“Maybe jealous enough to kill her,” Bree said. “The photos aren’t date-stamped. We still need physical evidence that puts Trey in Justin’s house the night of the murder.”
“Give it time. The forensics reports aren’t in yet.”
“True.”
Something thumped outside. Bree froze. Matt did the same, then turned off his light. Another thump lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.
Why had she let him talk her into breaking and entering? Because he cared about his friend, and she respected loyalty. She’d also ignored the risks because she was obsessed with solving her sister’s murder. But that wouldn’t help her if they got caught. Her getting arrested would be fuel for Craig in a potential custody battle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Matt eased the drawer closed and moved next to the window. He peered through the skinny gap between the frame and the blind. Outside, a man walked toward the garage from the house. Matt pointed to the window and mouthed, “Homeowner.”
Bree nodded, her face grim. If Matt got caught in Trey’s apartment, he’d get a slap on the wrist, and maybe have to pay a fine. As a police officer, Bree had much more to lose.
The homeowner walked closer. Matt scanned the apartment. Was there anywhere to hide? Bree pointed toward the bathroom. It was the only space large enough to conceal them. He turned back to the window. Outside, the man was almost to the garage. Matt held his breath and leaned away from the glass.
But the man didn’t approach the stairs. He opened the overhead garage door and went inside. Matt glanced behind him. Was there a second entrance to the apartment? He didn’t see an additional doorway.
A few seconds later, a car door closed beneath them. Then an engine started. A Toyota Camry backed out of the garage, down the driveway, and into the street.
Matt exhaled. “It’s clear.”
With a tight nod, Bree headed for the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
They left the apartment exactly as they’d found it. Bree locked the door on their way out. They crept down the stairs and into the shadow of the hedge. Crouching, they jogged all the way back to Matt’s Suburban.
He started the engine. “I’m sorry I talked you into breaking the law. You could lose your job.”
Bree faced him from the passenger seat. “I don’t blame you. I’m an adult. I made my decision. That’s not the issue. I might not be going back to the PPD anyway. Before Craig showed up, I’d decided to move here to raise the kids. That’s what Erin wanted. But if he wins . . . Hell, I don’t know what I’ll do. Part of me says I should stick close to them no matter what. But Craig hates me. If he successfully sues for custody, he won’t let me near them. But if there’s a custody suit, a B and E won’t help my case. As much as I want to solve my sister’s murder, I can’t afford to do anything like that again. I can’t let Erin’s case make me lose sight of what’s important.”
“If he sues for custody, you’ll fight him in court?”
“I don’t know.” Bree stopped and reached for the door handle. “It depends on what the kids want and what my chances are. The last thing I want to do is hurt them. We’ll see what the lawyer says when she has all the information.”
So many factors to weigh in every decision. So much at stake for two grieving children. Bree’s responsibilities went way beyond her needing to remain alive.
“Do you want me to take you home before I meet with Nico?”
“No. You can’t go alone. You need backup. At least Nico isn’t a hidden threat. We know what we’re getting into.”
Not entirely. How can I shift some of the risk away from Bree tonight?
“How are you with a long gun?” he asked.
“I’m good.” Confidence with no bravado rang in her voice.
“Then you’ll cover me.”
From as far away as possible.
Matt stopped at his house and picked up his rifle. Then he drove to the same warehouse complex where he’d met Kevin earlier in the week. He turned into the parking lot. It looked much the same, except a few more tire tracks crossed the snowy asphalt. “We have thirty minutes. You need to get into position.”
Bree donned her body armor and shrugged her wool coat over it. She gave him some side-eye. “You should be wearing a vest too.”
“I’m not a cop anymore.”
“You still bleed.”
“I have no reason to own body armor.” Matt stepped out of the SUV.
Bree met him behind the vehicle. “We’re in the parking lot of a vacant warehouse meeting your old confidential informant and a drug dealer. I think that’s a damned good reason.”
“Good thing I have you for backup.”
“You’ll take this.” Bree removed a backup piece from her ankle holster.
“No.”
“Damn it. What if something happens and you need to back me up?” She leaned into his SUV and put the gun in the console. “I know you shoot better than you think.”
“Fine.” Matt retrieved his rifle from the cargo area of his SUV and handed it to her. “Sorry. It’s not an AR.”
“I can do old school.” She took it and sighted down the barrel, then switched on the laser sight. A green dot appeared on the building fifty feet away.
After scanning the lot, she nodded toward the abandoned warehouse in the rear of the complex. Most of the windows were broken. “I’ll find a concealed spot.” She balanced the rifle in the crook of her arm. “I’ll be watching.” She turned, jogged across the snow, and disappeared into the shadow of the building.
Matt climbed back into his truck to wait. He missed Brody, but he didn’t want to risk the dog getting shot or distracting Bree. Kevin wouldn’t fall for the same trick again. He’d come prepared to deal with the dog.
Matt reached into the glove compartment for his camera. He ignored the gun.
Waiting sucked. He started the truck every ten minutes to blast the heat, but his hand began to cramp. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes before his scheduled meeting time, headlights appeared on the main road. Matt looked through his camera and focused on the entrance to the parking lot. It was too dark to see the license plate, but the vehicle was Kevin’s pickup truck.
