“Whatis it?” I asked, terrified and teetering on the brink of panic. “Brodie, whatthe hell are you looking at?!”
Withouta word, he turned the phone toward me, and immediately, I gasped, clapping myhand over my mouth. Because there on the screen, was an unmistakable picture ofme, entering the Fort Crow Police Station that morning.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALEC
It wasa crime scene. And the chilling fact that, what I assumed to be Grace’s blood,was all over her hairbrush, shook me deeply, straight to my very core.
Thebastard had brushed her hair. Before or after she had died, I couldn’t say forsure from the wee bit of evidence I had, but the simple fact that he—orshe—wanted her to look better, normal, or even nice left me shivering in a roomtoo hot to be cold.
Whatmade it all so much worse wasthat,this cold-bloodedkiller was aware that Rosie and her son were here. She had been followed, asproven by another picture I found of her sitting inside the crematorium, andwhen Rosie asked what she was supposed to do, all I could say was, “Ye’restayin’ with me.” And she didn’t even protest, as Isuspected she might. She just nodded and called her son, to let him know wewere coming.
“TJ?TJ, honey, what are you doing?” Her eyes met mine, wide with fear and panic, asI slid Grace’s mobile into a bag. “Okay, you've just been watchingTV?Good. Has anybody …” She took a deep breath and closedher eyes. “Has anybody knocked on the door? No? Good, good. That's good. No,n-no, I'm fine. I'm just … I've just had areally crazyday. Um, so the detective and I are on our way now.”
Shewent on, as I quickly scanned the room with my blacklight, looking for anyother signs of blood and finding none. It was so tidy and spotless, without aspeck of visible evidence, apart from the hairbrush, and I was certain itwould've been less bone-chilling had it been painted in the woman's blood.
“We'regoing to pick you up, okay? Get your stuff together and—no, TJ, listen to meright now. Don't make this difficult. Just do what I'm telling you—oh, my God,TJ! I don't have the strength for this! Just get your shit together!” On ourway back toward the door, she stopped and squeezed her eyes shut, as shegroaned and shouted, “Goddammit, TJ! I can't, I can't deal with this bullshitright now! Can you please just do what I'm fucking telling you to do? Please!”
Then,she hung up and angrily thrust her phone into her jacket pocket. She looked tome, apology and pain written in her eyes. “Do yourself a favor and don't havekids,” she said, mustering a laugh and a smile.
“Highlydoubt they're in the cards for me at this point,” I muttered, pulling the doorshut behind me and locking it. Then, I turned to her and said, “I'mgonnacome back later and check things out some more. Butyou won't ever come back into this room.”
“Whynot?” she asked, quiet and timid, as her hands picked aggressively at herfingernail polish.
Iwas a bastard for involving her in this. She never should've been allowed tocome, and I never should've asked for her help in moving the body. I shouldn’thave used her the way I had, in lieu of the help from my team, and I was anarsehole for all of it. I wanted to make up for it by solving the case andfinding her sister's murderer. I just hoped that would be enough.
“Becauseye'rebein' targeted,” I told her point blank. “AndI'm scared that, if ye came back, there would be more for ye to find.”
“Whywould they target me at all, if they just want this to look like an accident?”she asked, shaking herheadand narrowing her eyes.“It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
Shehas a point. Why? Why would the bastard do that? Why would they make anybody questionanything, ifthey just wanted it to be dropped?
“Because…” I stared unblinking down the hallway, as the gears inside my head turnedtirelessly. “Theydidnaewant anybodyquestionin’ … they didn’t expect it …” I turned to her, asthe pieces clicked slowly into place. “And both of us did.”
Rosieswallowed and looked back to the door. “So, you think they’re warning me? Toshut me up?”
“Ido,” I replied, nodding slowly. “And I think theywannashut me up, too.”
***
“Whothe hell are you?” TJ asked me, the moment his mother opened the door of theirhotel room.
Hewas a scraggly thing with awimpy-lookingmohawk thatany self-respecting punk would've scoffed at, and he was doing his damnedest toinsult me. He wanted to shake me and scare me away from spending time with hismother, as if I was a suitor looking for her hand. But I wasn't afraid of him.If anything, I just felt a great deal of pity for him, seeing the hurt andworry behind his angry gaze, and I wasn't going to crumble beneath the weightof his pain.
“InspectorAlec Brodie,” I introduced myself, pulling out my badge for him. He studied itclosely, as if it could be a fake, but he wouldn't accept it from me. “Ye cantake it,” I told him, urging him to look as close and long as he'd like.
“No,it's okay,” he muttered, slinking away as quickly as he came. “I believe you.”
“Good,”I said, putting the badge away. “It'd be a shite job to pretend to have.”
Rosiehurried around the room, throwing his things into an open bag. “Didn't I tell youto get your stuff together?” she asked breathlessly. “TJ, we need to go.”
“Yedon’t have to worry,” I told her gently. “I'mguardin'the door. Nobody'scomin' in withoutgettin' through me.”
TJturned to me abruptly, then looked at his mother, eyes instantly wide andbewildered. Scared. “What? What's going on?”
“Wedon't have time to talk about this now,” she answered, thrusting his shoes intohis hands. “Put these on. Hurry. We have to--”
