“Christ, Olivia, what were you thinking?”
Her eyes were raw and filled with pain as she lifted her gaze to his. “I saw my father.”
“Where?” he asked as her gaze tracked mutely back to the opposite side of the road. He scanned the surrounding area, but he didn’t actually know what Charles Connell looked like. “Is he still here?”
She shook her head silently.
“Come on,” Theo pulled her in close, his eyes still darting around warily. “Let’s get you home.”
Olivia slid into the driver’s seat, watching mutely as Theo skirted around the car and slipped into the passenger seat.
“Do you want me to drive?” Theo asked as she turned to look at him blankly. “How hard can it be?” His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.
She laughed weakly as the worst of the shock began to fade, and scrubbed her hands over her face.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “No... I don’t know. It just took me by surprise. I guess I expected him to look different, but apart from the gray hair, he just looked like my dad.”
“Do you want me to call Jake?”
She shook her head. “We’ll call him later. Let’s just go home.”
Taking a deep breath, she started the car and reversed out carefully. Beau was burrowed into Theo’s lap and watched her quietly with big brown eyes, as if he sensed something was wrong. She didn’t even bother to check if she was still being tailed by the police, she just knew she was tired and emotionally wrung out, and all she wanted was to go home.
She turned into her drive with relief, but it was short-lived. As she pulled up to the front of the house, she could see something was wrong. Switching off the engine, she climbed out slowly, and a hot ball of misery filled her throat and tears filled her eyes.
Her porch was covered in shots of what could only be egg, and scrawled across her front door, in giant, grotesque red letters, was the word murderer.
22
Jake’s jaw clenched angrily as he took in the dripping red letters on Olivia’s door. Knocking loudly, he stepped back and surveyed the damage to the porch. Pieces of eggshells crunched under his boots, and smears of yolk and egg whites streaked the walls and windows. The door opened abruptly, and Theo appeared, his expression almost perfectly mirroring Jake’s.
“I suppose I should be grateful you’re actually dressed this time,” Jake said dryly.
“You’d better come in.”
He stood back, allowing Jake to pass. Hanging his jacket up in the hallway, Jake removed his boots and made his way into the library where he was met by a very enthusiastic ball of golden-colored fur.
“Hey, buddy.” Jake kneeled and stroked the puppy, his gaze scanning the room, and as it fell on Olivia, his expression was indecipherable. “He looks just like Truman.”
“Yes, he does.”
“I have something I need to show you.” Jake got up and took a seat next to her on the sofa. “Then we can talk about that mess on your porch.”
He opened the folder he held in his hands. “I traced the package that was sent to you containing Grady’s case files back to Salem. I checked some of the hotels, motels, and B&Bs and pulled this from the security footage.”
He handed her a photo of her father leaving the lobby with the pale-haired man.
“Where was this taken?”
“The Hawthorne,” he told her. “But they checked out yesterday evening. They could be anywhere by now.”
“They’re in Mercy,” she replied quietly.
“What?”
Theo entered the room. “You’d better tell him all of it.”
