Seconds to Live(66)

Gianna shrugged. “No, but he’s creepy, and he didn’t like anyone hanging around Dena. Maybe he was jealous of their friendship.”

That was creepy. Stella crossed her fingers that Brody could break Adam’s alibi. “If Dena’s husband killed her, I want to put him away.”

“And if you don’t, he’ll come after me.” Gianna set the bowl on the coffee table. “I make it a rule not to get involved in other people’s shit. It never works out for me. No offense or anything, but cops usually treat me like dirt.”

“No one will hassle you. I promise.”

“I’m tired after dialysis.”

“I’ll bring you right back here. It’ll take fifteen minutes, tops.”

“I don’t need any reminders of the life I left behind.” Gianna’s body slouched, defeated and depressed in a way Stella hadn’t seen in months.

“I know.” Guilt simmered in Stella’s belly. Had she set Gianna back? Would formally dragging Gianna into the case put her in danger? Stella believed the same person had killed Missy and Dena. If Adam was willing to kill Missy just for getting too close to his wife, Gianna testifying against him would definitely make her a target.

“I’ll do it for you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Stella gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll bring you something special for lunch.”

“You don’t have to do that. You already do too much for me. You saved my life. That doesn’t make you responsible for the rest of it.”

Stella rubbed her shoulder. “I like you, so you’ll have to deal with the attention.”

Gianna smiled, but her eyes were troubled. She refused to meet Stella’s gaze. No doubt being taken to the police station tomorrow would stir old memories she’d rather not relive.

“Lock the door behind me.” Stella stood.

“Yes, Mom.” Gianna mocked as she let Stella out.

Stella stood on the cement for a few minutes, the wind outside was hot and thick, but at least it was fresher than the stuffy air inside Gianna’s apartment.

What now?

It was nine o’clock on a Friday night. Stella hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She was so tired that her eyelids felt like sandpaper. As much as she wanted to work the case until it broke, she needed to eat and sleep. Silly as it was, it annoyed her that Horner was right.

But as she drove home, impulse turned her wheel. She called dispatch and asked for backup from patrol. A few minutes later, she was parked in front of Missy’s apartment.

She still had the key the landlady had given her. As soon as the patrol car pulled into the driveway, she let herself into the apartment, tugged on gloves, and began another, thorough search. Maybe there was something she’d missed the first time around.

She started in the living room, where the sparse furnishings afforded a quick search. She moved into the kitchen. Not bothering with the obvious places she’d already checked, she lifted drawers from their runners and checked the spaces between appliances and cabinets. She turned toward the bedroom and rolled her head on her shoulders. Most people hid highly personal items in their most intimate space.

In the closet, she slid hangers to check the wallboard behind Missy’s clothes. Then Stella knelt and ran her fingers around the edges of the carpet. The corner lifted. She pulled it back. A square had been cut into the floorboard. She pried it up with her fingertips to find a shoebox in the small hole. Inside the box, Stella found a fat envelope. Cash. Lots of cash. She thumbed through the bills. Mostly tens and twenties, the sum totaled at least two thousand dollars.

Where had Missy gotten that much cash?





Chapter Twenty-Three

What an arrogant prick.

He got up from his chair and paced in front of the television, where his recording of the press conference played.

So Police Chief Horner thought he’d solve these murders quickly, and they already had a person of interest that they were investigating.

How were the police possibly going to catch him when they were too incompetent to decipher his simple message? Rage seethed in his chest. Its warmth spread through him like rocket fuel.

Pivoting, he crossed the room again. His basement was empty, and he needed to fill it. He was anxious to get back to work.

But the police needed to be taught a lesson.

He turned and stared at the TV screen. On the steps of the police station, Chief Horner puffed out his chest and postured for the cameras. What a blowhard. With his perfect hair and whitened teeth, the Scarlet Falls police chief didn’t look like he’d ever gotten his hands dirty. Had he really walked a beat or driven a patrol shift? Didn’t seem likely.