by Ali Franklin
“Come with me.”
Mrs. Brown led Ryan to the apartment next door and opened the door with the key. The door squeaked, making the same sound Ryan assumed would come from a clowder of feral cats.
Mrs. Brown flicked on the lights as they walked from the living room into the kitchen. With a bit of arthritis-induced difficulty, she bent down and opened the cabinet doors beneath the sink.
“What do you see under here?” she asked.
“Rubber gloves and water filters. It’s pretty empty.”
The woman nodded and walked to the pantry. She pulled aside the accordion door and waved her hand at the shelves. “And here?”
Ryan looked. “Food, paper towels, spices. Stuff you would keep in your pantry.”
The woman closed the door then motioned for Ryan to follow her to the single bathroom. She opened the cabinet doors under the sink and pointed.
Ryan was beginning to understand. “Soap, deodorant, feminine items.”
The last place Mrs. Brown showed Ryan was the hall closet. In there, Ryan found towels, sheets, and a box on the top shelf labeled “Steve.”
Ryan looked at Mrs. Brown. “I don’t see any rat poison.”
“You also don’t see cleaning supplies or anything else you wouldn’t want a child to get into.” Mrs. Brown pointed back toward her apartment. “Danielle has two boxes of cleaning supplies, but she keeps them in a locked closet at my house.” She led Ryan out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.
They went back to Mrs. Brown’s apartment and sat back down at the kitchen table. The tea was cold, but they drank it anyway.
“When Joanna was about four years old,” said Mrs. Brown, “she figured out how to get into the cabinet with the cleaning supplies. Danielle had baby-proofed it, but that Joanna is smart. That little angel drank something she shouldn’t have and ended up in the hospital having her stomach pumped.”
The woman rose and set the kettle back on the burner to heat up. Then she walked to a locked cabinet on the wall. Removing a key from the pocket of her house dress, she unlocked the cabinet. The shelves were dominated by two plastic bins filled with cleaning supplies.
“So Danielle keeps any supplies that could be dangerous to Joanna at your apartment now?” asked Ryan.
“That’s right. Danielle has a key to my apartment and comes over any time she has to do her cleaning.”
“And she’s never talked with you about seeing rats in her apartment?”
“No, and she would have. We look out for each other.”
Ryan knew Mrs. Brown’s information was important. It might not make Jack and Gus reconsider Danielle’s status as a suspect, but it was a step in the right direction. She stood and thanked Mrs. Brown for the tea and the information.
“I think the detectives need to know what you just told me. If they come by to talk to you, please make sure you tell them.”
“Anything for Danielle and Joanna,” said Mrs. Brown.
Ryan left the apartment. As she neared the front door of the building, she saw the apartment office to her left. She wondered if she dared to ask about the rats.
The door was closed, but something above it caught her eye. It was a small white box. A red light blinked on and off at regular intervals.
They have a security system!
She looked above the front door and, sure enough, a camera was positioned to view anyone coming in or going out of the door. She walked to the far end of the hall, where another door led to the back parking lot. A camera sat above that door as well.
Ryan pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
“Jack, it’s Ryan. I’m at Danielle’s apartment building. Did you know they have surveillance cameras?”
“We know. In fact, we just went through the tapes. Danielle came in on Monday night and didn’t go back out again. The camera in the parking lot shows her car stayed in the same spot all night.”
“I also talked to her neighbor, who said Danielle would never keep poison in the apartment because of her little girl.”
Jack asked Ryan for the neighbor’s name and apartment number and promised to send someone to interview her. “I think this is good news for your friend. Gus is working on the paperwork now to release her. She’s not completely off the hook, and she’ll have to stay in town until we finish the investigation. But we don’t have enough to keep her.”
Ryan blew out a sigh. “Thanks, Jack. This is great.”
“Ryan, listen. I know you want to help your friend, but you need to stay out of this. Gus and I are investigating.”
“Come on, Jack. I just got you some good information.”
“I’m serious. You could get arrested for obstruction.”
“You would arrest me for asking a few questions?”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” He paused. “Just let us handle it.”
Ryan ended the call and got into her car. There was no reason to fight with Jack. He was right: the detectives were on the case and making progress. They’d cleared Danielle even without Ryan’s help. She smiled. Maybe this time she could stay out of it.
Chapter 12
Ryan’s phone rang late that afternoon, startling her from a half-slumber. She reached for her phone.
“Hey, Nicki.”
“What are you doing?”
“Um, falling asleep on the couch while I watch some show I don’t recognize on Netflix.”
“Let’s go play tennis,” said Nicki.
Ryan fell back against the cushions. “Ugh.”
“C’mon. You won’t go to kickboxing with me. Did you exercise today?”
Ryan didn’t answer.
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes,” said Nicki. “Wear decent shoes.”
Ryan sighed. Can I get out of this if I don’t have the right footwear?
It didn’t matter. Nicki showed up ten minutes later with enough gear for four people, including shoes. She okayed Ryan’s outfit of running shorts and a quick-dry t-shirt, but she insisted Ryan change from running shoes into a pair of tennis shoes supplied by Nicki.
