Kate stood up, and Sloane followed her lead. The interview was over. Someone guilty was not going to offer up two different people who could confirm alibis. Ellis wasn't their killer. Kate had been so certain when they'd found the framework in Crawford's files, so sure that they'd identified the connection. But Ellis had moved on, rebuilt her life, found someone who supported her. She wasn't hunting down Crawford's success stories to kill them.
"Thank you for your time," Kate said. "If you think of anything else that might be relevant, please call us." She handed Ellis a card with her contact information—one of a small stackshe’d been keeping in her inner jacket pocket for nearly a decade.
Ellis took it with a shaky hand. "I hope you find whoever did this. This is… well, this all sounds awful.”
Kate and Sloane left the apartment and walked back down the exterior stairs to their car. The night air was cold, and Kate could see her breath in the glow of the parking lot lights. Behind them, apartment 2C's curtains were drawn, Ellis and Murphy's silhouettes visible as they moved around inside.
"She's not the killer," Sloane said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"No," Kate confirmed. "She's not." She nearly commented on the brash way she’d handle the line of questioning but decided to let it rest. She was already deflated enough by the fact that Ellis wasn’t their killer.
They got into the car, and Kate sat in the passenger seat trying to process what they'd just learned. She'd been so sure. The framework, the bankruptcy, the stolen concepts. It had all pointed to Ellis. But Ellis had been genuinely shocked by the murders, genuinely moved on from her time with Crawford. And she had an alibi that Kate knew would check out of they chose to follow up on it.
Which meant they were back to having no suspect and three dead women with a killer who was still just outside of their grasp.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sloane pulled the car out of the apartment complex parking lot, looking out of the corner of her eye and seeing Kate check her watch. The disappointment between them was thick enough to touch. They'd been so close... or so Sloane had thought. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever learn how to get used to these false leads turning to nothing. It was a far cry from the adrenaline of undercover work, that was for sure.
“Any next steps you want to look at?” she asked Kate.
“I’m honestly not sure. We could keep questioning Crawford at the field office, but I feel confident he’s just as clueless as I feel. If we didn’t find anything in his records and files, I really don’t think he’s going to be able to offer up anything.”
“So are you calling it a day?”
"Yeah, I think I should. I made a promise to put these long days behind me. And I’ve already missed dinner. But if you’re up for it, we can start fresh in the morning."
"What time?" Sloane asked.
"Seven? We can grab breakfast and figure out our next move."
Sloane nodded, realizing that Kate was recommending they meet an our earlier than today. The case had hooked her, that was much was clear. Sloane wanted to say something else, wanted to somehow articulate the frustration churning in her gut, but Kate looked exhausted. The older agent had dark circles under her eyes and moved with the careful stiffness of someone whose body was reminding her she wasn't twenty-five anymore.
"Seven works," Sloane said. "I'll text you where to meet."
"You did good work today, Sloane. I know that sounds a little cheesy, but it’s true. That detail about Hayes in the video? I would have missed that completely."
Sloane felt a flush of pride, but pushed it down immediately. "Just doing my job."
"Well, keep doing it." Kate got into the car and started the engine. "Try to get some rest tonight. We'll figure this out tomorrow."
They made their way back to the field office mostly in silence and when Kate got into her own car in the parking garage, they said their goodbyes. Sloane stood alone in the parking garage, not sure what to do. She could head inside and take another crack at Crawford or she, too, could go home. She knew DeMarco had another agent questioning Crawford but she wanted to be an active part of it if she could. She didn’t see the point in simply waiting around. Yes, Kate had responsibilities to her family, and promises to keep. But Sloane had nothing of the sort.
Three women were already dead. Three letter openers, three stolen business plans, three families destroyed. And Sloane and Kate still had no idea who was doing it or how to stop them.
Sloane pulled her coat tighter and started walking. Her own car was parked on the bottom floor. She opted not to take the elevator, choosing instead to walk in the chilly air and clear her head. The parking garage was quiet at this hour, as most of the office bodies would have pulled out by six or so at the latest and it was now nearing 7:30. A few cars passed on the main road on the other side of the garage walls, but the side streets were empty. Her footfalls echoed like a pleasant metronome as she considered the day and the many facets of this weird case.
Sloane had always liked walking at night. There was something peaceful about it, the way the world felt smaller and more manageable when most people were inside. During her year undercover, she'd walked constantly. It was the only time she'd felt like herself, moving through dark streets whileeveryone else slept, trying to remember who Erica Sloane actually was beneath the cover identity she wore during the day.
That year had changed her in ways she was still processing. Living among criminals, watching them operate, pretending to be someone who could exist in that world without flinching. She'd gotten good at hiding her reactions, at keeping her face neutral no matter what she was seeing or hearing. It was a skill that served her well in regular investigative work too, though sometimes she wondered if she'd forgotten how to actually feel things in real time instead of processing them later when she was alone.
Alternatively, working with Kate Wise was surreal in ways Sloane hadn't expected. She'd read about Kate's cases, studied her methods during training. Kate Wise was the kind of agent instructors held up as an example: brilliant instincts, methodical approach, an ability to see patterns that other people missed. Sloane had been nervous when she'd gotten the assignment to work with Kate on this case. Not scared-nervous, but the kind of anxious anticipation you felt before something important.
She felt like she’d hidden it well. A year of pretending to be someone else had taught her how to bury her emotions so deep that even she sometimes forgot they were there. But they were there. When Kate had complimented her for recognizing Hayes in the video, Sloane had felt genuine pride surge through her chest. She'd suppressed it immediately, kept her face neutral, accepted the praise with a simple acknowledgment. But inside, she'd glowed.
Kate Wise thought she'd done good work. That mattered more than Sloane wanted to admit.
Sloane turned the corner toward the lower floor, where her Kia was parked all the way at the other side. She passed a man in a button-down and khakis getting into his car while speaking on the phone. As she passed by him, her own phone buzzed in herpocket. Sloane pulled it out and saw a text from her sister asking if she wanted to come to dinner next weekend. Sloane's thumb hovered over the keyboard, trying to decide how to respond. Her sister meant well, but family dinners felt suffocating lately. Everyone was always asking questions about work, trying to understand what Sloane did all day, offering opinions about cases they'd seen on television. Plus, they lived in the country, a two-hour drive right into the heart of Nowhere.
