Between the two of them with their phones, they'd managed to make pretty short work of all the paper inside, and even catch the backside of several things. Abbie's accounting system had been just as terrible as her renter’s documentation—notes written on the backs of receipts and more.
Maggie pulled out a napkin with one line about a rental agreement, a date, and two signatures. “Well, that won’t hold up in court.” She sighed and snapped a photo anyway. The date was old enough that no one was going to come after her for anything, at least.
At least Maggie now had pictures of the box and everything in it.
Sebastian asked, “Do we organize it and put it back in nicely?”
All Maggie could say was, “If they check it, our fingerprints will be on everything. And I'll tell them the truth, that we’d been looking through the house for over a week and checking all the records. She didn't have it organized. I don't see any reason for us to make it neater than she did.”
So the two of them haphazardly shoved the contents back into the box. Maggie thought it looked exactly as it had when she found it, and they put it back where it had been originally—in the back of the closet.
“Did you put it back for a reason?”
Maggie looked around the room. “I’m not trying to mess up evidence. If it's important that it's in here, then we should leave that information for the FBI.”
Just as they confiscated the jewelry box, the Feds were very likely going to confiscate lots of items from her home. She could only hope they didn't stab the furniture and check the stuffing. She didn’t have the funds to replace it.
It was then that Sebastian tried again to convince her to get some sleep.
She shook her head. “The office has other papers, her drawers are full of crap,” That I should have cleaned out before. But when would she have done it? She was renovating and watching Hannah! “And we need to check every room.”
“I checked this morning. While you were working.”
Maggie nodded. “But did you photograph it? We need evidence, not memory.”
He looked to the ceiling and put his hands up as if to say, No, of course I didn't think of that. But she waved him off.
“That’s not on you!” The last thing she wanted was to make this man feel anything other than as safe and appreciated as he made her feel. “When you were checking everything, you were just trying to keep my house safe and the FBI wasn't on the way to ransack it.”
They spent more time wandering each room with their phones. They stuck together, bouncing ideas off each other in an easy manner that once again made her regret saying yes to Rex. But Sebastian hadn’t asked her out. Could she nudge him that way? Maggie tried to pay attention to something other than his backside as Sebastian showed her how he checked the floorboards in the closets.
They photographed the placement of all the furniture. They opened drawers in the old boarders’ rooms and took pictures of any contents left behind. When Maggie found a drawer full of letters, she opened each of them up and photographed both sides of the pages, as well as the envelope. It was tedious work, but this was her property, and she had the feeling it wasn't going to be her property after the FBI came through. She’d be lucky if she ever got it back.
As she put the last letter back into the drawer as she’d found it, she turned and spotted Sebastian’s fine ass in the air as he checked the floorboards in this closet.
He seemed to know she was watching and spoke loud enough for her to hear. “This is how I tested them earlier and didn't find any secret doors. I’m just photographing now.”
Having finished with the letters, she got pictures of the two mismatched socks and a very old cigar she found in the other drawer, Maggie headed over to the closet to join him.
“Is there any attic access?” She looked up.
“Not from the ground floor,” he told her and for a moment she felt stupid. Then she remembered she hadn't slept in a long time. He didn't look at her like she was being an idiot and she was grateful.
“What about the back wall?” she asked, wondering if it was equally stupid. “Isn't that where you always find a secret panel?”
This time, he shrugged and turned back to the closet, tapping on the wall and checking for seams. He pushed on it and nothing happened. Once again she felt silly.
But, three rooms later, the wall on the back of the closet gave way.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sebastian hadn’t thought anything would come of Maggie’s suggestion to try the backs of the closets. Finding something under the floorboards was strange enough.
But as he looked into the closet, he realized the wallpaper didn’t line up. He hadn’t noticed before, maybe he’d become immune to what people did with their homes over the years.
The design was floral and incredibly busy—easy to miss the odd seam—but when he pushed, it gave. He pushed a little more. It took a few minutes to realize it wasn’t anything like a trap door with a hinge, simply a loose piece set into place at the back of the closet.
He pried and the piece fell into his hands. It was a piece of plywood that had been wallpapered. As Sebastian examined it, he realized it wasn’t even the same wallpaper design, just very close. Also, none of it was the same as the walls; the house was old enough to be made of lathe and plaster.
Interesting.
But when he looked back to what he’d revealed, his stomach dropped. Immediately he looked over his shoulder, double checking when he was already certain. This was the room with the loose floorboard.
“Sebastian?” Maggie asked. He wished she didn't see this.
Nails had been driven into the wall in between the studs. Individual pieces of jewelry hung from each nail. Longer necklaces hung from a single nail. A bracelet hung from another but, below it, another nail held another bracelet, indicating the nails were built in as the pieces were added.
“This is more of the same collection, isn't it?” Maggie asked warily, as if she didn’t even have it in her to be surprised.
Sebastian nodded. The FBI was going to have a field day with this.
