Chapter Three

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Ruby sucked in a hard breath, and her mind began to whirl with all sorts of possibilities. None good.

"It's not Brynn's blood on the wall," Owen said, his voice tight and his expression even tighter. She could see that this was eating him alive. "It's Howie's. And the cops believe the killer used a small paint brush to write the message. The paint brush, or whatever it was, wasn't left at the scene."

Ruby considered that. And more. A whole lot more.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Owen insisted.

Ruby had no doubts that he had reached similar possible scenarios as well. Maybe, though, he just needed to hear them from someone more objective. Except she wasn't really objective, was she? This was Olivia's daughter, the very daughter Ruby had promised to protect.

So, yeah, no objectivity whatsoever.

Still, Ruby did the spelling out. "If Brynn is indeed alive, she's possibly turned killer. A vigilante who's out to avenge the people who had helped Trent. Or didn't help her," she tacked onto that. "Or didn't find her. If that's the case, then you and I might be on her hit list."

A muscle flickered in Owen's jaw, but she knew he wasn't surprised by anything she'd said. Including the part about them being possible targets.

"If Brynn has been held captive all this time," Ruby went on, "the anger inside her could have built and built and built, causing her to snap. Causing her to do that." She motioned toward the photo of the crime scene and then paused. "But that's not the murder scene of someone who's snapped. That looks fairly controlled and organized."

"She's had three years to organize and regain that control," Owen pointed out to her.

Ruby had to agree with him about that. But some people "snapped" in different ways. Some went berserk. Others pinpointed their focus and unleashed that fury on their targets.

"Brynn becoming a vigilante is one scenario," Ruby went on. "But there's a second possibility." And it sucked just as much as the first one. "That Brynn is dead and someone wanted us to believe it was her by planting that strand of hair at the crime scene."

A name immediately came to mind for that, and Owen said that name aloud. "Marlie Simpson."

Ruby had to go with another nod on that. Marlie had been Trent's longtime girlfriend until he'd dumped her for Brynn. And Marlie hadn't taken that well at all. She'd essentially stalked Brynn and turned mean girl to try to get back her guy. That included ugly social media posts about Brynn and doing her damndest to make Brynn's life miserable.

As if Trent wasn't already doing that with his abuse.

"Have you kept tabs on Marlie?" Ruby asked.

"I have. I've kept tabs on all of them," Owen admitted. "Trent's parents, Howie and Brynn's best friend, Alice Trainor. She's a senior in college with a double major in criminal justice and forensic science."

That was a Texas-sized red flag. That means Alice had all kinds of knowledge in manipulating a crime scene.

There was a problem possibility with that though.

"Alice adored Brynn," Ruby said. "Best friends since preschool, and she could have almost certainly come up with a strand of Brynn's hair, what with all the sleepovers they did when they were teenagers. But why would she have wanted to make Brynn look like a killer?"

"Yeah," Owen muttered. "Unless she's killing by proxy. Maybe getting the justice Brynn never got while also not incriminating herself."

That theory could work, and Alice might want to off the people who hadn't found her bestie. Even if those people were Owen and her.

"So, other than Howie and us, who else would be on this killer's hit list?" Ruby threw out there. "Who do we need to warn that they might be a target?"

"Trent's parents for sure," Owen was quick to say. "No proof of it, but I figure they covered his ass plenty of times both before and after Brynn disappeared. And Marlie, of course. Along with Howie and maybe even Trent himself, those are the obvious ones, but there are also the cops who worked the investigation into Brynn's disappearance."

"Detective Aaron McKinney," Ruby provided. She had no trouble recalling his name because she'd had many conversations with him. "He's the cop who pressed to have Brynn declared dead, and eventually, the ME went along with him. That put an end to any official search for Brynn. Brynn or someone killing by proxy for her wouldn't care much for that."

"True. You know about Marlie contacting the detective?" Owen asked.

"I do." And it didn't surprise her that Owen had been aware of it as well. "Marlie made several visits to the police station to talk to him. McKinney wouldn't say what their conversations were about, but I'm guessing Marlie was trying to influence him that Trent wasn't guilty, that both Trent and Brynn were victims because someone had attacked them and then either disposed of their bodies or caused Trent and Brynn to go into hiding."

Owen drank some of his beer, and it was obvious from the way his forehead bunched up that he was about to tell her something she wouldn't like.

"Long-range eavesdropping equipment," he finally said. "I used it on one of the meetings Marlie and McKinney had at a coffee cart outside the police station. Yeah, I know it's not totally legal, but I wanted to find out if McKinney or Marlie was keeping info from me."

Ruby didn't huff, not out loud anyway. "And were they?"

"Not that I could tell from the conversation. Marlie was pushing him for any leads that he might have on Trent's whereabouts, and McKinney told her there was nothing new."

Owen looked at her and seemed to be waiting for her to tell him he'd stepped over one of those legal lines. But she wouldn't. Heck, she'd been tempted to resort to such measures herself. She hadn't, but the truth was, if she had truly thought she could get info that would rescue Brynn, then heaven knew how far she would have gone.

There was a sharp beep that seemed to pulse through the room, and Owen turned back toward the monitor. The crime scene photo vanished, and in its place was what appeared to be the feed from his doorbell camera. Ruby spotted the couple making their way up the flagstone toward the house.

Trent's parents, Francine and Carlton Barber.

