Текст книги "Malevolent"

Автор книги: Jana Deleon

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“Yes, but someone who knew certain traits about David is, and no one was stalking Emma before she killed her husband.”

“Okay. I’ll give you the personal traits item. And I agree the timing is suspect, if we assume that the stalking is a recent occurrence. But it could be that someone was stalking Ms. Frederick before she killed David and she simply wasn’t paying close attention then because she was focused on her marital problems.”

“That’s fair enough,” Shaye said, but he could tell she didn’t like conceding the point. “But if we assume someone was stalking Emma before David returned from Iraq, then the question is why? She doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who goes around making enemies.”

“Agreed. I don’t think Ms. Frederick is intentionally seeking out trouble, but by virtue of her job, she could have gotten a rise out of someone unstable…say someone who lost a loved one under her care and is looking for someone to blame.”

Shaye frowned.

“You’re wondering if someone would really take things that far over something so innocuous,” he said.

“No, not at all. I have a limited amount of faith in humans as a species, and have little problem imagining someone that petty and insane.”

Jackson marveled at the way she easily processed a diabolical mind. “You are a wealth of comfort, Ms. Archer.”

 “People can see their friends, mother, priest for comfort. That’s not part of my job description. But in my next meeting with Emma, I’ll ask about her patients.”

“Even though you’re still leaning toward the David connection theory?”

“Yes. Again, it’s the timing and the personal information, and that whole coincidence thing.”

If he was being honest, Jackson agreed with her. Assuming Emma Frederick had a stalker, it was more likely someone connected to her dead husband rather than a patient. But the thought of this young, inexperienced woman tangling with the kind of person who’d go on a revenge kick over a piece of shit like David Grange had him feeling more than a little uneasy.

“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking? Jackson asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Fair enough. Because you look too young to hold a private investigator’s license. And that’s a compliment, not an insult.”

“I’m twenty-four and an overachiever.”

“Good for you. Who did you intern with?”

“Breaux Investigations.”

Jackson knew the agency by reputation. They operated a clean business, mostly handling insurance fraud and disability cases. He’d never heard of them delving into the felony end of things.

“What?” Shaye asked. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where there’s something you want to say to me, but you’re figuring I’ll tell you to mind your business.”

“Or something less polite given your love of truthful and direct. Tell you what, instead of the big brother speech, I’ll just split the difference and say ‘Please be careful with your investigation.’”

“Of course, but why the advice?”

“If someone is stalking Emma Frederick and you get in the middle of it, you’ll just be an obstacle in the way of what he wants.”

Her expression darkened a bit, but he could tell it was a conclusion she’d already come to herself. She might be young, but she wasn’t as naive as he expected.

He rose, placed some money on the table for Christi, then pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it to Shaye. “That’s my cell number. If you run into trouble or get a hold of evidence that I can work with, give me a call.”

She took the card and nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He crossed the café and opened the door. As he stepped outside, he glanced back and saw her tucking his card into her purse. Maybe she’d be all right. A stalker versus a young, pretty, and inexperienced PI didn’t seem like a fair match, but there was something about Shaye Archer that made him think she was a lot tougher than she appeared.

He hoped his impression was correct. Because if the stalker turned out to be real, she was putting herself right in the line of sight of someone mentally unhinged.

Chapter Five

Emma pulled on her top and grabbed her purse. Housekeeping carts lined the hotel hallway, and she said hello to the ladies as she passed. She’d been so wound up when she got to the hotel early that morning that it had taken her hours to fall asleep. Even though she’d partaken in the minibar and tuned the television to infomercials. It was now 10:00 a.m. and she’d finally given up the thought of getting any real rest.

The only good thing about today was it was her day off. First, she was going to grab some breakfast in the hotel restaurant, then she was going to see to her car. She got into the elevator and pulled out her cell phone, then dialed the car dealership.

“Hi,” she said when the service adviser answered. “This is Emma Frederick. I had a problem with my car battery last night. Can I bring that in today and have someone check it out?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Frederick,” the service adviser said, “but we’re already overbooked. June in New Orleans. Everyone’s got AC problems. I could probably fit you in next Monday.”