The pickup turned into the lot and stopped a few feet short of the pool of light cast by the streetlamp. The door of the pickup creaked open, and Kevin climbed out. Matt stepped out of his Suburban. They met in the middle, under the streetlamp.
“Where’s my money?” Kevin asked.
“Nice to see you too.”
“Fuck you. We had a deal.”
“OK. OK. Relax.” Matt reached into his jeans pocket in a slow, deliberate motion. He pulled out the folded bills and offered them to Kevin.
Kevin wore a knit hat low on his brow. Under it, his eyes avoided contact with Matt’s as he snatched the money.
The skin between Matt’s shoulder blades itched. “What’s going on, Kevin?”
“I’m sorry, man. I tried to warn you.” Kevin lifted his eyes. A grim frown split his gaunt face.
Tires grated on snow. Matt’s head whipped toward the sound. A vehicle was pulling off the main road. Its headlights flipped on.
Kevin stepped back, raising his hands. “Nothing I could do, man. Nico doesn’t like people asking questions about him.”
The new vehicle was a black Ford Explorer. As it drove closer, the overhead light reflected on the windshield, creating a mirror effect. Matt’s heart thudded. The light shifted and he could see a vague shape behind the wheel, but he couldn’t tell how many people were inside. Mud partially obscured the license plate, but Matt could see the first three letters.
Kevin jumped into his pickup truck and fishtailed out of the lot.
Despite the freezing wind, cold sweat broke out on Matt’s back as he waited. Thirty seconds later, the driver’s door of the Explorer opened, and a man climbed out. Lean and wiry, he studied Matt for two breaths before approaching. The dealer wore a black knit hat and a heavy coat that concealed any
weapons he might be carrying, and Matt was sure he was carrying multiple weapons. He stopped a few feet away. His face was narrow, his eyes colder than the wind blowing across the surrounding fields.
“Are you Nico?” Matt asked.
Though he didn’t admit to anything, the man’s eyes flickered with recognition of the name. “What do you want?”
“I want to buy some oxy.”
A scar that bisected Nico’s eyebrow shifted as he squinted. “Don’t fuck with me. I want to know what is going on right now.”
“I need information,” Matt said.
Nico didn’t move. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” Matt said. “In fact, I’m trying to find my friend before the cops do.” He pulled out a picture of Justin. “I know he was an acquaintance of yours.”
Nico ignored the photo. “Don’t know him.”
“I’ll pay you for the information,” Matt said.
Cold anger flared in Nico’s eyes. “I don’t sell information.” He reached into his pocket and whipped out a switchblade. “How can I make it clear that I am not interested?”
Sweat broke under Matt’s arms, and he wished he had Bree’s gun in his pocket. But no, he’d been stubborn. Nico opened the knife with one smooth flick of his wrist.
A small green dot appeared in the center of Nico’s chest.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Matt nodded toward the light.
Nico froze. His gaze dropped to the laser dot. The light slowly drifted up from the center of his chest to his face. His hand opened, and he dropped the knife in the snow.
Matt held the photo up in front of Nico’s face. “I just want to find him. That’s all.”
Nico focused on the picture. “I know him. That’s the guy the cops want for killing his wife.”
“But you know him from before.”
“Yes.”
Matt lowered the photo. “Did you kill her?”
Nico’s gaze followed the green light as it wandered back down the centerline of his body to stop on his groin. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Kill who?”
“Justin’s wife.”
“Why would I kill her?” Nico dodged the question.
“Because Justin owes you money,” Matt suggested.
Nico shrugged. “He doesn’t. I don’t extend credit. This is a cash-only business. And even if he did, killing a client would not result in collecting payment. A good beating, on the other hand, can be an excellent motivator. Hypothetically speaking.”
“When was the last time you saw Justin?” Matt asked.
“I seen him about a week ago,” Nico said. The green dot on his groin still held his attention. “Last Friday he called me in the morning, but he didn’t have enough money for what he wanted. He only had enough to score some H—again, hypothetically speaking.”
Shock paralyzed Matt for a minute. H was heroin, and plenty of people who became addicted to oxycodone eventually ended up on heroin because it was a cheaper alternative. But he’d never thought Justin would become a heroin addict.
“Did he buy heroin?” Matt wished he could arrest Nico.
Or shoot him.
How many people does he supply with that poison every day? He should be in prison.
“He declined,” Nico said. “But I expected him to call saying he changed his mind. That’s what usually happens.” He raised both his hands. “Look, man. That’s all I know.”
“Do you have an alibi for Tuesday evening?”
“I was at my grandmother’s viewing. There are fifty people who will vouch for me, including the funeral director.” Nico glanced at the green dot. “Murphy’s Funeral Home in Scarlet Falls.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Even drug dealers had grandmothers, Matt supposed.
“Yaya was ninety-two and died in her sleep. We should all be so lucky.” But moisture in Nico’s eyes belied his nonchalant attitude.
Matt tossed a hundred bucks onto the snow next to the switchblade, then he stepped backward and gestured toward the ground.
