She glanced at him. “Erin was murdered in that house, and I can’t even woman up enough to walk the scene.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “In my eyes, you’re pretty badass. But you’re still human. Give yourself a break. This case is not like any other you’ve ever worked. There’s no way to detach yourself from it. No way to see it objectively. That’s why we’re working together, remember?”
She swallowed, then nodded.
“Are you up to talking to the neighbors?”
“Yes.” She needed action. Only Justin’s block was long. “Let’s split up. There are twenty houses on this street. I’ll take that side.”
“OK.” Matt turned away and headed for the first house on the same side of the street as Justin’s.
Bree jogged across the road. No one answered her knock at the first two houses she tried. She approached a white house directly across from Justin’s house. She avoided a patch of ice on the front walk and rang the bell. Faded red paint peeled off the front door like sunburned skin. She heard footsteps behind the closed door, and a curtain shifted in the narrow window next to it.
A second later, the door opened. A young man stood in the opening, running a hand through his bedhead. “Can I help you?”
“Hi.” Bree wished she had a badge to flash. “I’m investigating the murder that happened across the street Tuesday night. Can I ask you a few questions?”
His head drew backward a few inches, and he moved as if preparing to close the door. “Are you a cop?”
Then again, maybe she was better off not having a badge. She shook her head. “This isn’t an official visit. The victim was my sister.”
He relaxed. “Oh, man. That sucks.”
“Were you home Tuesday evening?”
He nodded.
“My name is Bree.”
“I’m Porter Ryan.”
“Do you know Justin, Porter?” Bree pointed to Justin’s house.
One shoulder shrugged. “Not by name, but, you know, I wave if I see him.”
“Did you see any activity over there Tuesday evening?”
He shook his head. “I worked late. But I did notice something weird last night.” His brow creased. “I saw a flashlight in the house.”
“A flashlight?”
“Yeah. And it wasn’t just for a couple of minutes. The light was there for, like, a half hour.”
“What time did you see the light?” Bree wondered if the person with the flashlight was the same person she’d chased out of her sister’s house.
“Between six and seven?” He didn’t sound sure.
“Did you tell the sheriff’s department?”
“No. A deputy came to talk to me late Tuesday night. That was the night before this happened.”
“Would you be willing to give a statement about it?”
“Sure. Is it important?”
“Maybe.” Bree raised a hand in a Who knows? gesture. She asked for his number, and he gave it to her. “I appreciate you talking to me.”
“No problem. Sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks.” Bree turned away.
She wrote a note about what he’d said and continued down the street. She knocked on doors and interviewed more neighbors. No one else had anything interesting to add, though that didn’t stop people from talking. It was late afternoon when she caught up with Matt at the end of the street. While they walked back to Justin’s house, she told him about the flashlights Porter Ryan had seen.
“That is strange. If a deputy or CSI tech needed to go back into the house, they would have turned on the house lights. Only someone who didn’t want to be seen would have used a flashlight. Could be the same intruder that broke into Erin’s house.”
“Right,” Bree said. “How did you do?”
“Not as well as you. No one was home at a few houses. The woman next door thought she heard a car backfire somewhere around eight o’clock, give or take a half hour, something she said she already told the sheriff’s department.”
“What do we do now?” She stopped next to his SUV. “I’d like to know who was in the house and why.”
“Me too.” Matt stared at the house. “You up for a stakeout?”
“Yes.”
“It’s four o’clock. Porter said the lights didn’t appear until six or seven. Let’s grab food and come back.” Matt walked around the front of his vehicle and opened the door.
Bree slid into the passenger seat. They drove to a deli, used the restrooms, and bought coffee and sandwiches. It was dark when Matt parked down the street from Justin’s house. They ate while they watched the house.
He called his sister and asked her to feed Brody. Not wanting to need another bathroom break, Bree limited herself to a few sips of coffee. The quiet in the SUV felt comfortable as they watched and waited until lights flickered in Justin’s front window.
“Go time.” Matt set his coffee in the console cup holder.
She checked the time on her phone. “Six thirty.”
“That’s ballsy.” Matt leaned across the seat and opened his glove compartment. He took out a big black Maglite, then found a smaller version in the console. “People are still coming home from work. Someone experienced in B and Es would wait until the neighborhood quieted down.”
“Yes. My intruder waited until we were all asleep, but he knows no one is home here.”
Since Matt wasn’t armed, and a heavy metal flashlight was an excellent weapon, Bree took the small light.
They slid out of the SUV and jogged down the dark street.
“You have a key,” Bree said. “You take the front door. He probably went in the back and left it unlocked.” Bree angled toward the side yard.
“I don’t like splitting up.”
“I don’t like that you’re not armed.” Bree drew her weapon. “You want my backup piece?”
“No.”
She sighed. “We still need to cover both exits.”
Grumbling, Matt headed for the front door. Bree crept to the slider. Putting her shoulder to the house, she peered around the doorframe. She saw no flashlight beam cutting through the darkness inside. Was he in the bedroom? Or had he heard them?
She could see straight down the hall. The front door opened, and Matt’s big frame appeared. As he came toward her, Bree tried the slider and found it unlocked. She eased the door open and slipped inside. Neither of them used their flashlights.
