car, and had them patch him through to the forensic pathologist.

Doctor Franklin Bloomquist answered on the fifth ring. “Sheriff Oleson, you saved me a phone call. Just finished Debra Padget's autopsy. Had to piss off a few folks in order to make this a priority, but given the way this case has been handled so far, I thought it best to get the facts straight as soon as possible.”

Derek Oleson's cheeks flushed deep red at the insulting inference that he'd lost control of his murder investigation. But he lived by the adage of picking your fights, and decided to let Bloomquist's verbal jab go unanswered.

"Your initial impressions were that Debra Padget was drugged before being smothered, Franklin. Any idea what type of drug the killer used?"

“The tox screen isn't totally complete, but early indications are the killer used a high grade paralysis-inducing drug.”

“What exactly does that mean?” The detective's voice held shadings of frustration.

“What that means, Sheriff, is the drug had to have been obtained from the anesthesia department of a surgery facility.”

Derek pictured the man currently in custody and wearing hospital scrubs.

“Could a technician or nurse secure that kind of drug?”

“In the old days before nurses were indistinguishable from the cleaning people, I would have said such a thing was impossible. Still, I'm certain there are rigid security requirements for accessing the type of drug used.”

“Right. Anything else you care to share?”

The Coroner's response was unintelligible due to the fact he was concurrently cussing out an underling in the background.

“I didn't catch that, Franklin.”

“I said your vic wasn't sexually assaulted. The underwear we removed had no signs of semen or other bodily fluids. That doesn't mean he didn't grope her but there were definitely no signs of penetration. You're dealing with one shrewd perp, Sheriff, who likely wore gloves the whole time he was in the house.”

**********

The blonde in the Camaro took her eyes off Sheriff Oleson long enough to freshen her mauve lipstick. Tapping her cheeks to invite color to the surface, she lowered her mirror in time to see the object of her interest exit his car.

Derek was steps from the private entrance to his office when he heard someone hailing him from the parking lot.

“Sheriff Oleson, wait up. I need to speak with you!”

The detective viewed the approaching woman with suspicion, concerned she might be another member of the Press. But seeing her tight jeans, stiletto heels and low-cut blouse, curiosity replaced his impatience.

He waited for her to catch up, and tried to keep from laughing at the way her shoes caused her knees to bow outwards, making her look like a creeping crab.

Up close, she wasn't as young as the make-up and clothes were designed to make her appear, but she'd hardly broken a sweat, which was a lot better than he'd do running across a parking lot wearing high heels.

The woman finger-combed her short, wavy hair, giving Derek a chance to admire the rose tattoo on her wrist and her perfect manicure.

"I'm Debra Padget's niece, Darcy Shaw.” Tipping her head and smiling up at him sweetly, she continued, “I figured you'd want to talk with me, especially since I was the last person to see my aunt alive – except for the murderer, of course."

Darcy pulled her lips into a flirtatious pout when the detective made no response.

She playfully swatted his arm and continued, “It was quite a shock to learn of my Aunt Debra's murder over the television and not in person.”

Before he could respond to her complaint, the woman shot a hostile look in the direction of someone behind him. Hearing Jana Burke's voice, Sheriff Oleson thanked the gods for the detective's exquisite timing.

“Ms. Shaw, I apologize for the fact you were not notified personally about your aunt's death. I take full responsibility for that,” Jana said, firmly guiding the woman towards the main entrance of the Sheriff's Department. “Let's find a quiet spot, and I can take down all you remember about your last visit with your aunt.”

Quick as a trout following a brook's watery depths, Jana Burke had taken control of the situation, giving Derek time to slip away.

Later, he would ponder the possibility that Jana Burke could only have known the woman was Darcy Shaw if she had been eavesdropping from a hidden location.

~~~ to be continued~~~