Rebel entered the living room. “We found a trophy box hidden in Liliana’s closet.”
Brit’s worst nightmare had been confirmed.
My mother is a serial killer.
30
THE PAINTINGS
Joaquin
The second he stared into Brit’s eyes, Rebel knew something was off. Her tight smile didn’t surprise him.
Arresting her mom had to be rough.
“How you doin’?” he asked.
“Good.” Her confident tone caught his ear.
“How’d it go at the station?” he asked.
“She’s playing the blame game,” Brit replied. “Not fessing up to anything.”
“Why didn’t you stay?” he asked.
“I couldn’t take anymore of her BS. She asked for a lawyer, so I left. I doubt she’s talking to Honor. If she is, Nikki’s there.” A growl shot out of her. “It’s been nothing but drama ever since they came into my life.”
“We pulled a serial killer off the street,” he said. “You should feel relieved.”
She shook her head. “It’s not over ‘til she’s convicted.” Her gaze stayed locked on his for an extra beat, like she had something more to say. “Show me what you found.”
On the kitchen table sat a small wooden box, its contents carefully laid out.
A ruby ring, an Acorn class ring, a silver bracelet, a diamond necklace, and a chunk of long, strawberry blonde hair.
Pointing at the hair, she said, “That’s disgusting.”
“Better than a severed finger.”
“Ew.” She glanced around. “Where are the officers?”
“Two left with the gun and computers. Two are in the unfinished basement, going through boxes.”
“Where was the trophy box?”
“Dresser, primary bedroom,” he replied.
Her attention stayed glued to his for a few extra seconds before she glanced around. “I want to check out the place while Honor and Jordan are gone.”
“How ‘bout an extra set of eyes?”
“Absolutely,” she replied.
Starting in the foyer, Brit walked through every room on the first floor. She touched nothing, opened nothing, said nothing. She eyed the framed pieces of art covering the living room wall. It was an eclectic mix of styles ranging from landscapes to still life, mainly bowls of fruit. After studying them for a quick minute, she retreated to the basement where she found stacks of framed paintings leaning against the walls.
“They saved every receipt, every tax return,” said one of the officers.
“Doesn’t look like much, but we’re going through some of it before we haul it in,” said the other.
