“What was that?” Morgan asked.

“Erik’s mother.” Esposito’s brow furrowed. “Mrs. Olander claimed Erik was innocent. She repeated a few lines about an intruder killing her daughter-in-law. Every time I asked her, she said the exact same words, verbatim.”

“Her statement was rehearsed.” Morgan took notes.

“Yes.” Esposito’s chair squeaked as he suddenly leaned back. “And every time she spoke, she’d glance at her husband. I swear she didn’t breathe until he approved.”

“Did you try questioning her alone?” Morgan would have separated the couple immediately.

“Of course we did.” Esposito all but rolled his eyes. “As did the original officer who responded to the farm about the intruder call. All of her statements were identical. She was even more nervous alone, and she repeated the exact same sentences. No matter how the questions were phrased. If we deviated from questions about the night or crime, she stopped talking. I think she would have exploded if I asked her what her favorite color was.”

Morgan set down her pen. “You think she was afraid of her husband.”

Who Lance and Sharp suspected was trafficking illegal guns.

“I do.” Esposito frowned. “Erik’s mother shot herself in her car right after she met with you.”

Remembering, Morgan swallowed. “Yes.”

Lance tapped a knuckle on the table. “Erik killed Natalie, and Mrs. Olander was afraid of her husband. Possibly both wives were victims of domestic abuse. But neither of those things feels like a reason to kidnap Olivia.”

Lance was right. They needed to focus on Olivia, not Mrs. Olander.

Morgan checked her notes. “What about the issue with the jury foreman?”

Esposito scoffed. “Olander’s attorney filed a notice of appeal, but we all know it won’t go anywhere. The jury didn’t deliberate long. Their decision was unanimous. No holdouts. No hint of a hung jury. Nothing.”

Maybe the Olander case, as strange as the family was, had nothing to do with Olivia’s disappearance.

“You said Ms. Cruz was working on two cases,” Esposito prompted. “What was the second?”

Lance volunteered, “Cliff Franklin.”

The smallest glimmer of surprise showed in the ADA’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my case.” Esposito stood, smoothing his already-perfect hair. “You’ll have to ask Bryce about it. I have to get back to work.” He reached for Morgan’s hand and shook it for a few seconds too long. “Ms. Dane. Always a pleasure.” He shot an arrogant glance at Lance. “Kruger.” The tone was dismissive and smug. Esposito took two strides to the doorway.

Morgan had to control rolling her eyes. Esposito liked to tweak Lance whenever possible. The ADA was a skilled trial attorney. Unfortunately, arrogance often accompanied that ability, and Esposito was full of it.

“Is Bryce in today?” Morgan called after him.

“No.” He paused to shake his head but offered no additional information before he left the room.

“What now?” Lance got to his feet and stretched. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it. “No word from Sharp.”

She followed Lance from the room and out of the DA’s offices. Once the elevator doors closed, she asked, “Why did you insist we invite Esposito to the wedding again? He works hard to aggravate you.”

“Because I want him to see us get married.” Lance grinned.

Morgan shook her head. “You two are ridiculous.”

Lance shrugged. “He started it.”

They left the building and crossed the parking lot to Lance’s Jeep. Morgan’s phone vibrated in her pocket as they climbed into the vehicle. She pulled it out and opened a text. “Grandpa says he found something.”

She fastened her seat belt, then called her grandfather’s cell phone. He answered on the first ring.

She raised the phone in front of her face. “You’re on speaker, Grandpa.”

“Let me go into my room.” He huffed and puffed.

Morgan worried about his heart and blood pressure and the butter and bacon he loved. She could hear the television and the kids in the background and guessed he was hauling himself out of his recliner. A door closed.

“OK, I’m here.” His voice was breathless. “So I started with Olivia’s notes on the Franklin murder trial. She made following her research easy, cross-referencing her comments with the trial transcript.” Grandpa cleared his throat. “Olivia flagged two evidentiary errors. First of all, there was a minor error in the original search warrant. The house number in the address was incorrect by one digit. Cliff Franklin’s attorney called this out during the trial and motioned to have all evidence obtained via that search suppressed. However, the judge overruled his objection. There were enough additional details describing the house to establish it was the correct location.”

Contrary to public belief, minor errors on search warrants do not automatically disallow all evidence found during that search. As a failsafe, the police add descriptive elements to search warrants. Sometimes they include directions on how to arrive at the house; a description of the residence, including details such as house color and trim; and the official tax lot description on file for the location. If a reasonable person would still know which house to search, even with the street address error, then the warrant can generally be upheld.

“The second error Olivia found was not called out during the trial, and it’s a big deal.” Grandpa paused for a breath. “One of the key pieces of evidence was the victim’s hairs that were found in Cliff Franklin’s trunk. But more hairs were submitted to the lab than were logged in by the exhibits officer. So it appears that not all the hairs went through the proper chain of custody.”

There should have been no doubt as to where every single piece of evidence was located at any time during collection, testing, or storage. Failure to maintain the chain of custody allows the defense to suggest that evidence could have been contaminated, tampered with, or even planted.

“Let me guess.” Morgan rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The hairs that matched the victim were the ones missing from the evidence log.”

“Bingo,” Grandpa said. “There was other evidence, but the majority of it was circumstantial. One of Brandi’s friends stated that Brandi thought Cliff was creepy. He’d been seen near her apartment building, and she’d texted that friend that she thought he was following her to the grocery store.”

“What about additional physical evidence?” Morgan asked.

“Her body had been washed, and the dish soap residue matched the brand found under the kitchen sink in the Franklin house. But it’s a common brand.”

“Tell me more about her death,” Morgan said.

“Her car was found on the side of Gravelly Road,” Grandpa said. “Brandi was on her way to the community college, where she was taking night classes. Her engine had seized. Someone had put sugar in the gas tank. Cliff Franklin was an auto mechanic, so he’d know how to do that, but there’s no evidence he was the person who did. The security cameras in her apartment complex’s parking lot were not working. A silver Honda Accord was caught on the surveillance camera feed of the convenience store across the street from the apartment complex. It pulled out behind Brandi as she left for class. Cliff Franklin drives a silver Honda Accord. However, the license plate was covered in mud and the vehicle had no distinguishing features. The video from the night camera was grainy.”