Nicki, on the other hand, looked like a pro. She wore long black shorts with pockets and a white quick-dry shirt that said “Wimbledon.” The chief helped Ryan fill a few water bottles and they set out for Oliver Oaks.
On the way, Ryan told Nicki about the previous day’s revelation from Father Paul.
“I’m not telling you anything I shouldn’t,” said Ryan. “He’s going to tell his congregation tonight at mass. You should’ve seen him when he got it off his chest. He seemed so happy.”
“Imagine hiding a secret like that for twenty years. That must’ve been rough.”
“For his son, too,” said Ryan. “But the son has a dad. His mom married when he was young, so he’s grown up with a father figure.”
“Is Father Paul going to be in trouble with the church?”
Ryan shook her head. “He talked to another priest, who doesn’t think so. But Paul did lie about it all these years.”
Both women wondered what the penance would be for that sin of omission.
They reached the country club and parked near the tennis courts. With bags in tow, they walked into the pro shop. Nicki greeted the attendant by name.
“New partner tonight, Chief?” asked the teenager.
“This is Dean McCabe, from the college.” She turned to Ryan. “This is Henry Finn.”
Henry told the women which court he’d reserved for them when Nicki called that morning.
“You called this morning?” said Ryan. “Were you planning to play with someone else?”
“Naah. I figured I’d talk you into it.” Nicki ran toward the court. “Come on, slowpoke. We don’t have all night.”
Ryan reached the court and stalled, busying herself with her equipment. All she needed was a racket, so she was ready almost immediately. Nicki jogged to one side of the court and motioned for Ryan to face her across the net. Ryan took a few steps, then patted her pockets.
/> “Nick, I think I left my phone in the car. Hang on just a minute, okay?”
“No way. No more excuses. You’re going to learn how to hit a decent forehand today.”
“I will,” said Ryan, “but I need my phone in case there’s an emergency on campus.”
“If there’s an emergency, they’ll call me, too.” Nicki pointed toward her bag. “My phone’s right there, and the ringer is on. Which is poor tennis etiquette, if you’re wondering.”
Ryan couldn’t think of any more excuses. She walked to the “T” in the middle of the court.
“Okay, what do I do first?”
Across town, Emma Sullivan shut her front door. She watched as her visitor drove away. Then she walked to the kitchen and cleaned their coffee cups. She hated a dirty kitchen, whether it was in her restaurant or her home.
She washed and rewashed the cups while she replayed the conversation they’d just finished. With a start, she realized she’d been staring out the window in the direction the car had gone. She finished tidying up and walked back to the living room.
“It can’t be…” She sat in an easy chair and ran her palms along the armrests. “If I’m wrong, they’ll investigate and tell me I’m being paranoid. But if I’m right and I don’t tell anyone, someone else could get hurt.”
She felt better saying the words out loud, just like a friend would do if she had the nerve to tell anyone about her fears. Emma took a deep breath. “I’m going to tell someone.”
As she walked back to the kitchen to retrieve her phone, she added, “But not the police. Someone else who can help.” She scrolled through her contacts and settled on the one she thought most likely to be able to do something. She pushed the “call” button and listened to the voicemail message.
“This is Emma. Emma Sullivan. I just talked with—” She paused, not knowing how much to divulge. “I just talked with someone, and I think I might know what happened to Veronica.” She rubbed her eyes with one hand while she held the phone.
She lowered the phone for a moment as she sat at the kitchen table. Then she took a deep breath and continued, the words tumbling together in her haste. When she finished, she laid her head in her hands.
Forty-five minutes later, Ryan plopped down on the court.
“Uncle! I can’t do any more. My arms are going to fall off.”
Nicki stopped in mid-serve. “Are you sure? You’ve almost got the hang of keeping your eye on the ball while you hit it. You’ll be at Wimbledon in no time.”
Ryan pushed herself to her feet. “Yeah, in the stands.” She raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, that sounds like a good idea for a trip. Maybe we should plan that.”
“You think Teddy and Summer would go with us?”
“Absolutely. They have great theaters in London.”
Ryan’s stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts. “Want to go get dinner?”
Nicki looked at her watch. “Uh, no, I can’t. I have…plans.” She looked away.
“Plans?” Ryan cocked her head. “Are you working the night shift to give one of your guys the night off?”
Nicki was playing with one of her shoelaces. As far as Ryan could tell, it was tied perfectly. The chief stood and grabbed both tennis bags. She jogged toward the parking lot. Ryan stared after her for a moment, then jogged to catch up.
“Nicki, is it none of my business?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that…” She stopped and turned to face her friend. “I sort of have a date.”
Ryan took a half-step back. “A date?” After a heartbeat, she added, “That’s great. Who are you seeing?”
They reached the car. Nicki opened the back door and took her time stowing the bags inside. She walked around to the passenger side and held Ryan’s door open. Ryan followed, her eyes never leaving the chief. She got in the car and waited.
Nicki walked around the car and got in. Without meeting her friend’s eyes, Nicki said, “Her name is Becky and she’s a friend of Summer’s from the bank. I asked Teddy and Summer to fix me up because I think I’m ready to date.” She paused, then looked up.
Ryan was smiling. “Nicki, that’s great.”
