Chapter 108

Chapter 108
Chapter Title: The Parcel

Kathy

Reynolds drove us straight to CPD. Neither of us said much during the ride.

The evidence bag containing the parcel sat between us, secured inside another evidence bag. Whatever was inside had already become more important than either of us wanted to admit.

When we pulled into the precinct parking lot, Reynolds grabbed the evidence bag while I swung my backpack over my shoulder.

"Come on."

Inside, the familiar chaos of the station greeted us—phones ringing, officers moving between desks, printers spitting out reports.

Reynolds didn't stop. He took us directly to the CSU wing, situated all the way in the back of the precinct building. We passed through a long corridor and a set of double doors that required an ID to access.

Unlike the front of the precinct, this place was eerily quiet.

"Where's the morgue?" I asked.

"In the basement," Reynolds said. "Why?"

"I need to see Dr. Healy. I want to look at those autopsy reports."

And hand him Kelly's case file, I thought.

Reynolds glanced at me. "We can do that later. Healy won't be going home anytime soon."

A technician met us at the evidence counter.

"This is a parcel from Sweet and Savory," Reynolds said. "It was left on the counter. There's no name, so we assume it's either for Kimberly Hastings or Special Agent Kathy Hastings."

The technician nodded and took the evidence bag. "Any idea what's inside?"

"No."

"Any reason to believe it's dangerous?"

Reynolds shook his head. "No. Too light for a bomb."

"Good enough for me."

He carefully opened the outer evidence bag and examined the parcel. I watched as he photographed it from every angle. Then he reached for a fingerprint brush and began dusting the cardboard.

"By the way," Reynolds said, "I need someone to head over to Sweet and Savory and get the staff's fingerprints. Jo handled the box before she handed it to us."

The technician nodded. "Will do."

He found several prints and lifted them with tape, placing each on a backing card. He examined them beneath a magnifier.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"What?" Reynolds asked.

"All of these are from one person. I suspect they're from the staff member who handled the box." He looked up. "Whoever handled it before Sweet and Savory either wore gloves or was careful about where they touched it." He turned the parcel over. "Let's see what's inside."

Using a blade, he carefully cut through the tape.

Inside was a small envelope nestled between sheets of red tissue paper.

Cream-colored. Black border. Heavy stock.

Elegant.

He photographed it before removing it. Then he opened the envelope.

His eyes widened.."It's an invitation to Senator Williamson's birthday celebration," he said. "The main event that culminates Crisfield's summer season."

"What?" Reynolds pulled on a pair of gloves. I did the same. "Let me see that."

The technician handed him the invitation. I leaned closer.

The card was embossed with a gold crest, the lettering rendered in flawless calligraphy.

THE WILLIAMSON FAMILY

REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE

AT THE BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION OF

SENATOR HENRY WILLIAMSON II

"It's safe to assume this isn't for Kimberly," Reynolds said. "As Hank's fiancée, she doesn't need an invitation to her soon-to-be father-in-law's birthday party."

I stared at it. "So you're saying I'm invited to his birthday party?"

He didn't answer. Instead, Reynolds flipped the invitation over.

Nothing.

"No name indicating who it's for, and no sender," he said.

"No handwritten message either," the CSU technician added.

Reynolds handed the invitation to me. I looked it over.

"Are you on the official guest list?"

I hesitated. Maybe Ace had sent me the invitation.

"Hastings?"

I slowly shook my head. "No."

"That's what I thought."

He took the invitation from me and handed it back to the technician, who began dusting it for prints.

"Anything?"

The technician sighed. "Nope. Nothing obvious." He held up the envelope. "They were careful. Whoever prepared this knew what they were doing."

"Can you get anything else?"

"Maybe trace evidence. But don't expect much."

Reynolds nodded. "Process everything."

The technician placed the invitation into a fresh evidence sleeve.

Reynolds stared at it. "The burner phone pinged at Sweet and Savory. And right around the time this package was delivered." His eyes met mine. "That's not a coincidence. I think someone wanted you to have this invitation. The question is why."

"That was my first inkling when I got the invitation to Cole's event," I said. "Ace invited me, but we couldn't get inside until I showed them my invitation."

"And then Allison's corpse showed up on a serving dish," he said. "Something's going to happen."

I nodded. "Exactly."

His gaze dropped to the invitation again. "Remember what the cemetery caretaker told me?"

"The two days?" I said.

Reynolds nodded. "The Senator's birthday celebration is in two days."

