Page 68 of Carter

“Yes, ma’am. Ryan Kinsley was only twenty-six years old. He was a good person.”

“Oh my God,” she mutters, looking away. She’s still pale, confused and pained.

“I said I would only take five minutes of your time, and I always keep my word.” I stand up and dig in my pocket to pull out my card. “My time is up, but you can call meanytime and foranything. Not just the case, but… anything at all. If you need any kind of help or advice...” I give her a look, hoping she understands. She doesn’t move though. Just sits there, looking like she can’t believe what I said.

I really don’t want to guilt the woman into talking about this if she doesn’t want to. It’s not my call to make. I can’t force her. I mean, I could, there is a murder involved here, but we’re not there yet—I don’t have enough to prove she was the one there to push harder. And this is tough—I’m not in favor of harassing victims, but in this case, one victim could help another.

Let’s just hope she’ll talk.

If Lilianna is the girl from the alley, she is struggling right now. Coming to terms with the fact that what happened to her didn’t only happen to her. That someone lost their life—and her silence is protecting that murderer.

I can’t make these decisions for her. I can only hope she makes the right one on her own.

I slide my card onto the table.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. Her brown eyes flick to me. “Call me if you need anything.”

She doesn’t respond, just holds my gaze for a moment. Then I walk out of the room and back to my truck, where I sit and stew for far too long.

Once back at the office, I dial Gendreau.

“You’re on speaker,” she says.

“I think Lilianna Travers is the girl.”

“Did she say something happened?” Weber asks.

I can tell they’re in a car by the background noise, which isn’t surprising. I think they said they were heading back to the evidence warehouse.

“No, but I’ve visited with her twice. She didn’t know that Ryan Kinsley was murdered that night, and judging by the way she reacted, she knows something. Considering there are no other witnesses…”

“It only makes sense that it was her,” Weber says. “Why else would she react?”

“Exactly,” I grunt.

“This is good. This is really good,” Gendreau adds.

Yes and no.

This is pain she will have to relive. New pain she will have to feel. She will have to make a huge decision and figure how she’s going to do it with her husband being the prick that he is. It’s good for us, yes, but she’s suffering right now.

“Maybe,” I say. “Her husband is a real piece of work. Wasn’t happy that I was in their house while he wasn’t there.”

“He’s one of those.” I hear the eye roll in Gendreau’s voice.

“Right. So we need to tread carefully. I left my card. Hopefully she’ll call.”

“If she doesn’t?” Weber asks.

“I’ll make another visit in a few days. Maybe next week. I don’t want to push too hard. She needs time to think about all of this. Process. It’s a lot.”

“Got it,” Gendreau says.

“Focus on the Howard case and the Lemaunt case for now. Those two could be opened, as long as we get enough.”

“I think we have that already,” Gendreau says. “We were going to bring it to you this afternoon, when we meet.”

“Great, can’t wait to hear it. I still have a pile of unopened files in my office that I need to dig through this morning, but we’ll chat later.”