“I’m going to take pictures,” she said it in a flat tone, but he could tell she was as disturbed as he was. “I’ll take some with and without flash.”
Maggie had immediately become an archivist.
“Don’t touch anything,” he warned, though he figured she knew that.
The way the jewelry was hung up—each piece on its own peg—said something even more disturbing than the box they'd found. This jewelry was special.
The box had been the discards.
Sebastian would have liked to believe that at least this stash was the work of one of the two criminals and the box was the other. Unfortunately, he couldn’t delude himself. Pieces from both serial cases had been found in the jewelry box. He wondered what the chances were that the feds would find evidence linking both from this set of jewelry.
As the flash went off behind him, he moved to the side and tried to reason his way through what they’d found.
He wasn't a detective, nor an agent, but he did know a little something. He understood that criminals changed their M.O. as they evolved over time. It made sense to him that the La Vista Rapist might become the Blue River Killer, but the timelines didn’t work. The Rapist started up after the murders had. And the Blue River Killer didn't sexually assault his victims.
Given his own limited knowledge, Sebastian was relatively confident that they were two different people. Which meant they were working together. There was no way for this jewelry to be good news unless it was just a glut of evidence … enough to catch the men responsible.
Maggie's flash glinted off something as she moved from side to side. Sebastian held his hand up. “Hold on.”
“Don't touch it,” she told him, reiterating his own earlier warning.
He wanted to grin. But there was no grinning as he stuck his head closer to the hole and looked down into the floor. Reaching into his back pocket for his own
phone, he aimed the light downward.
“There are photographs in the bottom.”
“What?” Maggie said, leaning forward, the two of them trying to share the small closet space.
As much as he enjoyed being up close and personal with Maggie, being shoved together over sick crime scene trophies didn’t qualify. He caught a better glimpse and warned her. “Don't look. Just hand me a phone to take pictures.”
He’d only caught a glimpse of the images, but it was enough to turn his stomach. Sitting back on his heels, he asked Maggie if she had enough photos.
Then he set the board back in front of the jewelry, not pushing it back into place, but covering the hole.
“We'll have to walk the FBI through the house and tell them the various things we found,” Maggie said, as a matter of course. “And we now have to confess that we were documenting everything before they came. Because if we had known about this before they arrived and didn’t tell them …? I don’t know how to explain that. And I won’t hold up under a polygraph.”
He nodded but swallowed hard, his thoughts running in a different direction.
Initially, he'd been disturbed by Kalan’s comment that it might be a serial killer. Kalan was a smart guy, but he was also constantly watching Forensic Files at the station house. So it had been very easy to believe that he was simply overshooting. Now, Sebastian was relatively confident that Kalan—though joking—maybe subconsciously recognized something about the jewelry box.
When they’d done everything they could with the new find, they headed through the rest of the rooms, luckily not finding more. If there was anything else, he was content to let the feds deal with it.
“It looks like whoever it was, was staying in that room.”
“Why leave it behind, though?” Maggie asked. “Why not take it with him?”
Sebastian shrugged. He had no good answers for that.
Every room was now cataloged and Maggie looked dead on her feet. He tried again to convince her to sleep the remaining few hours.
“I don't think I can sleep,” she said. “And I can’t even take any medication, because the FBI could be back at any time.”
“We still have almost four more hours,” he said. It had only taken a few to go through the house. They’d gotten very fast at snapping pictures.
“That's if they honor my wishes,” Maggie reminded him.
“Then it's all the more important that we get you whatever sleep we can now.”
Though she nodded in agreement, she was still protesting. “I’m too dirty to lay down on the bed.”
They had gotten a bit dusty in their searches. Many of the rooms hadn't been cleaned and some of the renters had vacated as long as a year or so ago, maybe more.
“We need to change,” he agreed, looking at the dirt scuffs on his knees. There would be little doubt what he’d been doing. “If the FBI shows up and we're filthy, they'll figure us out.”
“It’s not illegal,” Maggie told him. “It’s my house.”
“I know, but it seems like poor form.”
“Do you have another change of clothing?”
“Maybe.” At one point, he'd found four full changes of clothes he’d been carrying in his bag. If he was lucky, he'd find another now.
Reaching into the duffel, he dug through Redemption Fire Department shirts, tons of spare socks, towels for his workout, swim trunks and goggles for the pool, and more. Eventually his fingers, closed around another roll of clothing at the bottom of the bag. “Got it!”
In a few minutes, they both looked roughly the same, but cleaner. He managed to convince her to sit on the couch with him. Convinced her to lean her head on his shoulder. And it only took a few moments before he felt her sinking into him. Slowly, finally, getting some of the sleep she needed.
If only his brain wasn’t spinning with the find in the closet. It was all too close to Maggie.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Maggie woke up alone on the couch. The crick in her neck from a couple days ago had returned with a vengeance and now her back was sore to go with it.
Sadly, she was lying directly on the couch—not on Sebastian, which was where she remembered falling asleep. He must have eased his way out from underneath her. Bummer. It would have felt just as good to wake up on him, too.
