“He’s going to live to regret this, isn’t he?”
“If he doesn’t already, he should.”
Sam collapsed into laughter with him.
“It’s so rare that he makes such a huge strategic mistake like this,” Scotty said. “We have to enjoy every second of it.”
“Oh, we will, my friend. Don’t you worry.”
“Can I still go to practice this afternoon?”
“You’ll be feeling much better by then.”
His big grin, directed at his mother and coconspirator, was the best thing ever.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Neveah left her hotel at eight thirty to drive to the address where the Spokane police would meet her before they went to the Carvers’ home. One of their detectives would be going in with her for the initial meeting while other officers provided backup outside.
Her stomach was in knots, but no one would know that. She was determined to be cool, competent and professional as she completed her mission. The meeting place was the parking lot of a hardware store. When she drove in, she spotted the officers in unmarked cars and pulled up next to one of them.
“Detective Charles?” a man with a buzz cut and hard blue eyes asked.
“That’s me.”
He studied her for a second, and she wondered if he was surprised that she was young or that she was Black. Could be either—or both. Not that she cared what he was thinking.
“I’m Detective Anthony. We spoke on the phone.”
“Right. Thank you for your help.”
“No problem. We’ll follow you. The Patrol cars will remain out of sight, as we discussed.”
“Great. See you there.” Neveah led the way to the Carvers’ well-kept raised ranch home in a neighborhood of similar houses. On the way in, she’d spotted swing sets, bikes and other indications of many young children nearby.
A red Dodge minivan was in the driveway at the Carvers’ home, along with a black Jeep Cherokee.
With the printed copy of the warrant for the phones tucked into her pocket, she met Anthony on the sidewalk and headed for the front door to ring the bell.
A woman with dark hair and eyes answered the door. Neveah recognized her as Trisha Carver’s sister Mercy from Trisha’s social media posts. “May I help you?”
Neveah showed her badge. “I’m Detective Neveah Charles from the DC Metropolitan Police Department, and this is Detective Anthony from the Spokane Police Department. We’d like to see Trisha Carver, please.”
Mercy’s gaze darted between Neveah and Anthony before landing back on her. “She’s not seeing anyone right now. I’m sure you can imagine that she’s not doing well at all.”
“I understand, and I’m sorry to intrude at such a difficult time, but I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. We’re investigating her husband’s homicide, and we need to speak to her.”
Mercy stared at her for a long moment before she finally blinked. “Come in.”
Neveah and Anthony entered the home. Shoes littered the entryway, and toys were scattered about. A baby was crying in another room.
“I’ll go get her,” Mercy said.
“Thank you.”
While they waited, Neveah walked toward the sliding glass door to look out at a backyard that contained a wooden swing set, more toys and two tricycles on a concrete patio. She turned back toward the living room as Trisha came into the room, carrying the baby, Mercy trailing behind her.
Trisha’s hair was a lighter shade of brown than her sister’s, and she had clear, cool blue eyes. Neveah noted immediately that, unlike most grieving people she encountered, the woman’s eyes weren’t red or swollen from crying. In fact, she looked remarkably well-rested, given that her husband had recently been murdered.
