A prominent NYPSD captain and his wife return early from vacation to confront their worst nightmare. Their teenage daughter Deena, who stayed at home, has been viciously assaulted and murdered in her own bedroom. The gruesome crime scene is more horrific than can be imagined. Immediately, the captain demands that Lieutenant Eve Dallas handle the investigation. Her success rate is only part of the reason; there's no one else who stands so firmly or cares so deeply for finding justice for the dead.
As Eve assembles her outstanding team and a myriad of evidence is gathered, the perpetrator continues to lay the groundwork for more evil deeds. Each new clue adds another layer of difficulty that at times proves daunting. Eve knows how to dig below the layers, and what she and her team discover has them chasing after a mastermind of disguise who uses many identities. But has the killer become too confident in his pursuit of exacting revenge and will he make a careless mistake? Just one wrong move is all Eve needs to take him down.
What can I say that hasn't already been said after 29 stories? KINDRED IN DEATH is another excellent addition to this romantic suspense series set in the future of 2060, and I can't wait for the next murder adventure with this unique and three-dimensional cast of characters.
When the newly promoted captain of the NYPSD and his wife
return a day early from their vacation, they were looking
forward to spending time with their bright and vivacious
sixteen-year-old daughter who had stayed behind.
Not even their worst nightmares could have prepared them for
the crime scene that awaited them instead. Brutally murdered
in her bedroom, Deena's body showed signs of trauma that
horrified even the toughest of cops; including our own
Lieutenant Eve Dallas, who was specifically requested by the
captain to investigate.
When the evidence starts to pile up, Dallas and her team
think they are about to arrest their perpetrator; little do
they know yet that someone has gone to great lengths to
tease and taunt them by using a variety of identities.
Overconfidence can lead to careless mistakes. But for
Dallas, one mistake might be all she needs to bring justice.
EXCERPT
Sheโd died and gone to heaven. or better, because who knew
if there was really good sex and lazy holiday mornings in
heaven. She was alive and kicking.
Well, alive anyway. A little sleepy, a whole lot satisfied,
and happy the end of the Urban Wars nearly forty years
before had resulted in the international Peace Day holiday.
Maybe the Sunday in June had been selected arbitrarily, and
certainly symbolicallyโand maybe remnants of that ugly
period still littered the global landscape even in 2060โbut
she supposed people were entitled to their parades,
cookouts, windy speeches, and long, drunk weekends.
Personally, she was happy to have two days off in a row for
any reason. Especially when a Sunday kicked off like this
one.
Eve Dallas, murder cop and ass-kicker, sprawled naked across
her husband, whoโd just given her a nice glimpse of heaven.
She figured sheโd given him a good look at it, too, as he
lay under her, one hand lazily stroking her butt and his
heart pounding like a turbo hammer.
She felt the thump on the bed that was their pudgy cat,
Galahad, joining them now that the show was over.
She thought: Our happy little family on a do-nothing Sunday
morning. And wasnโt that an amazing thing? She had a happy
little familyโa home, an absurdly gorgeous and fascinating
man who loved her, andโit couldnโt be overstatedโreally good
sex.
Not to mention the day off.
She purred, nearly as enthusiastically as the cat, and
nuzzled into the curve of Roarkeโs neck.
โGood,โ she said.
โAt the very least.โ His arms came around her, such good
arms, in an easy embrace. โAnd what would you like to do
next?โ
She smiled, loving the moment, the lilt of Ireland in his
voice, the brush of the catโs fur against her arm as he
butted it with his head in a bid for attention.
Or most likely breakfast.
โPretty much nothing.โ
โNothing can be arranged.โ
She felt Roarke shift, and heard the catโs purring increase
as the hands that had recently pleasured her gave him a
scratch.
She propped herself up to look at his face. His eyes opened.
God, they just killed her, that bold, brilliant blue,
those thick, dark lashes, the smile in them that was hers.
Just hers.
Leaning down, she took his magic mouth with hers in a deep,
dreamy kiss.
โWell now, thatโs far from nothing.โ
โI love you.โ She kissed his cheeks, a little rough from the
nightโs growth of beard. โMaybe because youโre so pretty.โ
He was, she thought as the cat interrupted by wiggling his
bulk under her arm and bellying between them. The carved
lips, the sorcererโs eyes, and sharp, defined bones all
framed in the black silk of his hair. When you added the
firm, lanky body, it made a damn perfect package.