Matt veered off toward the bedroom. Bree eyed the closed door of the walk-in kitchen pantry. She tiptoed to it and gently turned the knob. Empty. She moved toward the coat closet as Matt veered toward a closet in the den.
Bree reached for the doorknob. The door flew open. A hooded figure rushed from the closet and ran straight into her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bree landed flat on her back on the carpet. The impact sent the air whooshing from her lungs, and the person she’d collided with stumbled from the impact.
“Hey!” Matt lunged toward them.
The intruder regained his footing and leaped toward the sliding glass doors. As he jumped over Bree’s body, she kicked out, sweeping his feet out from under him. The intruder face-planted on the carpet. Bree was on his back before Matt could cross the room. By the time he reached her, seconds later, she had one knee in the intruder’s lower back and his arm chicken-winged behind him. His face was pressed into the carpet.
“Need help?” Matt asked over her shoulder.
“Nah.” Gritting her teeth, Bree leaned forward. “I’ve got him.”
He was not getting away.
Matt pulled out his phone and called the sheriff’s department. He shoved his phone back into his pocket thirty seconds later. “A deputy is on his way.”
“Ow. Ow. Stop,” the intruder cried as she shifted her weight. “That hurts.”
Ignoring his protests, Bree asked, “Are you armed?”
“No.”
She began patting the outsides of his pockets. “Is there anything in your pocket
s that could cut me? Knives, needles, razor . . .”
“No,” he said. “Wait. Keys. Do they count?” His voice was high-pitched, his words hurried.
Afraid.
Is this Erin’s killer?
Rage and grief blinded Bree for a few seconds. She closed her eyes, took one deep breath, and opened them again. Training and experience took over, and she resumed searching him for weapons and drugs. She turned the pockets of his jeans inside out. She dropped a set of keys to the floor and tossed a wallet to Matt. The man was lying on top of his jacket pockets. “I’m going to release your arm. You aren’t going to move.”
“OK. OK.” He froze as she slowly moved off his back.
“Roll over,” she ordered. “Spread your arms out at your sides.”
He did exactly as he was told. The hood dropped off his face. He was in his late twenties, yet acne still covered most of his skin. Thin, sparse facial hair dotted his jaw, looking more like dirt than a beard. The zipper of his jacket was open. Under it, he wore an oversized black T-shirt along with baggy jeans over a pudgy body.
Bree climbed to her feet. She rocked from her heels to her toes, unable to remain still with adrenaline rushing through her veins.
Matt opened the wallet. He plucked out the man’s driver’s license and compared the photo to his face. “His name is Trey White. He’s twenty-seven. He lives over on Pine Road. That’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Why did you break in here today, Trey?” Bree searched his jacket pockets. “And why did you break into my sister’s house last night?”
“What?” Trey asked.
A piece of fabric fell from his jacket pocket. A pair of black silk thong panties landed on the floor. Her stomach did a sick roll. Had the ME been wrong? Had Erin been raped? This guy could be a sexual deviant who’d returned to the scene of the crime to collect a trophy from his victim. She took a deep breath through her nose to quell the nausea. “Where did you get these?”
Trey’s eyes opened wide. “A d-drawer in the bedroom.”
“Are you a pervert, Trey?” Matt asked.
“I don’t have to talk to you!” Trey’s protest sounded weak.
“Maybe you saw her through the window and couldn’t resist,” Matt suggested. “It’s understandable. She was a beautiful woman. Beautiful women are never interested in you, are they? Does that make you angry? Angry enough to kill her?”
Trey licked his lips. “No. You don’t understand. I didn’t hurt anyone. I would never . . .”
Matt gestured toward the panties.
“It’s hard to explain.” Trey groaned.
Bree rocked back on her heels. She moved her wool coat aside to reveal the gun at her hip. She couldn’t whip out her badge, but she wasn’t above bluffing. “Try us.”
“Shit! Are you a cop?”
Trey didn’t need to know Bree was a few hundred miles outside her jurisdiction. Instead of answering, she said, “The sheriff’s department is on the way. This is their case.”
Trey covered his eyes with a hand, and he began to cry.
This was not working. He was shutting down. Bree had to change tactics. They didn’t need this guy to start screaming for a lawyer. If he was an experienced criminal, he would have already stopped cooperating. She wanted him to talk, and it didn’t matter how she accomplished that. If acting like his buddy did the trick, so be it.
“Look, Trey.” Bree shifted her tone from angry cop to big sister. “You’ve been here before.”
He nodded. “I couldn’t believe she was dead. I needed to sit in the last place she sat. To connect with her again.” His gaze landed on the thong, and embarrassment flushed his cheeks. “I just wanted something of hers.” Trey’s gaze shifted from Matt to Bree. When neither responded, he continued. “To remember her.”
“You knew her?” Matt asked.
Trey nodded with enthusiasm. “I work at the dollar store across from Halo.” His gaze shifted to the panties and his flush faded to a sickly green color, as if he’d only just realized the full scope of what he’d done. “Erin came into the store, like, once a week. I always knew when one of her kids had a project. She was nice to me, not like most people.”