“It’s great? You really think so?”
“Of course. Now take me home. You’ve got to get ready for a date.”
Nicki’s grin returned as she started the car. Ryan noticed her phone in the cup holder and opened it to check for messages. An icon was blinking.
“I have two messages from Emma. I told you there’d be an emergency with the committee.” Ryan pressed the speaker button and listened to the message.
“This is Emma. Emma Sullivan. I just talked with—I just talked with someone, and I think I might know what happened to Veronica. Please call me as soon as you get this, no matter what time it is. It’s important.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” said Nicki. “What’s the second message?”
“Ryan, please call me. I need to tell someone what I found out.”
Ryan pressed the “call back” button and got Emma’s voicemail. “Emma, it’s Ryan. I just got your message. Please call me back so I know you’re okay.”
She ended the call and looked at Nicki. “Would you mind if we dropped by her house? It’s on the way.”
Nicki turned the key. “Where does she live?”
“Copper Hill, next to the elementary school.”
The chief bore down on the gas pedal. “We’re only a few minutes away. Call Jack.”
Jack didn’t answer his phone. Ryan tried the station and was put through to Gus. After telling him he was on the speaker phone with her and Nicki, Ryan told him about Emma’s message and her fear that the restaurateur might be in danger.
“You may be right,” he said. “I’ll send a car out there right away.” They heard a muffled noise as he partially covered the mouthpiece and shouted an order. Then he came back on the line. “Ryan, go home and let us handle this.”
“But Gus, we’re almost there. We can at least check to see if she’s okay.”
His voice was brusque. “Statton, are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“Jack tells me you used to be with the LAPD.”
“That’s right.”
“Then you know that civilians shouldn’t get involved in a potentially dangerous situation.”
“We won’t get involved,” said Ryan. “We just want to make sure our friend—”
“—Understood, Detective,” said Nicki, laying a hand on Ryan’s leg to quiet her. “You’ve dispatched a unit already?”
“Affirmative,” he said.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Nicki ended the call.
Ryan threw up her hands in frustration. “How could you do that? We have to go see if Emma’s all right.”
Nicki didn’t say anything for a minute. Ryan sensed her friend’s dilemma. She knew Nicki wanted to follow the detective’s instructions, but she also knew Nicki didn’t think of herself as a civilian. Ryan held her breath.
Less than a minute later, Nicki turned on to Copper Hill Road. Ryan pointed toward Emma’s house. There were no cars in the driveway or on the street.
Nicki passed the house and parked around the corner. She reached across Ryan’s lap, unlocked the glove compartment, and pulled out a pistol. She stared at the house.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Ryan.
“It’s too dangerous. If Emma’s in danger, the person she’s afraid of could be in there. I shouldn’t go in without backup.”
“Nicki, you’re a cop.”
Nicki winced. “Not anymore. Not here.” She stared at the house, her fists clenching and unclenching.
A few minutes later, a Sheriff’s cruiser turned a corner and moved toward Emma’s house at a snail’s pace.
Ryan slapped the dashboard with her palm. “Seriously?” She turned to her friend. “Can’t you go help them?”
“Maybe I can. Stay here. I mean it.”
Nicki stepped out of the car and tucked the
gun into her waistband. She walked toward Emma’s house with her hands in full view. The cruiser parked in Emma’s driveway and two deputies got out. Nicki breathed a sigh of relief. She raised a hand in greeting.
“Hey, Winter.”
The deputy, on his guard, placed a hand on his holster as he turned. He relaxed when he saw Nicki.
“Statton.”
She walked up the driveway to shake hands with him. “Did Lipinski send you?”
“Yeah. You know about it?”
“Dean McCabe and I,” she gestured back toward her car, “are the ones who called Gus.”
Deputy Winter’s partner stepped around the car, his face hard. “Did you approach the house?”
“Negative. We waited for you.”
The second deputy puffed out his chest. “You’d better stay back,” he said officiously. “Let the pros do their job.”
“Cudmore,” said Winter, “this is Nicki Statton. She used to be LAPD and has seen more than either of us. She can help.” He turned to Nicki. “Do you have a weapon?”
“I do.” She placed a hand on her gun.
“Stay with Winter,” said Cudmore, “and don’t get in the way.”
Nicki nodded. “Understood.”
They rang the doorbell. They looked in the front windows. Winter pulled open the screen door and used the doorknocker while Cudmore went around back. Cudmore returned a minute later with a frown.
“Nothing. Maybe she’s not here.”
Nicki texted Ryan:
Call Emma’s phone
Moments later, Nicki and the two deputies heard a faint melody.
Nicki said, “Ryan just called Emma’s phone. That must mean Emma’s here.”
“Then why isn’t she answering the door?” asked Cudmore.
Nicki didn’t bother to answer. “Did you look in every single window?” she asked Cudmore.
“Just the ones that are low enough to see into. There are some along the side of the house, but they’re too high.”
Nicki led the way. “Come on.”
They reached the first window. Nicki turned to Winter, bent at the knees and waist, and held her hands toward the deputy. He mirrored her motion and grasped her hands, forming a step. “Hop up,” she told Cudmore.
