"You have sisters?"
"Two. I nearly lost them both several times recently.” Violently. Marin had nearly bled to death, and Meyra had been abducted and nearly killed by a monster. And Miranda had been too far away to help them. “I can understand how it hurts."
They spoke a few more moments. Then Miranda asked the questions she knew Pierce had asked so long ago. But sometimes time would open the memories that had been too traumatic to face before. "Before...that month. Did your family meet anyone new? Start a new activity?"
"I don't think so. I'm sure this is in the old reports."
Hailey was exhausted by it all, Miranda suspected. No one wanted to keep going over the most traumatic events of their lives—questioning the families was always the hardest part for her. It was Miranda’s goal to get Hailey to trust her enough to open up. Sometimes, the smallest detail could be buried. And it could make all the difference.
"Yes. But sometimes, some distance...we can remember things differently." Miranda made a quick decision. Some interviewees were more receptive to cognitive interviews than others. She was hoping Hailey would be one of them.
She walked Hailey through the calming steps to prep her for a cognitive. "I want you to go back to a week before your family was killed."
There was skepticism on the woman's face, but her eyes closed. "Okay."
"What was that week like? Let's start with Sunday. Aimee had made a note in her day planner that you were with them that weekend."
"Yes. Aimee did that. She was almost always writing something that happened down. She had a Blackberry, too. It went with her everywhere. My dad bought it for her. Said her day planner drove him nuts. It was her most valuable possession. She loved that thing."
Hailey pulled in a deep breath. But she was trembling, shaking. Miranda just waited. “Tell me about Aimee and your dad. Their relationship.”
Hailey smiled, unconsciously. "Aimee was really good for my dad. He laughed a lot when he was with her. She was always flirting with him, too. I saw what healthy relationships should look like when I was with them. My mom never dated much, but…Aimee and my dad were in love."
"Tell me, Hailey...what stands out? What felt wrong about that week? Did anything?" Miranda asked a few minutes later, after Hailey had relaxed. Miranda had been careful to not ask too restrictive questions. But to guide. Now, though, she needed to narrow it down. "Was Aimee preoccupied? Your dad upset? Was Terra having problems at school? What about Cruz?"
"No. Nothing like that. It was...just a normal week. Dad had said everything was going okay at work. I mean, there were problems. There were always problems; but he rarely talked about work at home. Dad had fired someone the week before. That always made him a little almost melancholy. Aimee hadn't been feeling well. She was having some problems with her ovaries, I think. Cysts or something. But they'd put her on new meds the week before. She'd gone to...a different doctor. I didn't remember that before."
"We'll check it out. Would she have made a note in her calendar or on her Blackberry?"
"Yes. Probably both. Aimee was like the poster child for OCD. She made notes about everything. If there was something really different about that week, Aimee would have written it down.”
It was a place to start.
Chapter 9
Miranda and Knight were still combing over every statement that Pierce had collected over the last decade. There were hundreds; that beautiful blond man was thorough. No denying that. They’d spent all day—and it was now dark out. They still had a long way to go. Dinner was on the itinerary. Miranda was starving. She’d had to make do with a bag of Fritos and red creme soda for lunch.
And like it or not, her dining companion was going to be her Knight in tarnished armor. She knocked on his door and waited impatiently. There was something niggling the back of her brain.
She needed to throw ideas at Knight until she got it out.
She knew how her own brain worked, after all. Profiler, profile yourself! and all that. Her biggest albatross was waiting on her now—right next door.
He answered the door, wearing nothing but a white tank undershirt and his trousers. Oh, those arms, so roped with muscle. So pretty—of course a woman wanted to touch.
It wasn’t fair that he had such a rotten attitude at times.
So unfair. “I’m hungry. Be a knight. Save me from starvation.”
“You’re completely ruled by your stomach at times, aren’t you?”
“Better believe it. I burn a lot of energy, being this awesome.”
“Questioning the premise on awesome. I was in the process of changing clothes. Want to help?” He didn’t have the sunglasses on. His eyes were boring through her. The man…those eyes held power. She shivered.
Knight was going to be a real problem one day. She just hoped it wasn’t today.
“You know, you keep pushing the envelope of what’s considered appropriate colleague behavior. Going to get in trouble someday. Well, when you come up against a woman we work with just made for you, anyway.” Miranda just smirked at him. The man was just too pretty and didn’t know it. And that undershirt—it fit him just right. Made a woman’s fingers itch to just touch. “I know…there is that new woman on Seth Lorcan’s team. She’s nice and quiet and dainty, and I bet she’d make you feel like a king instead of just a knight. And would probably do everything you told her to do. Want me to put in a good word for you?”
