I jerked to a stop in front of the television. “Well, hello to you, too.”
A long, fifteen hours later, on Tuesday morning, I paced back and forth in the living room while Reed finished up in the bathroom. We’d spent the evening reviewing the case file and putting together a general overview of what we’d learned about the case so far. Which wasn’t much. I’d only had one interview, but apparently Delaney wanted me to “put boots on the ground” after I’d canvassed the area. Whatever all that meant. I needed to Google investigation procedures, but didn’t have time.
Reed stepped out of his bathroom wearing tight-fitted running pants and a sleeveless shirt. He stuck one earbud in his left ear and held the other one. “You’ll be okay while I go for a quick run?”
“Of course. I’m not a damsel in distress or anything.” What did he expect me to do?
He hesitated by the front door. “You could always come with me.”
“Oh, wow. Well…” I raised a hand and took a step backward, away from him. “I would, but… I don’t have the right shoes… or pants.” Or desire to have him watch me pass out on the sidewalk from breathing.
He laughed and left me to my own devices, promising to return in about an hour. Quiet seeped into the corners of the rental the moment he shut the door. None of the days on this trip were packed with interviews or other investigative things because Delaney wanted those boots to follow the trail. The problem was that I didn’t pack boots, and we hadn’t seen a trail yet.
Except.
If I got that interview with Casey, I’d have more information to give Delaney. We’d ended our evening with a brilliant theory on a ghost killing Lisa Boyd, but I didn’t think Delaney or her boss would buy it. I needed something more. Delaney said the Halloween special needed creepy characters and a deep twist.
I just had to find them.
The idea deepened in my thoughts. It made sense and was basically a trail we’d started down yesterday. We only needed to keep trekking down it. Yes, this had to work.
The cabinet above the sink was six inches too high for me to reach, so I finagled my way to the counter and then hovered on my knees to open it. Right at the edge—thankfully—sat the water filter Reed hid yesterday.
I grabbed it, clutched it to my chest, and jumped down from the counter. Now I had a reason to get back on the trail.
Part of our research the evening before was laying out the building and each additional unit. Selene and Casey didn’t actually share a bedroom wall with Lisa when she’d lived here but, instead, a kitchen. I crept out the backdoor, doing my best to not appear suspicious, and took the short stone path—see, a path—to the tiny porch next door.
The door matched ours, but this one had a short curtain covering the opening, so I couldn’t see inside until the latch flipped and the door opened.
A man at least three inches shorter than me smiled with a quizzical expression. He had dark brown hair that hung in a shaggy cut reaching right above his ears. “Can I help you?”
“Right!” I said a little too loudly, remembering why I was there in the first place. “I’m staying in the Airbnb. Yesterday, Selene brought us a new water filter and well…” I held up the old one in front of me. “I found this one.”
Casey studied the white cylinder in my hand before reaching for it. “Where did you find it?”
I pulled my hand away, unwilling to give him my water filter. Then I’d have no reason to keep talking. Damn it. Why didn’t I think the entire story through? “The dishwasher.”
“Well, thank you for returning it… I guess.” He grabbed the filter from me and, in a panic, I stepped forward until we were almost chest to chest. Casey moved away, giving me an entrance into his apartment.
If I stepped inside, I’d be completely busting my way into his space. If I didn’t, I’d lose the only path I had for this case. I couldn’t let Delaney down. But what if he murdered his mother?
I stepped inside, wearing my best non-life-threatening smile full of teeth and happiness. “I just love what you’ve done with these places.”
Fingers crossed I hadn’t just put myself alone with a killer.
6
“Your kitchen looks just like ours,” I said as I stepped into an identical space as the one I left. They had the same setup, just in reverse. I slipped my hand in the pocket of my spring jacket and hit the record button on the small device I’d hidden.
Casey held the kitchen filter up to the overhead light as he inspected it. Small droplets of water landed on his navy T-shirt. “Yes, they hired a designer when they split the original home into four units. We’ve only made cosmetic changes after my mother purchased it in the early aughts.”
I inched to the left, checking out the opening and living room on the other side. Yes, set up just like our unit a few feet away. Sadly, he didn’t have his murder confession written on the wall. That might make things too easy.
Did I really think Casey killed his mother? I stared at him as he tossed the filter in the trash, using his foot to open the top. Did murderers own rental homes? Did I just stick myself in a kitchen with a murderer? I wouldn’t do something that stupid. Would I?
Damn it.
Maybe.
