“I’m sorry, dear,” the old woman said. “Mr. Tanner took off like a headless chicken this morning. One minute, he’s sitting at the table drinking coffee, and the next he’s stomping through my house with my newspaper. He didn’t take a bite of bacon or wait for his eggs. Who does that?”
“Your newspaper?” Cassie said. “Why the paper?”
“I don’t know. I thought all you young’uns used those cellular things for your news these days. Why else is everyone’s face buried in them all day long?” She pointed at the square across the street. There were a handful of folks sitting on the benches, all of them staring at their phones.
Cassie smiled. “Let him know I came by. Okay?”
“Will do, dear.” The old woman pulled the door shut, but stopped short. “You’re the lady friend he’s spending so much time with, right?”
Cassie looked back and nodded.
“He’s got good taste. You tell him I said that.” She winked before retreating back into her house.
Cassie had wanted Mitch to ride over to the crime scene with her. The dream had left her with more questions than answers, and the only place she might find them was at that house, in Alice’s room. It hadn’t been the first time she’d dreamed of Novak, but it was the first time he’d touched her. The dream was often a harbinger of sorts, though she never knew exactly what for. She could only hope she’d now receive the message she had been waiting for. Only question was, which message was in store for her?
Her focus and energy had been on Mitch last night. He needed her help. Likewise, the case absorbed much of her energy. It had to be related to one of the two. Dragging Mitch to the crime scene was her best option at figuring it out. But since that wasn’t in the plans, she had to move forward.
Cassie walked the half-block to her car, passing the small cafe. She glanced inside and saw two large bookcases full of used books for sale. She made a mental note to return there some day. Might find a good read, or a tortured soul who needed her help. It took a little over ten minutes to reach the girls’ house. She drove past, sweeping the street for any of the onlookers who had tried to accost her with questions. It would be inviting trouble to park in front of the house, so instead she made two rights and pulled to the curb in front of an empty lot on the next block.
No one noticed as she cut between the two houses that backed up to her destination. The grass was wet with dew, shining in the morning sun. The dampness penetrated her shoes. Her toes grew cold. She climbed the chain link fence. Her hand slipped off the slick railing. She came down awkwardly on her right leg and turned her ankle. She stifled a pained yell, gritting her teeth hard.
“Dammit,” she muttered as she rose to her feet, more aggravated at having possibly drawn attention to herself than at the injury. She extended her leg and rolled her foot in a circle. The pain wasn’t blinding. It was only a strain. She limped across the yard as fast as her injury would allow her, sidestepping the screen door the detectives had broken from the hinges. At the back door, she glanced over her shoulder to see if she’d been spotted. Windows remained blank. Curtains didn’t rustle. She was in the clear. In their haste the day before, no one had locked up.
“Easy, peasy,” she muttered as she pulled the door open.
Mindful of the bloodstains, she crossed the floor to the hallway, then continued to the end. The air was still with a hint of fragrance. A visitor? From which realm? She stood outside of Alice’s room, staring through the opening, recounting what had happened the day before.
What if he was in there now?
Impossible. Seth had been taken into custody, and Pennington and Cervantes found enough probable cause in his statements that they had detained him. He’d be locked up for at least forty-eight hours.
She inched into the room, one hand on the wall, the other reaching out, ready to defend herself should something materialize in front of her. It was quiet and empty, and about fifteen degrees warmer than outside. Had it been that hot the previous two visits? The events were so intense in her memory that she could not recall what it had physically felt like in the room.
Cassie sat on the stool in front of Alice’s vanity. There were a dozen or so pictures tucked into the mirror’s frame. Most had Alice in them. Some were of her and her roommates. Her and a few different guys. A family photo from when the girl was fourteen or fifteen. She wore too much makeup to compensate for her youth back then. Her parents were older than Cassie would have expected. If the others in the photo were Alice’s siblings, they had at least ten years on her.
Cassie grabbed a brush off the vanity and clenched it with both hands.
“Talk to me.”