"We don't hope, we do," Flynn said with a smile. "See you tomorrow, Matt. Oh, and don't bother to wear a suit. We prefer to operate less obtrusively. We find the suit sometimes puts an unneeded barrier between ourselves and a potential witness."
He was fine with changing things up. What he had been doing had not gotten him the results he wanted.
As he made his way back to his car, his mind raced with questions centering on two women: the one who'd run away, and the one who'd died after trying to reach him. That personal connection made the case more important to him. He'd worked homicides before, but this woman had wanted to talk to him, and he needed to know why.
ChapterTwo
Haley didn't sleep all night and after tossing and turning for hours, she got up at six on Friday morning, made herself a pot of coffee, and jumped onto her computer. To find the answers to her questions about Sabrina Lin, she did what she always did: she researched.
Now, three hours later, she was sitting at her small dining room table in her fourth-floor Santa Monica apartment. The dining room table, which doubled as her desk since her one-bedroom apartment wasn't big enough for a real office, overlooked the alley behind the building and the back of another apartment complex. There was no beach view, no palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze, just dumpsters and fire escapes and the occasional stray cat. But the rent was cheap, and it was hers. After a chaotic childhood, having her own space mattered more than the view.
As she sipped her third mug of coffee, her gaze swept the table, where she'd compiled notes and printouts on Sabrina Lin and had dug out the dusty box of files she'd put together after her brother's death. She'd known there had to be a connection between Sabrina and her brother, and she'd finally found one.
Sabrina Lin was thirty years old and originally from San Francisco. She had attended UC Berkeley for undergrad, then Westbridge University Law School, the same school that Landon had attended. Sabrina had graduated from Westbridge Law five years ago, and Landon had died six years ago, which meant she'd been in her final year of law school when Landon died. It seemed unlikely they would have known each other, because Sabrina would have been four years older than Landon and probably not a part of the undergrad fraternity party scene. But it was a link she couldn't ignore.
As her gaze moved to Sabrina's phone, she picked it up once more, still staring at the lock screen and the final message Sabrina had gotten. She'd tried everything she could think of to unlock the phone: common number combinations, birthdates she'd found in her research, even the date of Landon's death. Nothing worked. The phone remained stubbornly locked, keeping its secrets and reminding her she never should have taken it. It had been an impulsive decision, and she didn't really regret it; she just wished she could get into it. She'd made friends with a hacker several years ago while working on a story; maybe she could get him to open it for her.
As three sharp knocks suddenly came at her door, she dropped the phone with a clatter, her head swinging toward the door. It was nine in the morning, and no one ever just stopped by.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time. A stern male voice followed…
"Ms. Kenton? FBI. I need to speak with you."
Her blood turned to ice.
FBI?Why would the FBI want to talk to her?Had they connected her to Sabrina's death?
Her stomach flipped over, and a wave of panicked nausea ran through her.
"Ms. Kenton, I know you're in there," the man continued. "Your car is in the parking garage. I need to ask you a few questions."
She got to her feet and grabbed Sabrina's phone. If he saw it, if he knew she'd taken it from the crime scene, she might never see what evidence might be inside. She took it into the adjacent kitchen and shoved it in a drawer as the impatient FBI agent knocked again.
Then she walked to the door. Through the peephole, she saw a tall, brown-haired, broad-shouldered man wearing black jeans and a dark sports coat over a button-down shirt. His hair was wavy and mussed as if he'd been caught in the wind or had run his fingers through the strands more than a few times.
As he glanced directly at the peephole, she found herself looking into piercing brown eyes that seemed like they could see right through her.
"Ms. Kenton…"
She unlocked the door and opened it a few inches, keeping the chain latch engaged.
"Can I see some identification?" she asked.
He pulled a badge from his pocket. "Special Agent Matt Lawson. I need to talk to you about Sabrina Lin."
She tried to keep her expression neutral. "I'm sorry, who?"
"The woman who died in Griffith Park last night. I believe you were there."
Haley's heart pounded against her ribs. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ms. Kenton, we have security camera footage of your car leaving the park around the time of Ms. Lin's death. I believe you also placed a 911 call from a burner phone. We need to talk. Let me in."
She hesitated one more second, but she didn't have a choice. She should have realized there might have been cameras in the parking lot. Unlatching the chain, she opened the door and said, "Come in."
Matt stepped into the apartment and immediately noticed the chaos of someone who clearly lived and breathed their work, with files and papers dominating the small dining room table. After his gaze swept the room, he gave Haley Kenton another long look. She was much prettier in person than in her DMV photo, although it didn't appear her wavy brown hair had seen a brush yet. She wore leggings and an oversized long-sleeve T-shirt, her face devoid of makeup. But her features were stunning: wide-set light-blue eyes, upturned nose, and a full mouth. He cleared his throat, annoyed at the unexpected attraction to a woman who might very well be a murderer.
"I'll get straight to the point," he said sharply. "Why were you at Griffith Park last night?"