Even though they were not people Ruby wanted to see, she should have already realized that they'd come to either Owen or her. After all, they knew Howie and would have heard about his murder. They would have also likely learned about Brynn's hair being found at the scene.

Owen certainly didn't move to go to the door. He stood there, clearly debating if he was even going to see them. It'd already been the evening from hell, and she figured this visit would only add to that.

She watched as the couple approached the door, and unlike Howie, the three years had been kind to the Barbers. Francine still looked ever so much like the wealthy woman that she was in a flowing powder blue pants and top. Carlton, who was the same height as his five-six wife appeared to have been going for an AARP preppie look in his polo shirt and khakis.

Ruby despised them. And she couldn't say that about a whole lot of people. Along with stonewalling the cops, they'd been complete dicks to Owen and her, throwing all the blame for Brynn's disappearance on Brynn herself. In fact, several times, Francine had insisted that Brynn had been the one to attack their son, and she'd gotten hurt in the process.

Parental rose-colored glasses, maybe.

But Ruby preferred to go with the dicks' label.

The doorbell rang, and still Owen didn't move. He downed the rest of his beer, tossed the ice bag on the coffee table, and finally headed to the door. He threw it open as if he'd declared war on it.

"I'm not in the mood for any kind of shit," Owen snarled. He was in the full-throttle Delta Force bad ass mode, and it was an intimidating sight to see. "So, if you've come here to hurl insults and accusations about my niece, you can just leave."

Carlton actually took a step back, but Francine held her ground. "We need answers," she insisted in that grating, snobby voice that was like nails on multiple chalkboards for Ruby.

"I don't have any answers," Owen fired back.

Francine opened her mouth to respond but then stopped when she saw Ruby. "We need to know what you know," the woman said to Ruby, obviously hoping for a better result than she got with Owen.

She wouldn't get one.

They owed this woman nothing. Less than nothing.

"We can do tit for tat," Owen threw out there, and it didn't sound exactly like a courteous offer. More like a dare. A dark, dangerous one. "You tell us how we can access Trent's offshore account so we can find out where he's been funneling payments to support himself while he's hiding out from the law."

Francine's eyes narrowed. "I don't know about that account. It's possible my son is dead. And—"

"Don't you dare spew that nonsense about Brynn attacking him. I already told you I don't want to hear any shit, and if that's all you've come to say, then you've wasted your time and mine."

"It's not," Carlton blurted, moving slightly in front of his wife. Of the two, Ruby could better tolerate him over Francine, but it was hard to tolerate anyone harboring a fugitive. Even when that fugitive was their own son.

"Howie called me last week," Carlton continued a moment later. "And he was worried about Alice Trainor. She'd been pressuring him again to get info about Trent and Brynn. Aggressively pressuring him," he emphasized. "I think Howie was frightened of her."

Interesting. Especially since Alice had that expertise about how to set up a crime scene.

Owen shrugged. "Brynn's been missing for three years. Why would Alice up the pressure now?"

"We don't know, but it's possible she heard from Brynn. Or Trent," Carlton tacked onto that.

"And did you ask her?" Owen snapped.

"She won't talk to us," Francine snapped right back. "Alice considers us the enemy. So, do we have to worry about her killing us like Howie?"

Owen huffed. "Sure. Of course, you do. You stonewalled the cops. You interfered every step of the way in the search for my niece. Alice is probably just as pissed at the two of you as I am. Good luck dealing with the fallout from a situation you helped create."

He seemed ready to shut the door in their faces, but he stopped when there was another beep from his security system. Ruby looked past the Barbers and saw a familiar face.

Hayes Brodie.

He was big and bulky, and he had an expression that wouldn't invite any sane person to mess with him. Hayes was carrying a laptop, and the exterior lights caught the glints of two rings he was wearing. Neither on his actual ring fingers but rather on his pinkies.

Both simple gold wedding bands.

Since he didn't appear to be the sort of make some kind of odd fashion statement, Ruby had to figure they had significant meaning.

Owen stepped back so that Hayes could enter, and then he did shut the door in the Barber's faces. That set Francine off, and she began to spew out some profanity. Ah, that was the woman Ruby had come to know and not love during the course of this hellish investigation.

"What'd they want?" Hayes asked.

"Don't know," Owen replied. "They didn't take me up on my tit for tat offer."

Hayes didn't question about that. He merely set the laptop on the coffee table, opened it, and loaded what Ruby soon realized was a camera feed. Not from Owen's security system. This was from a city neighborhood.

"That's the entrance to Howie's condo complex," Hayes provided in his no-nonsense, all-business tone.

That got Ruby's full attention, and she went closer to the laptop. So did Owen. And they watched as people walked by the limestone sign with the complex's name, Silver Waters. Hayes zoomed in on the foot traffic, but he didn't freeze the frames on any of the faces.

Not until someone actually came out of the complex.

It was a person wearing a dark hoodie and a black high-neck top. Maybe a woman, but it was hard to tell since both the hoodie and the pants were baggy. Added to that, the person's head was down, definitely not looking straight up into the camera.

Hayes froze the image when the figure turned to the left on the sidewalk. Froze and zoomed in. Each click of his keyboard gave them a better and better look at the face.

Until it was clear.

Very clear.

"Hell," Ruby muttered. Owen went with, "Shit."

Because they weren't looking at Alice. Or a stranger.

They were looking at Brynn.

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