Fast as a greyhound was an understatement.
She used a tissue from her pocket to relock the door, careful not to wipe away any possible fingerprints, then hurried back to Regina, who was collecting herself up off the floor. Her eyes weren’t totally focused on Sam.
“Are you okay?”
“I think I hit my head. Sorry. Did he get away?”
“He’s gone. Let me see.” Sam expertly ran her hands through Regina’s hair, feeling for the lump. She found it in the front, near her temple. She gave the girl a quick neurological exam, but she was focusing better.
“You’re going to have a headache, and you’ve got a little concussion. You might even sport a black eye tomorrow. Keep a close watch on yourself for the rest of the day. If your headache gets worse, go to the hospital immediately, okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just went down awkwardly. Hit my head on the edge of the cooler, of all things.”
“We’d best check the body. Whoever that was wanted something from Savage.”
They got Regina back to standing and entered the autopsy suite. The body was undisturbed.
Sam looked around the room but saw nothing out of place. “Regina, before he ran out of here, did you hear crying?”
“I thought I did. That is so weird. I’ve seen some odd things, but we’ve never had a breakin like this. Nothing taken, nothing disturbed. No harm, no foul. Oh, shoot. I better go check on Roy. He was supposed to be working on Mrs. Edmunds this afternoon.”
Sam collected the cooler, which had been knocked over when Regina fell on it, and checked inside. Everything was still in its place. Regina led them down the opposite hallway to the embalming room.
Roy was inside, earbuds in, studiously brushing a dead woman’s long silver hair. He didn’t hear them come in. Regina smiled, then signaled to Sam to back away.
Once in the hallway, she said, “If he’d been disturbed, he wouldn’t be so calm. He’s a nervous sort, my brother. Scared of his own shadow. But so good at his job. You need someone caring at this stage, and he’s a love. Come on. Let’s get back upstairs.” The girl’s natural exuberance showed itself. “I’m sure you want to call your cop friend, let him know we had a visitor.”
Sam called Fletch’s phone, but he didn’t answer. Moments later, they heard the doorbell ring.
“Ah, there they are,” Sam said.
They went to the foyer and Regina unlocked the front door. The men came in, both breathing heavily and sweating.
Regina took Davidson to the autopsy suite to show him what happened, leaving Sam and Fletcher alone. She handed him a bottle of water from her bag. He gulped greedily while she explained what had transpired, and Fletcher’s brows drew closer together.
“What happened earlier?” Sam asked.
“June caught a flash of the baseball cap, called out for him to stop, but he took off at a sprint. We got after him, but he ducked into the woods and disappeared. Poof, gone. He must have circled back and come in through the garage doors. Nothing’s missing?”
Sam shook her head. “Not that we can see. Fletch, he was standing over the body, and it sounded like he was crying. Do you think this could be the son, Henry Matcliff? The glimpse I had, he looked young.”
“Maybe. Xander checked in—he’s going into the woods to see if he can spot the man for us. Keep that under your hat for now.” His voice dropped, and she had to lean forward to hear him. “I don’t trust Davidson, not yet. I don’t think he’s told us everything about Savage. Something odd’s going on here.”
“No kidding.”
Before they could analyze things further, Davidson returned with Regina.
“We better get over to the law firm. I’ll send an officer out here to keep an eye on things until we get Savage’s wishes cleared up. Regina will keep watch, won’t you, honey?”
Regina rolled her eyes at the endearment, clearly offended, but nodded. She pointedly ignored Davidson, but shook Sam’s hand, and Fletcher’s. “Thanks for everything, Dr. Owens. I’ll see you around. You need anything, just call.”
She waited for them to leave, and Sam clearly heard the bolt thrown on the front door. Good. At least someone wasn’t going to take any chances.
*
The law offices of Benedict, Picker, Green and Thompson were on Rivermont Avenue, only a ten-minute drive from Hoyle’s. They were in a redbrick two-story Victorian dollhouse, complete with white trim and turrets, which, they soon found out, housed the firm’s library of law books.