He managed to get around the cat to draw her down for
another kiss,
then hissed.
โWhy the hell doesnโt he go down and pester Summerset for
breakfast?โ Roarke nudged away the cat, who kneaded paws and
claws, painfully, over his chest.
โIโll get it. I want coffee anyway.โ
Eve rolled out of bed, walkedโlong, lean, nakedโto the
bedroom AutoChef.
โYou cost me another shag,โ Roarke muttered.
Galahadโs bicolored eyes glittered, perhaps in amusement,
before he scrambled off the bed.
Eve programmed the kibble, and since it was a holiday, a
side of tuna. When the cat pounced on it like the starving,
she programmed two mugs of coffee, strong and black.
โI thought about going down for a workout, but sort of took
care of that already.โ She took the first life-giving sip as
she crossed back to the platform and the lake-sized bed.
โIโm going to grab a shower.โ
โIโll do the same, then I can grab you.โ He smiled as she
handed him his coffee. โA second workout, weโll say. Very
healthy. Maybe a full Irish to follow.โ
โYouโre a full Irish.โ
โI was thinking breakfast, but you can have both.โ
Didnโt she look happy, he thought, and restedโand altogether
delicious. That shaggy cap of deer-hide hair mussed about
her face, those big dark eyes full of fun. The little dent
in her chin he adored deepened just a bit when she smiled.
There was something about the moment, he thought, moments
like this when they were so much in tune, that struck him as
miraculous.
The cop and the criminalโformerโhe qualified, as bloody
normal as Peace Day potato salad.
He studied her over the rim of his cup, through the whiff of
fragrant steam. โIโm thinking you should wear that outfit
more often. Itโs a favorite of mine.โ
She angled her head, drank more coffee. โIโm thinking I want
a really long shower.โ
โIsnโt that handy? I think I want the same.โ
She took a last sip. โThen weโd better get started.โ
Later, too lazy to dress, she tossed on a robe while Roarke
programmed more coffee and full Irish breakfasts for two. It
was all so . . . homey, she thought. The morning sun
streamed in the windows of the bedroom bigger than the
apartment sheโd lived in two years before. Two years married
next month, she thought. Heโd walked into her life, and
everything had changed. Heโd found her; sheโd found himโand
all those dark places inside both of them had gotten a
little smaller, a little brighter.
โWhat do you want to do next?โ she asked him.
He glanced over as he loaded plates and coffee onto a tray
to carry it to the sitting area. โI thought the agenda was
nothing.โ
โIt can be nothing, or it can be something. I picked
yesterday, and that was lots of nothing. Thereโs probably
something in the marriage rules about you getting to pick
today.โ
โAh yes, the rules.โ He set the tray down. โAlways a cop.โ
Galahad padded over to eye the plates as if he hadnโt eaten
in days.
Roarke pointed a warning finger at him, so the cat turned
his head in disgust and began to wash.
โMy pick then, is it?โ He cut into his eggs, considering.
โWell, letโs think. Itโs a lovely day in June.โ
โShit.โ
His brow lifted. โYouโve a problem with June, or lovely
days?โ
โNo. Shit. June. Charles and Louise.โ Scowling, she chewed
bacon. โWedding. Here.โ
โYes, next Saturday evening, and as far as I know thatโs all
under control.โ
โPeabody said because Iโm standing up for Louiseโthe matron
of honor or whateverโIโm supposed to contact Louise every
day this week to make sure she doesnโt need me to do
something.โ Eveโs scowl darkened as she thought of Peabody,
her partner. โThat canโt be right, can it? Every day? I
mean, Jesus. Plus, what the hell could she need me to do?โ
โErrands?โ
She stopped eating, narrowed her eyes at him. โErrands? What
do you mean by errands?โ
โWell now, Iโm at a disadvantage having never been a bride,
but best guess? Confirm details with the florist or caterer,
for instance. Go shopping with her for wedding shoes or
honeymoon clothes orโโ
โWhy would you do that?โ Her voice was as thoroughly
aggrieved as her face. โWhy would you say these things to
me, after I rocked your world twice in one morning? Itโs
just mean.โ
โAnd likely true under other circumstances. But knowing
Louise, she has it all well in hand. And knowing you, if
Louise wanted someone to shop for shoes, sheโd have asked
someone else to stand up for her at her wedding.โ
โI gave the shower.โ At his barely smothered laugh, she
drilled a finger into his arm. โIt was here, and I was here,
so thatโs like giving it. And Iโm getting a dress and all
that.โ
He smiled, amused by her puzzlementโand mild fearโwhen it
came to social rites. โWhat does it look like, this dress?โ
She stabbed into her eggs. โI donโt have to know what it
looks like, exactly. Itโs some sort of yellowโshe picked out
the color, and she and Leonardo put their heads together on
it. The doctor and the designer. Mavis says itโs mag
squared.โ
She considered her friend Mavis Freestoneโs particular
style. โWhich is kind of scary now that I think about it.
