“As much as I’d like to confront Elijah,” Gideon said, “I need to have more evidence. I’d bet the farm that he’s got solid alibis for every murder. If I can’t slide a tight noose of evidence around his neck, he’ll slip free.”
“He won’t,” Bryce said. “Been my experience that the smartest guys make the dumbest mistakes. See you at the autopsy.”
I see the cops at Edith Scott’s house. They don’t see me because I am careful. Hide in plain sight is my motto. I knew it would not be long before Edith was found, but I was hoping it would take a day or two longer. Never underestimate the power of the nosy neighbor.
All my talk about not hurting people is true. I really did not hurt Edith. She went quick, and after getting a look at the pills in her bathroom, I did her a favor. Cancer is a shitty way to die. What I did was akin to ripping a Band-Aid off. Hurts for only a minute, and then it’s over. Lights out, pain gone. Yeah, the knife is better than cancer. I did her a favor.
As I watch the cops, I know that Gideon Bailey and Bryce McCabe could be a problem. They both have potential to screw it all up.
I do not plan on being here forever. I just need a few more days, and then I can wrap up the last of my loose ends and blow this Popsicle stand for good.
My phone chimes with a text, and it scares the hell out of me. Like the universe is looking over my shoulder and whispering to me, I see what you are doing.
But the text is not from the universe. It’s from someone I know. Maybe a new partner in crime. And it makes me smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Missoula, Montana
Tuesday, August 24
4:00 p.m.
Ann arrived at school to pick up the boys and on the way home took them out for pizza and ice cream. She had been eating out a lot lately, as if food would solve all Nate’s and her worries. Thankfully, he was a growing boy and, like his cousin, was a bottomless pit with two hollow legs. She was not so lucky, and if this kept up, she would have to invest heavily in sweatpants.
After they dropped Kyle off, they headed home, and when they arrived, they discovered Maura’s truck parked in the driveway.
“Is that the lady cleaning out the Beech Street house?” Nate asked.
“Yes.”
His knotted brow signaled he still was not comfortable with letting the Beech Street house go.
“Head on inside,” she said. “Get started on your homework.”
“Okay.”
Ann held the pizza box containing two leftover pieces and moved toward Maura’s truck.
Maura rolled down the window. “Just wanted to thank you for the work. I also wondered if you’d be a reference for me.”
“Of course. You did a good job of cleaning out the house.”
“Thanks—a word from you will go a long way in this community.”
“Would you like me to write a letter?” Ann asked.
“That would be great.”
“I’ll write it out now, and then you can take it with you.”
“Terrific.”
“Come inside. It should just take a minute.”
“Sure.” Maura followed her into the house.
Ann stepped around the boxes and hurried down to her office to get a yellow legal pad and a pen. As she came out, she found Maura surveying the unpacked containers.
“As you can see,” Ann said, “I’m still getting moved in. It’s taking a lot longer than I anticipated.”
“I can help you get this house set up,” Maura said. “Free of charge. As you have seen, I’m good at this kind of thing.”
“That’s not necessary. There’s no reason why I can’t find the time to get it done.” She jotted a quick note proclaiming Maura a wonderful contractor and signed it.
Maura held up a thick book on forensic psychology. “I can have you unpacked and set up in a day.”
The idea dangled like a carrot on a stick. But letting Maura into the Beech Street house versus the home Ann shared with Nate now was different. Ann folded her handwritten job reference and handed it to Maura. “No, but thank you.”
“I get it. It’s weird. This is your home. I know. But if you want to work side by side with me, we’ll be done in half the time. I’m a hurricane when it comes to cleaning.”
The idea of facing endless boxes and shelves to assemble felt like a weight on her shoulders. And the sooner she made this house a real home, the better it would be for Nate. “I’ll be here for four hours tomorrow. And I’ll pay you.”
“Just name the time.”
“Ten a.m.” That would give Ann a little time to meet the Realtor at the Beech Street house and maybe straighten up some of the piles here.
Maura grinned broadly. “You’ll be thanking yourself by the weekend.”
“Okay.” Ann raised the pizza box. “Are you hungry?”
“Kind of starving.”
“There’s a couple of slices left.”
“Oh God no. You don’t have to feed me.”
“Take it. Please. If Nate and I eat any more, we’ll pop. Take the pizza, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Maura accepted the pizza box. “Thank you, Ann. You won’t be sorry.”
Bryce received the phone records for Dana Riley and noted immediately that the last text she’d made was in mid-July, at least a week after her death.
He dialed the last number, landed in the voicemail of Jeff Reynolds. He left a detailed message that identified him and explained he had questions about Dana. Fifteen minutes later, Reynolds returned his call.
“Mr. Reynolds. Thank you for calling me back,” Bryce said.
“Yeah, sure. I’m not sure why Montana Highway Patrol is calling me about Dana. Is she all right?”
“What’s your relationship to Ms. Riley?” Bryce asked.
“We dated for three years.”
“When is the last time you saw her?”
“Five or six months ago.” He hesitated. “We broke up. She and I weren’t getting along, so I decided to end it.”
“Can I ask why you were having trouble?”
“It’s kind of personal.”
Bryce had hoped to converse a little longer before revealing his news, but he decided candor might shake loose information. He leaned forward at his desk, trying to imagine the other man’s expression. “Mr. Reynolds, I’m sorry to inform you, but Dana is dead.”
Reynolds went silent. In the background a door closed. “What? When?”
“Her body was found in July near Helena. We only just identified the remains.”
“Remains? Jesus. What happened to her?” His tone crashed to a hoarse whisper.
“Her body was burned, making visual identification impossible. We were able to identify her with DNA. She had a prison record from Maryland.”
“Yeah,” Reynolds said more to himself. “She was arrested when she was about nineteen for theft. She went through a rough patch in her life, but when she got out of prison, she sobered up.”
“Why did you break up?”
Reynolds cleared his throat. “We grew apart. I wanted to get married and start a family, and she wanted to go . . .”