Page 105 of M for Murder

‘I have to go,’ she mumbled, hunting for the keys to her Jeep amongst the paperwork piled high on her desk.

Hickok nodded, watching her. ‘Hey, Angell, you want me to get someone to go with you?’ he asked, his tone sober.

‘I’ll be fine. I have the address of Kylan’s sister. I’ll go straight to the house, have a chat with her and tell her we’re gonna put her into police protection, and hopefully we will be back tomorrow morning.’

‘Okay.’

Rebecca could tell from his tone that although he still didn’t want her to go alone, there weren’t any more arguments he could use to make her stay.

‘Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you later,’ she said, heading for the door.

Hickok caught hold of her arm. His voice was serious. ‘Be careful, okay? Just in case.’

Glancing up Rebecca met his eyes. She saw concern in them. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she reassured him, forcing a grin. ‘I drive a lot slower than you do.’

Before leaving for Seattle she returned to her apartment for a quick shower and changed from her uniform into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She fed Sabrina and found her road map in one of the kitchen drawers. Certain that there was nothing else she needed to do, she took two cans of Pepsi from the cooler box of the refrigerator and grabbed her Jeep keys from the work top. Saying goodbye to the cat, she left her apartment.

Outside, she crossed the road to where she had parked her Jeep. She deposited the Pepsi cans in the glove compartment, selected a Chili Peppers cassette and slid it into the tape player. As she started the engine she glanced at the clock on the dashboard, estimating how long it would take her to drive to Seattle. It was already past six and it was unlikely that she would get there much before midnight.

Hoping the killer hadn’t followed Kylan Parker, she shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb.

Joel had been worried about Kylan Parker being attacked ever since they had learned her true identity. Now, and for more selfish reasons than he cared to admit, he had more cause for concern. He kept telling himself that Kylan would be fine, that Angell would be fine. Much as he didn’t like it, it was looking increasingly unlikely that Lawrence Parker was their killer. There was no need to worry.

That didn’t stop him from picking up the phone later that evening and dialling Parker’s number.

He let it ring twelve times without getting an answer.

Maybe he’s asleep.

Despite his best efforts to convince himself that there was nothing wrong, Joel was still uneasy. Knowing how much he hated those niggling questions that began with ‘what if’, he grabbed his car keys. Ten minutes later he found himself knocking on Parker’s front door. There was no car in the driveway, and it looked as though no one was home. Knowing better, but also knowing that he had to put his mind at rest, Joel tried the front door, surprised when it opened.

Hesitantly, he stepped inside.

‘Lawrie? Lawrie? It’s Special Agent Hickok. Are you home?’ There was no answer.

Closing the door, Joel unholstered his weapon and conducted a quick search of the house.

When he stepped into the guest bedroom his attention was immediately drawn to the case that was open on the bed. It was filled with clothes, all of them packed neatly with the exception of a blue dress, which was draped across the top of the pile. Was someone planning a vacation?

He took a step closer and picked up the dress. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place it.

The other clothes in the case were both male and female: jeans, sweaters, another dress…

He looked at the blue dress again, frowning.

Short, silky, midnight-blue, patterned with tiny white flowers, he remembered with a start that he had seen it before on Emma Keeley. She had been wearing the dress in the picture that Mindy Tyson had given him. Furiously he started to pull the other clothes from the case: the jeans and sweaters, jackets and sneakers, the dress. A black leather wallet dropped from the pocket of a black denim jacket and Joel stooped to pick it up.

Inside was a photo ID. The smiling face in the picture was Scott Jagger.

He thought of Angell on her way to Seattle and he realised there was a strong possibility that Lawrence Parker might already be there.

When Agnes Barnes told Max that Karen Harris hadn’t shown up for work at all on Thursday and hadn’t answered her phone when she’d called, he felt his stomach start to churn. The last time he had seen her had been Wednesday evening when she had been waiting for Boaz to leave the library. Now she was missing and so was he.

Assisted by Agnes and one of Captain Trent’s officers, Pete Bakerman, he drove over to the librarian’s house, hoping against hope that the feeling he had about Boaz would turn out to be wrong.

Agnes directed them to her colleague’s house, a neat two-bedroom property that overlooked the bay, repeatedly telling them that Karen was always reliable and never took sick days. Her words didn’t offer Max much comfort as he climbed from the patrol car, telling her to wait in the back.

As he crossed the neatly maintained lawn, he felt his legs start to shake. If he opened the door now and found Karen Harris lying dead on the floor, how would he live with his guilt, knowing that he’d been responsible for bringing her killer to the small town?