Why am I thinking about it?โ
โI have no idea. I can say that while Mavisโs taste in
fashion is uniquely . . . unique, as your closest friend she
understands perfectly what you like. And Leonardo knows
exactly what suits you. You looked exquisite on our wedding
day.โ
โI had a black eye under the paint.โ
โExquisite, and absolutely you. As for etiquette by Peabody,
Iโd say contacting Louise wouldnโt hurt, just letting her
know youโre willing to help out should she need it.โ
โWhat if she does need it? She shouldโve asked Peabody to do
this instead of having her second in command, or in line.
Whatever the thing is.โ
โI think itโs called bridal attendant.โ
โWhatever.โ With an impatient hand, Eve waved the term away.
โTheyโre tight, and Peabody really gets into this . . .
female thing.โ
The insanity of it, as far as Eve was concerned. The fuss,
the frills, the frenzy.
โMaybe itโs weird because Peabody used to date Charles, sort
of, before she hooked up with McNab. And after, too.โ Her
brow furrowed as she worked through the tangles of the
dynamics. โBut they never banged each other, personally or
professionally.โ
โWho Charles and McNab?โ
โStop it.โ It got a quick laugh out of her before she
thought about errands
and shopping. โPeabody and Charles never got naked when
Charles was a pro. Which is also weird that he was a
licensed companion when he and Louise hooked up, and the
whole time theyโre datingโand getting nakedโit
doesnโt bother her that heโs getting naked with other
people, professionally. Then he quits without telling her
and trains to be a therapist and buys a house and does the
proposing deal.โ
Understanding, Roarke let her run it through, fast words and
jerky logic as she shoveled in eggs, potatoes, bacon. โAll
right, whatโs all this about really?โ
She stabbed eggs again, then put the fork down and picked up
her coffee. โI donโt want to screw it up for her. Sheโs so
happy, theyโre so happyโand this is a really big deal for
her. I get that. I really do get that, and I did such a crap
job on ours. The wedding thing.โ
โIโll be the judge of that.โ
โI did. I dumped everything on you.โ
โI believe you had a couple of murders on your hands.โ
โYeah, I did. And of course you donโt have anything to do
but sit on your giant piles of money.โ
He shook his head and spread a bit of jam on a triangle of
toast. โWe all do what we do, darling Eve. And I happen to
think we do what we do very well.โ
โI wigged out on you, pissed you off, the night before the
wedding.โ
โAdded a bit of excitement.โ
โThen got drugged and kicked around at my own drunk girl
party at a strip club before I made the collar, which was
fun in retrospect. But the point is, I really didnโt do the
stuff, so I donโt know how to do the stuff now.โ
He gave her knee a friendly pat. For a woman of her
sometimes terrifying
courage, she feared the oddest things. โIf thereโs something
she needs youโll figure out how to do it. Iโll tell you,
when you walked toward me that day, our day, in the
sunlight, you were like a flame. Bright and beautiful, and
took the breath right out of me. There was only you.โ
โAnd about five hundred of your close friends.โ
โOnly you.โ He took her hand, kissed it. โAnd itโll be the
same for them, I wager.โ
โI just want her to have what she wants. It makes me
nervous.โ
โAnd thatโs friendship. Youโll wear some sort of yellow
dress and be there for her. That will be enough.โ
โI hope so, because Iโm not tagging her every day. Thatโs
firm.โ She looked at her plate. โHow does anyone eat a full
Irish?โ
โSlowly and with great determination. I take it youโre not
determined
enough.โ
โNot nearly.โ
โWell then, if that takes care of breakfast, Iโve had my
thought.โ
โOn what?โ
โOn what to do next. We should go to the beach, get
ourselves some sand and surf.โ
โI can get behind that. Jersey Shore, Hamptons?โ
โI was thinking more tropical.โ
โYou canโt want to go all the way to the island for one day,
or part of one day.โ Roarkeโs private island was a favored
spot, but it was practically on the other side of the world.
