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“I accused her of being unfeeling.”
Laura winced. “She’s heard worse, I’m sure.”
But not from me. Guilt lodged in his throat, making him swallow hard.
“I’ll have to fix that later. Let’s go talk to the Epsteins.” Because his life was still on the line, regardless of what a good person McKittrick was.
“Okay,” Laura said quietly.
They walked to the Epsteins’ front door in silence, Sam trying to get control of his racing heart. He’d apologize to McKittrick later. That was all he could do. Now he had to concentrate.
He’d rehearsed what he planned to say, how he’d explain his interest in Colton Driscoll, but his words disappeared like mist in the sun when the door opened. A teenage girl stood there, her face so pale that Sam worried she’d faint.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked.
The girl gulped audibly. “Yes. I’m fine. Who are you?”
“My name is Sam Reeves. I’m investigating Colton Driscoll. I was hoping to talk to your father.”
“He isn’t here. He’s still at work.” She went even paler. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
Sam smiled, hoping to put her at ease. She clutched the door so hard that her knuckles were white. “It’s okay. I’m only here to ask questions. What about your mom? Is she home?”
The girl hesitated. “Yeah. Mom!” she called over her shoulder. “More cops.”
“I’m not a cop,” Sam hastened to say. “Just a psychologist.”
The girl blinked. “Not a cop?”
And she relaxed. Visibly. Laura had noticed as well, her expression going cautiously curious.
“Not a cop,” Sam confirmed.
“What about her?”
“I’m a defense attorney,” Laura said. She gave the girl a card.
“Huh.” The girl looked up. “You can have anything printed on a card, though.”
Laura’s lips twitched. “You can, but I didn’t. You can google me.”
“Maureen?” An older woman came to the door, holding a toddler. Gemma Epstein, David’s wife. She blinked when she saw Sam and Laura. “You’re not McKittrick.”
That McKittrick had already been here was no surprise.
“No, ma’am,” Sam said respectfully.
“He’s a shrink named Reeves and she’s a lawyer named Letterman,” Maureen supplied.
Sam had to keep himself from wincing at the disparaging look that crossed the teenager’s face when she said shrink. “Mrs.Epstein, do you have a few minutes to answer some questions about Colton Driscoll?”
Gemma’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Because I’m researching serial killers. That was what he’d planned to say. But he didn’t. “He hurt people I care about.”
This was true. Colton hadn’t killed Skyler, but his partner had.
Sam had never met Jaelyn Watts, Cecilia Sheppard, or Naomi Beckham. But he still cared about them.
