He gave her a dry look. “You always talk like that?”
“Usually I’m more polite before coffee.”
Despite himself, Ortiz almost smiled.
Amelia slid the photo of Danton across the table.
Ortiz looked at it and went still.
“You remember him,” she said.
“I remember that tattoo.”
“Why wasn’t he investigated further?”
Ortiz leaned back. “Because he had an alibi.”
“What alibi?”
“Said he was at a bar in Livingston until after midnight. Bartender confirmed it.”
“Which bartender?”
Ortiz’s jaw tightened. “A woman named Karen Vale.”
Amelia wrote it down. “Was she reliable?”
“She was dating Danton.”
Amelia’s pen stopped.
Ortiz looked toward the window. “I told them that mattered.”
“Who is ‘them’?”
“The lead detective. The prosecutor. Everyone above my pay grade.”
“And?”
“And they had Gavin Cole. Local man. Argument with the victim. Prints. Blood. Witness.” Ortiz tapped the photo. “Danton was messy. He brought in other names, other crimes, things the department didn’t want tied to a murder trial unless they had to be.”