Even in his jet it would take at least three hours one way.
โA bit far for an impulse, but there are closer. Thereโs a
spot on the Caymans that might suit, and a small villa
thatโs available for the day.โ
โAnd you know this because?โ
โIโve looked into acquiring it,โ he said easily. โSo we
could fly down, get there in under an hour, check it out,
enjoy the sun and surf and drink some foolish cocktails. End
the day with a walk along the beach in the moonlight.โ
She found herself smiling. โHow small a villa?โ
โSmall enough to serve as a nice impulse holiday spot for
us, and roomy enough to allow us to travel down with a few
friends if weโve a mind to.โ
โYouโd already had this thought.โ
โI had, yes, and put it in the if-and-when department. If
youโd like it, we can make this the when.โ
โI can be dressed and toss whatever Iโd need for the day in
a bag in under ten minutes.โ
She leaped up, bolted toward her dresser.
โBagโs packed,โ he told her. โFor both of us. In case.โ
She glanced back at him. โYou never miss a trick.โ
โItโs rare to have a Sunday off with my wife. I like making
the most of it.โ
She tossed the robe to pull on a simple white tank, then
grabbed out a pair of khaki shorts. โWeโve had a good start
on making the most. This should cap it off.โ
Even as she stepped into the shorts, the communicator on her
dresser signaled. โCrap. Damn it. Shit!โ Her stomach
dropped as she read the display. Her glance at Roarke was
full of regret and apology. โItโs Whitney.โ
He watched the cop take over, face, posture, as she picked
up the communicator to respond to her commander. And he
thought, Ah well.
โYes, sir.โ
โLieutenant, Iโm sorry to interrupt your holiday.โ Whitneyโs
wide face filled the tiny screen, and on it rode a stress
that had the muscles tightening at the back of her neck.
โItโs no problem, Commander.โ
โI realize youโre off the roll, but thereโs a situation. I
need you to report to Five-forty-one Central Park South. Iโm
on scene now.โ
โYouโre on scene, sir?โ Bad, she thought, big and bad for
the commander
to be on scene.
โAffirmative. The victim is Deena MacMasters, age sixteen.
Her body was discovered earlier this morning by her parents
when they returned home from a weekend away. Dallas, the
victimโs father is Captain Jonah MacMasters.โ
It took her a moment. โIllegals. I know of Lieutenant
MacMasters. Heโs been promoted?โ
โTwo weeks ago. MacMasters has specifically requested you as
primary. I would like to grant that request.โ
โIโll contact Detective Peabody immediately.โ
โIโll take care of that. Iโd like you here asap.โ
โThen Iโm on my way.โ
โThank you.โ
She disengaged the communicator, turned to Roarke. โIโm
sorry.โ
โDonโt.โ He crossed to her, tapped his fingertip on the
shallow dent in her chin. โA manโs lost his child, and
thatโs a great deal more important than a bit of beach. You
know him?โ
โNot really. He contacted me after I took Casto down.โ She
thought of the wrong cop whoโd gone after her at her wedding
eve party. โMacMasters wasnโt his LT, but he wanted to give
me a nod for closing that case, and taking down a bad cop. I
appreciated it. Heโs got a rep,โ she continued as she
changed the holiday shorts for work trousers. โA good, solid
rep. I hadnโt heard about his promotion, but Iโm not
surprised by it.โ
She tidied her choppy cap of hair by raking her fingers
through it. โHeโs got about twenty years on the job. Maybe
twenty-five. I hear he draws a hard line and sticks to it,
makes sure those serving under him do the same. He closes
cases.โ
โSounds like someone else I know.โ
She pulled a shirt out of the closet. โMaybe.โ
โWhitney didnโt tell you how the girl was killed.โ
โHe wants and needs me to come in without any
preconceptions. He didnโt say it was homicide. Thatโs for me
and the ME to determine."
She picked up her weapon harness, strapped it on. Pocketed
her communicator, her โlink, hooked on her restraints. She
didnโt bother to frown when Roarke offered her the
summer-weight jacket heโd selected out of her closet to go
over her sidearm. โWhitneyโs being there means one of two
things,โ she told him. โItโs hinky, or theyโre personal
friends. Maybe both.โ
โFor him to be on scene . . .โ
โYeah.โ She sat to pull on the boots she preferred for work.