Bree’s adrenaline abandoned her. She went cold down to her bones. “You broke into this house and stole a pair of a woman’s—a dead woman’s—underwear because she was nice to you?”
He blinked away from her gaze. “When you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad.”
“Is that what you were doing at her house last night?” Bree asked. “Trying to get a keepsake?”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I knew this place was empty, and it would be easy enough to pop the sliding door.”
Matt leaned closer. “Do you do that often?”
“No, no. Geez, no,” Trey stammered. “That’s how I used to sneak back into my dad’s house when I missed curfew when I was a kid. I’m not a criminal.”
“Breaking and entering, burglary, and disturbing a crime scene are all illegal,” Bree said.
The truth of that finally dawned in the guy’s eyes. “I’m fucked.”
“You are,” Bree agreed. But she wasn’t at all sure that he was the same man who’d broken into Erin’s house the previous night.
A car door closed outside. Matt went to the door and let a deputy in.
“This is Trey White,” Bree said. “He jumped out of a closet and tried to run away with these.” She pointed at the panties. “I’ll let him explain.”
Trey stuttered through an explanation as the deputy handcuffed him, collected his personal effects, and bagged the underwear as evidence. The deputy said to Bree and Matt, “Chief Deputy Harvey wants to see you both in his office.”
Bree nodded. “All right.”
After the deputy took Trey away, Bree left Matt to lock the house. She stood on the sidewalk. The air had a frigid snap that bit into her lungs with every inhale, but the scent of smoke in the night was comforting. Someone close by had lit a fire tonight. Someone was living a normal life.
Matt joined her a minute later. He scanned her up and down. “Are you banged up?”
“No.” A few bruises weren’t worth mentioning. But weariness slid over her. Had she ever been this tired?
“Then let’s go talk to Todd.” He opened the vehicle door for her. Matt slid behind the wheel and pulled a bottle of water from a recess in the vehicle door. After twisting off the cap, he handed it to her and started the engine.
She sipped water as he drove to the sheriff’s station. When they arrived, she was surprised to see the admin still behind the counter after business hours.
Marge escorted them to a conference room. “Todd will be here in a minute.” She assessed Bree with one glance. “You look like hell.” She turned to Matt. “Get her some tea with extra sugar from the break room.”
“Tea would be much appreciated, but I don’t use sugar,” Bree said.
“You do today.” Marge made a shooing gesture at Matt. “Get her some crackers from the vending machine too.”
After he’d left the room, Marge lowered her voice. “You look like death. Go splash some cold water on your face.”
Bree straightened her spine and walked to the restroom. Marge was right. Bree looked like a corpse. She followed Marge’s orders and looked mostly alive when she was done.
Back in the conference room, Matt motioned to a Styrofoam cup of tea and a vending machine pack of crackers on the table.
“Do you always do what Marge says?” Bree sat down and sipped the tea.
“Yes.” Shrugging, he drank from his own cup, which smelled like coffee. “She’s worked in this department longer than anyone else. She knows everything about everyone.”
“Good to know.” Bree finished the crackers and tea, and her stomach settled. By the time the chief deputy walked into the room, she was functional.
Todd sat across from her. He took their statements, then pulled his notepad over a closed file.
“Trey White is a tier-one sexual offender. He has a previous conviction for voyeurism and indecent exposure. He used to work at a department store. He drilled a hole in the wall, peeped in the ladies’ dressing room, and masturbated while he watched.”
“Trey is now a repeat offender.” Matt scowled.
Todd tapped a finger on his closed notepad.
“Does he have an alibi for the last few nights?” Bree asked.
“Trey lives alone in the garage apartment of a private residence,” Todd said. “No one sees him coming or going. But he says he was at work Tuesday night until nine. I sent a deputy to the dollar store to get a copy of their surveillance tapes. He just called. The store’s security cameras aren’t working, but the manager says Trey was scheduled to close Tuesday evening, and his time card was stamped in at three in the afternoon and out at nine thirty.”
“Let me guess,” Bree said. “He worked alone.”
“Yes.” Todd nodded. “And the last transaction on the register was rung up at six forty-four. Trey says he was stocking shelves. The store is never busy at night, so the lack of business wasn’t unusual. The alarm was activated at nine eleven. My deputy is requesting tapes from the surrounding businesses. If he’s telling the truth, he should show up on someone’s surveillance feed going in or out of the store.”
“Lacking an alibi isn’t enough to make him the killer.” Frustration burned in Bree’s throat.
“It isn’t,” Todd agreed. “We’ll also compare his DNA and fingerprints to samples pulled from the crime scene, and we’re getting a search warrant for his apartment.”
Something didn’t feel right to Bree about Trey being Erin’s killer. A work alibi was too easy to verify. If he hadn’t been at work, he would have made up something harder to prove or disprove. “What will you do with him if his alibi checks out, Chief Deputy?” she asked.
“Call me Todd, and for now, he’ll be charged with breaking and entering and burglary.” The chief deputy leaned his elbows on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He broke into a house and stole something very personal. His crime is disturbing, but he has no history of violence.”
CROSS HER HEART Page 12