Emma stepped out of the elevator. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just find a service shop to take a look. It’s probably nothing.”

“Well, if they find it’s anything but the battery, give me a call back. Your car’s still under warranty.”

“Thanks.” She hung up the phone and walked into the restaurant. “Can I get a toasted bagel with cream cheese to go?” she asked the hostess.

“Certainly,” the girl said. “I’ll have one of the servers get that right out for you.”

“Great.” She walked over to the nearest table and sat down. Given the late hour, only a couple of tables were occupied. Everyone else had headed off to their business meetings or out into the Quarter for tourist pursuits. She pulled up Safari on her phone and tried to think of the name of the garage her aunt had used to service her car. It was in Bywater and it was someone’s name, but that’s as much as she could recall.

She did a search for “car repair” and “Bywater” and the garage name popped right up on top of the list. Andy’s Auto Repair. That was it. She pressed the button to call and by the time the server brought her bagel out, she’d talked to a nice man named Jimmy who said he’d be happy to take a look at her car any time that day. She paid for the bagel and headed out to the valet.

Given the time of day, the drive from the hotel to Bywater only took ten minutes. Jimmy was tall and skinny and probably all of twenty years old. She explained the situation with the battery, and he took her keys and assured her he’d check it out and would have it back to her in thirty to forty-five minutes. Then he pointed down the street to a café and said they had the best coffee and doughnuts in Bywater.

She thanked him and set off down the street. The bagel had filled her up just fine, but a latte and doughnuts sounded like a much better option than spending the next thirty minutes hanging around the waiting area of the garage.

Halfway down the block, the skin on the back of her neck started to prickle. She stopped short and spun around, scanning the street. There were probably fifteen people in her view—a couple of vendors changing signs outside their shops, two mothers pushing strollers down the sidewalk, three young boys with bicycles talking at the corner, a crowd of older men hovered over the engine bay of an old Mustang, and some random couples and individuals making their way to wherever they were going.

No one looked out of place. No one was looking at her.

But she could feel eyes on her.

She turned around and continued down the street, chiding herself for being so jumpy. Now was not the time to get paranoid. It was broad daylight, and she was in the middle of a street with a bunch of other people. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to approach her here. Not when there were witnesses.

At the end of the street, she checked for traffic and was just about to cross when she heard someone yelling behind her.

“Ma’am! You dropped this.”

She turned around and saw a boy of probably fifteen or so approaching on a skateboard. His long blond hair was dirty and pulled back into a ponytail. The rest of him didn’t look much cleaner than his hair.

He stopped in front of her and stepped off the skateboard. “You dropped this.” He held up a light blue scarf with white stars.

Panic raced through her body and she felt her knees buckle. She took two steps backward and leaned against the wall of the nearest building. “Where did you get that?”

The boy stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “It’s just a scarf.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Some dude down the street. He said he saw you drop it and asked me to bring it to you. Are you going to take it or what?”

He took a step closer to her and presented the scarf again.

Even though it made her stomach roll, she took the scarf from the boy. Her hand felt as if the silk were burning it. “What did the man look like?”

The boy shrugged. “Like a white dude.”

“Please. It’s important.”

The boy stared at her for a bit and she thought he was going to tell her to take a hike, but something in her tone must have convinced him to talk. “He was good-sized. Not skinny or nothing. Had really short black hair. Military cut, you know?”

With every word the boy spoke, Emma’s breathing became more and more shallow. “How old was he?”

The boy shrugged. “About your age, I guess.”

“Did you see which way he went?”

“That way.” He pointed behind them.

“Have you ever seen him before?”

“Nah, but folks come from all over to have their cars fixed at Andy’s. I ain’t ever seen you before, either. I need to get going. I got work to do.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He gave her a nod, then put one foot on the skateboard and rolled off down the street.

Emma pushed herself off the wall and headed back to Andy’s, forcing herself to walk rather than run. That scarf had been a Christmas gift from David.

One of the items that she’d boxed up last week and thrown away.

By the time she reached Andy’s, she was drenched with sweat and her pulse was racing. She pulled open the door to the shop and stepped into the tiny waiting area. A small refrigerator full of bottled water stood in the corner. She hurried over to grab one of the bottles, but her hands shook so badly that it slipped from her grasp twice before she got it out of the refrigerator and onto the end table located next to the fridge.