โA copโs kid. I donโt know when Iโll get back.โ
โNot an issue.โ
She stopped, looked at him, thought about bags packed just
in case, and walks in the tropical moonlight. โYou could fly
down, check this villa out.โ
โIโve work enough I can see to here to keep me busy.โ He
laid his hands on her shoulders when she rose, laid his lips
on hers. โGet in touch when you have a better handle on the
situation.โ
โI will. See you then.โ
โTake care, Lieutenant.โ
She jogged downstairs, barely breaking stride when
Summerset, Roarkeโs man of just about everything and the
pebble in her shoe, materialized in the foyer.
โI was under the assumption you were off duty until
tomorrow.โ
โThereโs a dead body, which unfortunately isnโt yours.โ Then
she paused at the door. โTalk him into doing something
thatโs not work. Just because I have to . . .โ She shrugged,
and walked out to meet death.
Few cops could afford to live in a single-family residence
on the verdant edges of Central Park. Then again, few
copsโwell, none other than herselfโlived in a freaking
castle-manor estate in Manhattan. Curious about how
MacMasters managed his digs, she did a quick run on him as
she navigated the light holiday morning traffic.
MacMasters, Captain Jonah, her dash comp told her, born
March 22, 2009, Providence, Rhode Island. Parents Walter and
Marybeth nee Hastings. Educated Stonebridge Academy, further
education Yale, graduated 2030. Married Franklin, Carol
2040, one offspring, female, Deena, born November 23, 2043.
Joined NYPSD September 15, 2037. Commendations and honors
includeโ
โSkip that. Finances. Whereโs the money come from?โ
Working . . . Current worth approximately eight million,
six hundred thousand. Inherited a portion of grandfatherโs
estate. MacMasters, Jonah, died
natural causes June 6, 2032, founder Mac Kitchen and Bath,
based in Providence. Companyโs current worthโ
โGood enough. Asked and answered.โ
Family money, she thought. Yale educated. Ends up an
Illegals cop in New York. Interesting. One spouse and a
twenty-year marriage, commendations and honors on the job.
Promoted to captain. It all said what she already knew of
him.
Solid.
Now this solid cop she barely knew had specifically
requested her as primary in the investigation of his only
childโs death. Why was that? She wondered.
Sheโd ask.
When she reached the address she pulled in behind a
black-and-white. As she engaged her On Duty light, she took
a survey of the house. Nice digs, she thought, and got out
to retrieve her field kit. And, though she was in danger of
overusing the word, it struck her as solid.
PreโUrban Wars construction, nicely rehabbed so it
maintained its character, showed a few scars. It looked
dignified, she thought, the rosy brick, the creamy trim, the
long windowsโcurrently shielded with privacy screens, every
one.
Pots of colorful flowers stood guard on either side of the
short flight of stone steps, a pretty touch she supposed.
But she was more interested, as she stepped over and crossed
the sidewalk, in the security.
Full cameras, view screen, thumb pad, and sheโd bet
voice-activated locks with a coded bypass. A cop, and
particularly one with good scratch, would be sure to fully
protect his home and everythingโeveryone in it.
And still his teenage daughter was dead inside.
You could never cover all the bases.
She took her badge out of her pocket to flash the uniform at
the door, then hooked it to her waistband.
โTheyโre waiting for you inside, Lieutenant.โ
โAre you first on scene?โ
โNo, sir. First on sceneโs inside, along with the commander
and the captain and his wife. My partner and I were called
in by the commander. My partnerโs on the rear.โ
โOkay. My partner will be arriving shortly. Peabody,
Detective.โ
โIโve been apprised, Lieutenant. Iโll pass her through.โ
Not a rookie, Eve thought as she waited for him to pass her
in. The uniform was both seasoned and tough. Had Whitney
called him in, or the captain?
She glanced to the left, to the right, and imagined people
in the neighboring houses who were awake and at home keeping
watch, but too politeโor too intimidatedโto come out and
play obvious lookie-loos.
She stepped in to a cool, wide foyer with a central
staircase. Flowers on the table, she noted, very fresh. Only
a day, maybe two old. A little bowl that held some sort of
colored mints. Everything in soft, warm colors. No clutter,
but a pair of glossy purple sandalsโone under, one beside a
high-backed chair.
Whitney stepped out of a doorway to the left. He filled it,
she thought, with the bulk of his body. His dark face was
lined with concern, and she caught the glint of sorrow in
his eyes.
And still his voice was neutral when he spoke. Years of
being a cop held him straight.