Nico scooped up the cash and his knife. “Don’t call me again. I won’t be surprised a second time.” Then Nico backpedaled to his vehicle and sped away.
Matt watched the taillights fade into the darkness.
A few minutes later, Bree appeared at his side, rifle in hand, and they headed for the SUV. Their breath puffed out in front of them. Her cheeks were bright from the cold.
Inside the vehicle, Matt returned her gun, started the engine, and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I recorded the conversation, just in case I might need it later.”
She slid her compact 9mm back into its ankle holster.
He played the recording for Bree as he drove out of the lot. “Three letters and the make and model should be enough to ID Nico through his vehicle registration.”
“Then we can verify his alibi.”
“Yes,” he said.
“I’ll email the funeral home in the morning. It’s the same one I’m using for my sister. I’ll arrange a meeting with the director.”
“I can take care of the alibi if you want to focus on your sister’s funeral.”
“No, actually it seems right to work on finding her killer at the same time.”
“Whatever you want.”
Bree spread her hands in front of the heat vents. “Justin wanted to buy oxy last Friday morning, but his dealer only offered him heroin. Friday is also the day he showed up at the salon, upset, and demanded to see Erin.”
“I know Justin.” Matt leaned back in his seat. “I think he was freaked out by the thought of moving to heroin. He could blame popping pills on his injury from the car accident and his chronic pain, but shooting up heroin? Pills say substance abuse. Heroin says junkie.”
“Then why did he go to Erin? Why not you?”
Matt grimaced. “I would have insisted he go back to rehab.”
“That would have been the right move.” Bree removed her coat and vest, then put the coat back on. She tossed the body armor into the back seat. “Why did he give Erin his burner phone?”
“Maybe that was his way of cutting ties with Nico and making sure he didn’t buy heroin.”
“He could have destroyed the phone,” Bree said.
“Maybe he just couldn’t.”
Bree sat up straighter. “What if that was her idea? Maybe that’s how she calmed him down enough for him to go home alone.”
“She took away his ability to change his mind so he couldn’t call Nico and buy heroin.”
“But did she know how low he was sinking before Friday?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. He had become very good at concealing his habit.” Matt wrapped his fingers around the heated steering wheel. The ache in his hand began to subside.
“In a way, I understand his freak-out. He was out of control and terrified by the temptation to try heroin.”
“Justin and I were injured at around the same time. We were both prescribed oxycodone. We both have residual pain. Why did he become addicted and not me? It never even occurred to me to seek more drugs after my bottle ran out.”
“I’ve read studies that show the tendency toward addiction is hereditary. My father was a drunk, his father was a drunk, and so on. It’s why I never have more than a single drink, and it’s the reason I turned down painkillers when I threw out my back tackling a suspect a few years ago. Drug and alcohol addiction scare me almost as much as dogs. I have too many fears.”
“You aren’t afraid to chase potentially armed criminals,” Matt pointed out.
“It’s the loss of self-control that I fear. Alcohol brought out the violence in my father’s nature. Sober, he was just mean. Drunk, he was terrifying.” Bree rubbed the armrest. “Addiction destroyed my family.”
Matt wondered if it had also killed her sister.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bree rose before the sun and went through her morning yoga routine. She would have loved to go for a run but was wimpy about the cold t
his early in the morning. After she’d showered and dressed, she tiptoed into Luke’s bedroom and shut off his alarm. Normally, he got up to feed the horses, but there was no reason they both needed to be up this early. His light had still been on when she’d returned home past midnight. She wasn’t sleeping well and suspected neither was he. He was snoring when she left his room and pulled the door almost closed.
Kayla’s door squeaked and moved. Brody’s nose appeared in the opening as he nudged the door open. Bree moved to the other side of the hall. Her pulse accelerated and sweat broke out on her palms.
She breathed, frustrated. She knew the dog wouldn’t hurt her but couldn’t control her automatic response.
He probably had to go outside. His leash was downstairs. Could she walk him? Could she get close enough to snap it onto his collar?
The guest room door opened, and Dana came out of the room. She wore jeans and a bright cobalt sweater. Her lipstick matched a pair of raspberry-colored reading glasses that hung in the crew neck of her sweater.
“How do you look like that already?” Bree asked.
“Here’s a pro tip from someone who’s been dragged out of bed at all hours for the past thirty years. A little lipstick makes you look like you have your shit together even when you’re so tired you can barely spell your own name.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Dana gestured toward the dog. “I’ll take him out.”
Bree hung back, berating herself for being such a coward, until Dana and the dog disappeared down the stairs. Bree went down to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. After stepping into boots and donning a coat and gloves, she went outside. The sun was shining, and the air didn’t feel as cold on her face.
Brody was sniffing his way across the melting snow, with Dana in tow. Bree passed them and went into the barn to feed the horses. She performed the morning barn chores with a rhythm that seemed familiar, almost comforting. When she returned to the kitchen, Dana was pouring coffee. Brody crunched kibble. Vader sat on the island and meowed for his breakfast. Bree filled his bowl and scratched behind his ears. He purred while he ate.
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