She managed to get the top off and chugged back a big gulp. The cold water burned as it ran down her dry throat. She plopped down on an old wooden chair with a red-and-white plaid cushion, then put the cap back on the bottle and rubbed the cold plastic across her forehead. Her heart pounded in her temples, causing her head to ache. She drew in a deep breath and slowly blew it out, trying to calm herself, but it wasn’t very effective.

Someone had gone through her garbage and taken the scarf. What the hell kind of person did that? Crazy. She answered her own question, and the answer didn’t do anything to calm her nerves. It only made things worse.

She sat the water on the table and pressed her hands to her temples, silently willing the pounding in her head to cease. The description of the man that the boy gave her fit David. But David was dead. She knew he was dead. The paramedics and the coroner knew he was dead.

But he was still attacking her, even from the grave.

Who was doing this? David had casual buddies, but no particular friends that she was aware of. No outraged person had contacted her after his death. In fact, no one had contacted her at all except the oil company he’d been working for, and all they wanted was to know where to send his final paycheck. Granted, the fact that she’d been the one to cause his demise probably prevented people from wanting to acknowledge his death at all, but surely if someone were angry enough to stalk her, they would have made themselves known before now.

She drew in a deep breath and huffed it out, feeling slightly dizzy. She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees, still clutching her head. She closed her eyes and silently willed the pounding headache to subside and her racing pulse to slow the hell down.

“Miss Frederick?”

Her head flew up and her eyes crossed as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She blinked several times and finally Jimmy came into focus.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“It’s just a headache,” she said.

“I’ve got some aspirin if you need it.”

The amount of concern in his expression made her wonder just how bad she currently looked. Probably pretty awful. She struggled to get up from the chair and into a standing position, hoping that if she appeared more collected she might actually become more collected.

“No thanks,” she said. “I’ve got some in my purse. I was just resting for a minute to see if it would go away.”

Jimmy nodded. “Sometimes I get those bad ones…migraines they call them. I have to sit in a dark room with my eyes closed for a couple hours before they’ll go away.”

“You should try breathing pure oxygen from one of your tanks the next time it happens,” she said, automatically slipping back into nurse mode.

“Really? I ain’t never heard that, but I’ll sure give it a try. Thanks.”

Emma forced a small smile. “Have you looked at my car?”

“Yes, ma’am. I got your battery problem all fixed up. Good thinking using the chewing gum. I ain’t seen that one in a while.”

“I can’t take credit for that. The security guard at the hospital knew that trick.”

“It’s an old one, but it works. Anyway, you’re all nice and tight now, and I didn’t see any other problems with the car. Being that it’s only two years old and a Nissan, there’s usually not a lot that’s going to go wrong.”

“Could the battery cable have come loose by itself?”

“They don’t really do that, ma’am. When was the last time you had it worked on that they would have disconnected the battery?”

“About a month ago at the dealership. Could it have been loose then and finally came off last night?”

Jimmy frowned. “The chances of it happening that way are low. I mean really low. If it had been a day or two ago that they worked on the car, I’d say sure. But a month is a long time. You would have had problems a while back if the dealership had left it loose.”

Emma tried to absorb everything Jimmy was saying, but her pounding head was making connecting the dots hard. “So it probably wasn’t a mistake by the dealership, and it couldn’t haven’t come loose on its own accord.” She stared at him. “Are you saying someone did it intentionally?”

Jimmy shifted a bit, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Given what you’ve told me about the last repair, that seems the most likely explanation.”

“He wanted me stranded in that parking lot.” Emma felt the blood drain from her face and she sank onto the chair again. “Oh my God.”

A million scenarios flashed through her mind, each one worse than the next. If Jeremy hadn’t been with her, would he have attacked her then? Or was he simply playing more games with her, like with the scarf?

“It’s none of my business,” Jimmy said, “but I have to say I don’t like the way this is headed. If someone’s bothering you, I think you should talk to the police.”

Suddenly, the walls of the tiny room felt as if they were closing in on her. She jumped up from the chair, desperate to get away from there. “What do I owe you?”