โLieutenant, weโre in here. If youโd take a moment before
going up to the scene.โ
โYes, sir.โ
โBefore you do, Iโll thank you for agreeing to take this
case.โ When she hesitated, he nearly smiled. โIf I didnโt
put it to you as your choice, I should have.โ
โThereโs no question, Commander. The captain wants me, heโs
got me.โ
With a nod, he stepped back to lead her into the room.
There was a little jolt, she could admit it, when she saw
Mrs. Whitney. The commanderโs wife tended to intimidate her
with her starched manner, cool delivery, and blue blood. But
at the moment, she appeared to be fully focused on
comforting the woman beside her on a small sofa in a pretty
parlor.
Carol MacMasters, Eve concluded, a small, dark-haired beauty
to contrast Anna Whitneyโs blonde elegance. In her drenched
black eyes, Eve read both devastation and confusion. Her
slight shoulders shivered as if she sat naked in ice.
MacMasters rose as she came in. She judged him at about
six-four, and lean to the point of gangly. His casual dress
of jeans and T-shirt coincided with returning from a brief
holiday. His hair, dark like his wifeโs, had a tight curl
and remained full and thick around a lean face with deep
cheek grooves that may have been dimples in his youth. His
eyes, a pale, almost misty green, met hers levelly. In them
she saw grief and shock, and anger.
He moved to her, held out a hand. โThank you. Lieutenant . .
.โ He seemed to run out of words.
โ
Captain, Iโm very sorry, very sorry for your loss.โ
โSheโs the one?โ Carol struggled up even as tears spilled
down her cheeks. โYouโre Lieutenant Dallas?โ
โYes, maโam. Mrs. MacMastersโโ
โJonah said it had to be you. Youโre the best there is.
Youโll find out who . . . how . . . But sheโll still be
gone. My baby will still be gone. Sheโs upstairs. Sheโs up
there, and I canโt be with her.โ Her voice pitched from raw
grief toward hysteria. โThey wonโt let me go be with her.
Sheโs dead. Our Deenaโs dead.โ
โHere now, Carol, you have to let the lieutenant do what she
can.โ
Mrs. Whitney stood up to drape an arm around Carol.
โCanโt I just sit with her? Canโt I justโโ
โSoon.โ Mrs. Whitney crooned it. โSoon. Iโll stay with you
now. The lieutenant is going to take good care of Deena.
Sheโll take good care.โ
โIโm going to take you up,โ Whitney said. โAnna.โ
Mrs. Whitney nodded.
Starched and intimidating, Eve thought, but she would handle
a grieving mother and a devastated father.
โYou need to stay down here, Jonah. Iโll be down shortly.
Lieutenant.โ
โYouโre friends with the victimโs parents off the job?โ Eve
asked.
โYes. Anna and Carol serve on some committees together, and
often spend time with each other. We socialize. I brought my
wife as a friend of the victimโs mother.โ
โYes, sir. I believe sheโll be a great help in that area.โ
โThis is hard, Dallas.โ His voice leaden, he started up the
steps.
โWeโve known Deena since she was a little girl. I can tell
you she was the light of their hearts. A bright, lovely
girl.โ
โThe house has excellent security from my eyeball of it. Do
you know if it was activated when the MacMasters returned
this morning?โ
โThe locks were. Jonah found the cameras had been
deactivated, and the discs for the last two days removed. He
touched nothing,โ Whitney added, turning left at the top of
the stairs. โAllowed Carol to touch nothingโbut the girl.
And he prevented his wife from moving the body or disturbing
the scene. Iโm sure we can all understand there were a few
moments of shock.โ
โYes, sir.โ It was awkward, she thought, and uncomfortable
to be thrust in the position of interviewing her commander.
โDo you know what time they returned home this morning?โ
โAt eight-thirty-two, precisely. I took the liberty of
checking the lock
log, and it confirmed Jonahโs statement to me. Iโll give you
a copy of the statement from my home โlink log. He contacted
me immediately, requesting you, and requesting my presence
if possible. I didnโt seal the sceneโher bedroom. But it is
secure.โ
He gestured, stood back. โI think it best if I go down, let
you proceed. When your partner arrives, Iโll send her
directly up.โ
โYes, sir.โ
He nodded again, then sighed as he looked at the open
bedroom door. โDallas . . . Itโs very hard.โ
She waited until heโd turned away, started down the stairs.
Alone, she stepped to the doorway and looked at the young,
dead Deena MacMasters.
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