Page 63 of Sinister Secrets

CHAPTER 36

Sometimes you have to make your own opportunities. Other times you have to take them by force, which is exactly what I plan to do now as I pound on the door in front of me shortly before nine in the morning.

My plan to go to sleep early backfired. After lying awake, watching the shadows shift on the walls for what felt like days, I finally admitted defeat and crawled out of bed, determined to find a new angle to approach this case from or go crazy trying, which was, and still is, a very distinct possibility given my behavior over the last twelve hours.

I’d paced the house like a caged tiger, bouncing off the boxes that still needed to be unpacked, thinking of all the things I didn’t have—a team to work with, access to the new information that was being discovered, evidence that pointed to anyone other than myself. A suspect. Eventually that grew old and I decided to focus on what I did have—my instincts.

And my gut feeling is that this is more personal than vengeance on the part of the cabal whose plan I foiled.

Gordon was drugged. Shot. Frozen and disposed of on my property.

It’s not just an intimidation tactic. People as powerful as the ones behind the real estate scheme wouldn’t toy with me. I’d be gone, end of story. They have nothing to gain by punishing me like this. So who does?

I realized that was the million-dollar question, because someone’s gone to a lot of effort in order to send me a very powerful message.

If it smells like a grudge and it acts like a grudge, then that’s what it probably is. That determination might have helped narrow down the suspect pool if I hadn’t pissed off so many people in the past. What can I say? It’s a talent.

But, given the details of the case, it seems safe to assume that this is someone I crossed paths with since my return to Gator Glade, which means I can focus on a slightly smaller segment of the population. And who was the first person I knowingly upset after my return? Given that she tried to kill me, I have to give that honor to Alicia DeWitt.

Which led to me thinking about what Gordon’s mom said about Alicia being her son’s girlfriend. Obviously they’d been working together, but what if they weren’t the only two low-level grunts scheming to bring about the destruction of Gator Glade? What if there’d been a third partner? One who’s still local.

Since my access is now limited to information that’s already in my possession, I had to take stock, and that’s when it hit me—I had a copy of the file from the investigation the state police conducted on Alicia. Which is what brought me here now, my fist feeling slightly bruised by the time the door opens, revealing a grouchy-looking woman with serious bags under her eyes and hair that might be hiding more than one nest of rodents.

“What?” she snarls, glaring at me like she was allowed one cookie for the rest of her life and I just ate it.

I glance down at the T-shirt she’s wearing with the directive SHUT UP across the front, but decide, as usual, not to follow orders. “Nancy Dunn?”

“Who wants to know?”

I flash my badge and a smile. “Special Agent Cassidy Knox.”

Her face goes through a range of emotions. Confusion at having an FBI agent knock on her door so early in the morning. Fear at what it might mean. Then, as she recognizes my name, anger.

“You.” She jabs a finger at me.

“Also known as Agent Knox, but we’ve been over that already.”

“What do you want?”

“To ask you a few questions. May I come inside?”

She glances over her shoulder like she’s checking on the answer with someone behind her. I stretch to the side, hoping to get a look at them, but the room appears empty.

“No,” she decides.

“Is there a reason?”

“Yeah. Because I don’t want you in my house.”

“Fair enough. How long had you known Alicia before her death?”

“You mean before you killed her?”

“Yes.”

“Three years.”

“You two must have been close.”