“No charge.”

“I have to pay you something for your time.”

Jimmy touched her arm. “You can pay me back by being careful and getting help.”

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Everything—David’s death, the break-in, the scarf, the car, and now the concern of a stranger, had her completely undone. “I will,” she said. “And thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You let me know if you need anything.” He handed her the keys. “It’s parked up front.”

Emma took the keys and rushed out of the building. She jumped into the car and pulled away, the tires screeching as she rounded the corner. She turned the air on full blast and directed it toward her face. The overwhelming desire to run coursed through her, but the one thing that eluded her was where to run to. The only answer she could come up with was “somewhere safe.”

But she didn’t know where that was.

###

Shaye was looking up information on David’s employer when a call came in from Emma. If she hadn’t seen her client’s name in the display, she wouldn’t have known who it was. Emma’s voice, which had been low and smooth, even when she’d been obviously upset, was high-pitched and frantic.

Shaye gripped her phone. “Slow down so that I can understand you.”

“He disconnected my battery,” Emma said, slowing her pitch and pacing enough for Shaye to understand. “If the security guard hadn’t walked me to my car last night, I would have been a sitting duck. But that’s not the worst of it. Today when I took the car to be repaired, some kid on a skateboard gave me a scarf that some other guy told him I’d dropped.”

Shaye frowned, certain that between the car battery and the scarf, she’d missed something important, but she had no idea what. Although she could understand Emma now as far as speech went, she was making no sense. “I don’t understand the scarf part.”

“I know. Sorry. I had to stop talking for a minute so that I could breathe.”

Shaye heard Emma intake and blow out several breaths, and her concern ticked up another notch. If Emma had been frightened before, she was terrified now.

“I didn’t drop the scarf,” Emma said. “It was one David gave me last Christmas. I threw it out with a bunch of other stuff last week. I didn’t want anything in the house that reminded me of him, so I started going through everything and put it all in a trash bag and threw it out. I know I did. And that scarf was in there. I’m certain it was in there.”

Shaye felt her back tighten. Emma was rambling, but Shaye couldn’t blame her. She didn’t understand all the particulars, but what she understood so far was that someone had gone through Emma’s trash and recovered the scarf, then had a kid deliver it to her. The things she’d feared most about this case were all coming to fruition. Someone was hell-bent on terrifying Emma, and even worse, he’d had no trouble finding her.

Which meant he was following her or had a tracking device on her car.

“I understand how scary this is,” Shaye said, “but I need you to do your best to stay calm, and I need to see your house. Can you do that? Can you meet me at your house?”

“Yes. No! He’s got to be following me, right? I took my car to a mechanic my aunt used. I’ve never been there before today. If I go to the house, he’ll follow me there. He’ll see you. And when he finds out you’re a private investigator, he might come after you, too. I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“Take a breath. I agree wholeheartedly that I don’t want him to find out what I do, but surely there’s some way of going there that he wouldn’t find suspicious. What about a Realtor? You said you were looking into selling.”

“I already have a Realtor. She lives in the neighborhood. If he’s been watching, he’s already seen her at my house measuring.”

“Okay,” Shaye said, trying to think of another reasonable cover. She glanced around her mostly empty apartment and smiled. “What about an interior decorator? You said the house was old. Doing some updates before you list it would improve value, right?”

“Yes. That’s what the Realtor said, but if he’s watching, how would he know you’re a decorator?”

“Don’t worry about that. I have an idea. What time is your shift?”

“I’m off today.”

“Great. Then can you meet me there in an hour?”

For several seconds, there was only silence, and Shaye wondered if Emma was going to flat out refuse.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Emma finally asked.

“Positive. And please don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Great.” Shaye jumped up from the couch and grabbed her purse. “Don’t go in the house until I get there.”

“I’m not about to. And Shaye?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for not quitting on me.”

“Never.”

Chapter Six

Shaye slipped the cell phone into her purse and hurried outside to her car. Corrine had recently redone several rooms in her house. The big books with fabric swatches and floor samples were in the coat closet. She hoped. With any luck, Corrine would be at work and unavailable to ask a million questions or launch into trying to convince Shaye to move back home.