I looked at the invitation.

Suddenly, the timeline we'd been chasing felt less like a coincidence and more like a countdown.

"So whoever sent this knows what's coming," I said. "Or they're telling us when and where it's going to happen."

Reynolds looked toward the CSU technician then back at me. "And now we need to figure out why they want you there."

Before I could respond, another CSU technician walked out of the nearby double doors carrying a folder.

“Detective Reynolds? We’ve got something from Earl Lincoln’s case.”

Reynolds turned. “What?”

“We got a print off the cap of the whiskey bottle,” she said.

“Whose?”

The technician held up the report. “Benny Reed.”

Reynolds went still. “Papa Benny?”

She nodded. “Confirmed.”

“And the poison?”

“The lab confirmed cyanide.” She handed him the report.

My stomach turned.

Cyanide.

Tasteless, odorless, and deadly.

Reynolds nodded slowly as he scanned the documents and photographs. Then he handed the folder back and pulled out his phone. “I’m putting this on speaker.”

It rang once. Tate answered almost immediately.

“Reynolds, tell me you have good news.”

“CSU just confirmed Benny Reed’s fingerprints on the cap of the whiskey bottle found with Earl Lincoln’s body.”

“And the poison?” she asked.

“Cyanide.”

“Jesus," she exclaimed.

“I’m getting a warrant.”

“Where are you?”

“Precinct.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“No. I need you there. Besides, I’m getting the affidavit from someone who can move faster.”

“Who?”

“My cousin.”

Tate laughed. “Lena?”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck.”

Reynolds smiled. “She likes me.”

“She tolerates you.”

“Same thing.”

“I’ll get the team mobilized, then,” Tate said. “And Reynolds…”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry the hell up.”

The call ended.

I looked at him. “Your cousin is an attorney?”

“She’s married to my actual cousin, so technically she’s my cousin-in-law. Anyway, she’s an Assistant DA.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “As much as I want to know who sent you that invitation, first things first. Benny. We bring him in, maybe he'll talk.” He nodded toward the exit. “Let's go.”

I followed him toward the front doors. “Where are we headed?”

He glanced at his watch. “Bayview Heights.”

The drive to Bayview Heights took less than twenty minutes.

The neighborhood took my breath away again.

Large houses sat behind carefully maintained hedges. Expensive cars occupied spotless driveways. Even the sidewalks looked cleaner.

Reynolds pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story home, the faint glow of ambient light spilling from its tall windows.

“Your cousin lives here?”

“Unfortunately.”

I laughed. “And where do you live?”

His eyes widened in theatrical surprise. “Are you asking me to take you home with me?” He gasped dramatically. “I’m old-fashioned. I’ll take you home with me on the third date.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a piece of work.”

“And you’re cute when you pout,” he said with a smirk.

We both got out of the car and walked toward the front door. Before Reynolds could knock, it opened.

A woman stood there in a tailored business suit.

Her dark hair was pulled neatly back. She looked polished, confident, and completely put together.

Except for the fluffy slippers on her feet.

Her face immediately brightened. “Blake!” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Reynolds laughed and hugged her back. “Hey, Lena.”

She pulled away and looked him over. “So, has one of the exciting crimes of the past few days finally shown up on my doorstep?”

Reynolds nodded. “You have no idea.”

Her eyes moved to me. She smiled, then looked back at Blake. “I’m impressed. Seems God has answered your prayers.” She burst into laughter.

Reynolds groaned. “Lena.”

“What?” She grinned. “You didn't mention in your text that you were bringing someone.” She extended her hand toward me. “I’m Lena Reynolds.”

I took her hand and shook it. “Kathy Hastings.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Hastings?”

She opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, she stepped aside.

“Come on in. Pardon the mess. We just moved in.”

Inside, wedding gifts and half-opened boxes were scattered everywhere.

“Still opening the gifts, I see,” Reynolds said.

“It’s a nightmare.” Then she immediately shifted into business mode. “You’re here about Benny Reed, so I assume this isn't a social visit.”

Reynolds smiled. “No.”

“Good. Because all I have to offer you is wine, milk, cereal, and some strawberries.” She turned toward the hallway. “Let's get you that warrant.”

I followed them inside.

The geek Reynolds had described was nowhere to be seen.

In front of me stood a confident Assistant District Attorney who clearly knew exactly what she was doing.

And somehow, I had a feeling Lena Reynolds was about to become much more important to our investigation than any of us realized.