Chapter 25

25

Special Agent Jack Stone

I n the morning, Fallon and I head to Briarwood and go door-to-door looking at any and every security camera footage that the neighbors will allow.

We brought Buddy along and he schmoozes his way into every heart of every person we come across. Most people freeze up when the feds come knocking, but not today. Buddy was treated like a superstar. And as an honorary agent, he's all but earned his cape and his badge.

The manicured lawns and expansive properties exude a quiet affluence. I've always had a beef against neighborhoods like this. Most likely because I didn't grow up in one. The tranquility here seems at odds with the reason for our visit, but that doesn't stop us from doing our best to suss out any traces of evil.

We make digital copies of the footage we managed to procure, rolling the clock back to a twenty-four-hour period. But there doesn't seem to be a single hair out of place. No strangers in the neighborhood, not a single soul approaching Nora's home, or so much as looking crooked at the place.

We meet Nora's helpful next-door neighbor, Connie Pickman, who called in the homicide last night. She's a sweet old lady with a head full of gray curls, a severe case of kyphosis, and a lilt to her voice that she let us know she garnered while growing up in Ireland.

She came bearing doggy biscuits for Buddy, and neither Fallon nor I could deny him.

Connie offers to get the hide-a-key and lets us into Nora's home with ease. We don't protest.

There's no sign of a struggle, which makes sense since the body was found in the garden. Poor thing was laid out among an array of gardening supplies and a basket full of zucchini.

No sign of any theft in the house. The back door is unlocked, but it doesn't look as if anyone came in. If they did, there's not much to prove it.

We head into the backyard and sweep over it as if we lost a diamond. According to CSI, no discernable footprints were found. What I'm guessing was once a grassy area has been filled in with woodchips, and most of those are missing. The yard butts up to the woods, no fencing anywhere in sight.

The three of us walk back around to the front of the house with no more answers than we came with.

We thank Connie for her help and assure her we'll bring Nora's killer to justice.

She wishes us luck, kisses Buddy on the mouth, and waddles back down the street.

That dog just had more action than I've had in months.

Fallon and I stand outside of Nora Archer's immaculate two-story home, glaring at it as if it refused to give up what it knows.

"They came in from the woods," Fallon says, never taking her eyes off the place.

"Agree. They knew the area, they knew her, and whoever they are—I bet they have Lydia."

" Hey ," someone calls out from behind and we turn to find Owen Marcus stomping this way. He's dressed in a flannel and jeans, far more dressed down than he was the other night, and it looks as if he belongs in a frat house. "I heard what happened. It's like we've got a pox on the neighborhood. Rumor has it, she was buried alive in her garden. Is it true?"

Fallon averts her eyes. "That's exactly why you shouldn't believe rumors. It was a brick to the head. Did you see anything suspicious yesterday?" She hitches a brow his way and her face clearly suggests he's the suspicious one.

I'd tell her she needs to work on her poker face, but I'm a little afraid of the woman.

"I was down at the Oasis," he says. "I'm running a two-week promo, still trying to get my brand off the ground."

It doesn't mean much. It's about a twenty-minute drive. He could have gone, come back, killed the woman, and still made it in time for his date with Nikki.

"Have you heard from Special Agent Knight?" I ask. I don't care how intimate the two of them might be, I'm not giving him the privilege to use her first name.

He shakes his head. "Not today."

"How about yesterday?" Fallon shoots him a look that lets him know we're aware of their private meet and greet.

"She showed up at eight, left around ten. I stayed until closing." He shrugs and a marked look of disappointment crosses his face.

"So she left on her own?" Fallon asks.

He nods. "I asked her to stay, but I guess she had enough."

He didn't get lucky. I don't bother hiding my smile.

Good for Nikki for having some standards for once. And I mean once.

"She left around ten?" Fallon blinks at the guy in disbelief.

I know what she's thinking. Nikki should have answered our messages by now.

"Let's get out of here," I say. "Thanks, Owen. I'm sure we'll be speaking again."

We take off for my truck.

"Hey," he shouts. "Ask her to call me."

I hope to heaven she can call anyone.