Unfortunately, luck was not with her that day. Corrine’s car was parked in front of the house, which meant she’d probably run home for some paperwork or other items she’d taken home to work on and forgotten that morning. Shaye parked behind her and headed into the house and opened the coat closet. She was relieved to see the sample books still sitting on the shelf.

As she pulled the books down, Corrine came out of the hallway from the kitchen.

“Shaye,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

Shaye grinned at her adoptive mother. “Are you complaining about it?”

“Of course not.” Corrine walked over and gave her a hug. “I just figured you’d be busy unpacking or decorating. Well, maybe not decorating.” She looked down at the books in Shaye’s hands and one hand flew up to her chest. “Be still my heart. You are decorating.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m working a case.”

Corrine’s eyes widened. “A case? So soon?”

“The client showed up yesterday while I was moving in.”

“Please tell me it’s Nancy Drew and the Case of the Matching Drapes.”

Shaye laughed. Corrine’s worry sometimes made Shaye feel as if she was being smothered, but she knew Corrine’s heart was in the right place. And given the amount of horrible things Corrine saw and heard every day, Shaye gave her more leeway than she would have on the overprotective vibe.

“I’m afraid not,” Shaye said. “I need to meet with the client and neither of us want anyone who might see that meeting to know what I do. She has an old house, so…” Shaye held up the books.

“You’re pretending to be a decorator.” Corrine bit her lower lip. “I don’t know whether to be happy that you won’t be flashing your PI status around or worried that you and a client think you need to hide it.”

Shaye leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about either. It’s a meeting with a client in her house in broad daylight. Everything will be fine.”

“But you’ll call me when the meeting is over, right?”

“I’ll call. I have to dash.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Shaye hurried out to her car and tossed the books on the passenger’s seat. She waved at Corrine, who was standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face. Shaye shook her head as she pulled away. Most younger people were annoyed when their parents got into overprotective zone, but then technically, Corrine had never gotten out of it. Not where Shaye was concerned.

And Shaye would be the first to admit that sometimes it was a little frustrating, but she couldn’t get irritated with Corrine. The woman had quite literally saved her life. The best medical care, the best tutors, the best mental health care. Without all those things, Shaye had no doubt that she could not have become a productive adult. Corrine had taken her in as a teenager, one with no past, and given her the future she couldn’t have gotten from the state. The fact that Corrine was only twenty-nine when she took Shaye in made the woman even more impressive. She’d been only five years older than Shaye was now, and Shaye couldn’t imagine taking on the responsibility of caring for a perfectly healthy child, much less one with the issues she’d had.

Shaye’s past might be a forgotten trip through hell, but she’d won the lottery in Corrine.

She merged onto the highway and drove over the bridge to Algiers. The historic community was a mixed bag, depending on the street you drove down. Some homes looked as if they needed to be bulldozed. Other blocks held some beautifully renovated homes and others in the process of being improved.

Emma’s aunt’s house was one of the nicer homes on the block. Emma claimed her aunt had taken good care of it, and it showed. The siding on the outside was painted light gray and showed no signs of buckling or peeling. Turquoise shutters and trim provided an upbeat feel to the home, and huge rose azalea bushes made it homey. It was a shame that such a pretty place was the location of such horrible things.

Shaye parked at the curb and grabbed a small duffel bag from the backseat, then climbed out of the car. Duffel over her shoulder, she walked around to the passenger’s side to collect the sample books. As she closed the car door, Emma pulled up and parked behind her.

Shaye took a good look at Emma as she climbed out of her car and hurried toward Shaye. The circles under her eyes were darker than the day before, or maybe her skin was paler, if that were even possible. Her movements were twitchy and she glanced around as if she thought something was going to attack her any moment.

“Let me help you with those,” Emma said and took some of the sample books. She looked down at them and then back at Shaye. “Sample books,” she said, her voice low. “That’s perfect.”

“I told you to trust me.”

A tiny bit of panic left Emma’s eyes and she nodded. “Then let’s go inside and take a look at these samples,” she said in her regular voice and glanced over Shaye’s shoulders.

Shaye heard footsteps behind her and turned to see a tall, heavyset woman, probably in her thirties, walking with a cane. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her makeup was a little too dark for the middle of the day.