Slowly she stood and stretched, and though she knew the stretch was necessary, she regretted doing it. Her neck hurt.
The sound of footsteps pushed through the heavy sigh she gave at waking up, but they came from her right, not down the hallway. She frowned until she saw Sebastian come around the corner from the dining room.
“Hey,” he grinned at her and if he’d called her sleepyhead she would have taken it. “I hope you don't mind. I got into the kitchen.”
“I don't mind at all.”
She wondered what he'd done in there, taking pictures of her pots and pans, or mostly, Aunt Abbie's pots and pans that had been left to her. Maybe the interior of the oven—but, no, they’d already photographed the kitchen for posterity. And as she got closer, she realized it smelled really good.
“You cook?” she asked.
“Decent.” He offered only a shrug, but the decadent smell disagreed. Then he asked, “You?”
Maggie guessed he was being polite. If he’d been in her kitchen, then he already knew the answer was ‘not unless she had to.’ “I’m great with a crock pot and I can microwave a mean pizza.”
She tossed the words out but then watched as he cringed, clearly believing pizza did not belong in the microwave. Maggie spied cutting boards, plates, and knives across the countertop. “What did you do?”
“I hope it's okay,” he didn’t really answer.
She motioned as if to say anything is fine. Anyone who wanted to feed her, particularly anyone who wanted to look that good doing it, was more than welcome. “I'm easy,” she said, then realized that might not have been the right thing to say to a man she had just fallen asleep on top of.
Sebastian only grinned then pointed at the counter.
A plate of bruschetta was laid out with toasted french bread covered with chopped tomatoes, peppers and black olives. He’d grated cheese and drizzled it with something dark.
“You had balsamic vinegar,” he answered her confused look. “So bruschetta seemed like a good choice.”
She didn’t know she had balsamic vinegar.
“I found fish fillets in the freezer. I put those in the oven.”
Ah, she thought, she'd smelled that too.
“And I found frozen peas.”
Maggie almost grimaced. He'd pulled food out of her freezer, because it was really the only place she had actual food. “It looks fantastic.”
“I hope you didn’t have plans for the fish.”
“I eat whatever, whenever.” She hoped to let him know that she was grateful he’d cooked for her, but maybe she’d let him know she wasn’t really capable of feeding herself anything other than frozen foods and the occasional soup.
She motioned him to the dining room table—yet another ornate, antique piece, that someone, somewhere would love to own. That person just wasn’t her.
They were mostly through the meal when the knock came and Maggie dragged herself to the front door. Sure enough, Watson and Decker had returned, warrant in hand.
She stood, politely blocking their entry, dinner napkin still in her hand. She could tell Sebastian had come from the table, too, and now held guard behind her.
Maggie didn't have any way to fight the search this time and she didn't want to. She didn't want her home torn up, but she understood that there was pertinent information regarding very dangerous criminals here. That evidence needed to go to the people most likely to catch the killer. That was almost definitely the FBI.
Though Watson made a small move as if to come in, Maggie held them at bay. “I’d like to read the warrant first.”
She wasn’t rude enough to do more than scan it. A few minutes wouldn’t change anything
for their search. Her legal brain decided it was fine. So she nodded but held her hand up, still keeping them on the porch.
There were four agents this time, two unknowns, so she motioned to each of them. “Hello. I'm Maggie Willis and the homeowner and I'm a lawyer.” She didn't normally introduce herself that way, but she didn't want anyone in the FBI thinking that they could get away with anything here. She shook each hand in turn. Then she laid out the rules. Not that she was making them, but she tried.
“If you need to get into any of the furniture, I'll show you how. But I prefer if you don't rip any cushions. I will be suing you for any damages.” Given that they had the warrant, she wasn't sure her threat would hold, but she was certainly going to make it. “You’re welcome to enter any room, or check inside any space, but before you tear anything up, please just ask nicely. Many pieces are antiques.”
With that, she motioned them across the threshold and continued in her weird cross between hostess and legal monitor. “This is Sebastian Kane. He's a local firefighter and a friend of mine. He's been here off and on for a while. He knows the house pretty well. He can answer your questions too.”
She moved them all down the hall, saying, “Come with me.”
Maggie pointed out the room where they'd found the jewelry box and the floorboard under which they'd found it. The FBI was definitely going to pull up the floorboard Sebastian had finally so nicely repaired. It figured.
She had to come clean. “I appreciate you letting me have six hours. I needed the sleep, and I wanted to document everything before you moved it. With Sebastian’s help, both got done. Thank you.”
She next explained that they’d repaired the floor earlier, not knowing it would be evidence. “I know you’ll search everything, but my aunt’s office is upstairs.”
She explained that they’d photographed it all and, no, they hadn’t messed it up, it looked that way before and she would gladly show them a picture. Maggie added that they were welcome to take it if they thought it was helpful. She was confident they would.
Crash and Burn (Wildfire Hearts Book 1) Page 9