“Patty.” Shaye watched as Emma forced a smile and waved her hand between the two of them. “This is Patty. She lives in the neighborhood and is my Realtor. This is Carla. She’s one of the decorators I’m going to talk to about updating a few things in the house before I get it on the market.”

Patty stuck her left hand out to Shaye. “My right side doesn’t cooperate as well,” she said as Shaye shook her hand. “I’m glad you’re thinking about doing some updating. I wouldn’t put too much money into it, though. The house is going to bring a great price simply because of the condition it’s in, but a little updating to the kitchen and the master bathroom wouldn’t hurt.”

Emma nodded. “I’m going to talk to a couple of people, then if you have time, I’d like to get with you and see what you recommend.”

“Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready. Me and the house aren’t going anywhere. It was nice to meet you, Carla.”

“You, too,” Shaye said and followed Emma up the sidewalk and onto the front porch.

“MS,” Emma said. “It’s heartbreaking. She can’t be much older than I am, but she can’t walk without a cane. Yet every day she gets a mile in. Most able-bodied people don’t bother to walk at all, and she’s out struggling for every step.”

“That’s tough,” Shaye said as she watched Patty slow down to cross over a section of broken sidewalk.

Emma pushed the door open and they stepped inside. “Do you want something to drink?” Emma asked.

“That would be great.”

Emma waved Shaye toward the back of the house. “The kitchen is this way. I have no idea what I’ve got in the refrigerator, so we may have to settle for water.”

“That’s fine.” Shaye followed Emma down the hallway to the kitchen and took in the small room while Emma dug around in the fridge.

“Do you keep a set of spare keys for your car somewhere?” Shaye asked.

“Yes. In the drawer next to the sink. Why?”

Shaye pulled open the drawer and pushed the stuff inside around, looking for a car key. “Because he couldn’t open the hood of your car without one. There’s no key in the drawer.”

Emma whirled around. “He must have taken it when he broke in.”

“Probably so.”

The window over the sink was closed but the curtains were open, and Shaye could see the nosy neighbor as he stepped outside and peered toward Emma’s window. Shaye lifted her hand to wave at him and he hurried off to the other side of the lawn.

“That’s Mr. Abshire,” Emma said. “He doesn’t miss much.”

Shaye turned around and took the can of diet soda that Emma offered her. “Was he standing in his front window waiting for you to pull up?”

“Probably. If he wasn’t so old, and was remotely sneaky, I’d think he was the stalker.”

Shaye smiled at the thought of the man she’d just seen—who had to be eighty years old if he was a day—sneaking into Emma’s house. “He’d never make it up those narrow stairs. And if he did, going back down them would get him.”

Emma nodded. “True. Aunt Margaret moved to the bedroom off the kitchen the last couple years she was living. It’s tiny, but the stairs got to be too much for her. I was terrified that she’d fall and no one would be around to help her.”

“I suppose Mr. Abshire wasn’t as nosy when it was only your aunt here to spy on.”

Emma smiled. “Oh, Mr. Abshire would have totally hooked up with Aunt Margaret if she’d given him the time of day.”

Shaye was glad to see Emma smile. She’d been worried that being in the house would make Emma even more panicked than she was when she’d arrived, but she seemed to be relaxing some with their casual conversation. Unfortunately, Shaye needed to get down to business.

“Is it all right if I look around?” Shaye asked.

“Of course.”

Shaye opened her duffel bag and pulled out a small tool set that she tucked into her back jeans pocket, then grabbed her cell phone from her purse and left both bags on the kitchen table. “I’m ready for my grand tour.”

Emma guided Shaye through the downstairs rooms. Shaye took pictures as they went, not because she spotted anything of relevance but because you never knew when something might become relevant. Her goal was to keep Emma from returning to the house until the stalker was apprehended. The windows were all intact and showed no signs of tampering, just as Jackson Lamotte had said. Not that Shaye had doubted him, but she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t check herself.

They headed upstairs and into the master bedroom with its connected bath. Emma showed Shaye the bathroom window she’d left open and the tree branch outside that could have been used for her escape.

“Is the alarm box in the master bedroom closet?” Shaye asked.