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“Is someone out there imitating that novel?” Donnelly asked.
Trent took a deep breath. “We might have been too fast to rule out a serial killer.”
Amanda’s mind was spinning with a hypothetical fear. Would there be more victims before this was all over, or was the scene only set to make them think copycat? Luis Navarro had pointed them to deranged fans. Was that an honest suggestion, or did he know more about Felicity’s murder than he let on? Amanda hoped like hell if someone was copying the murderer from Felicity Kelley’s book, it would stop with her death. But why kill the author herself?
Trent met her eyes, putting voice to her concern. “Are we going to have more dead bodies?”
“Let’s just hope it’s a tool the killer is using to throw off the investigation.”
“Luis Navarro,” Trent said. “He has motive. A rejected proposal, being cut off just when Felicity was in for a huge pay day.”
“Acid to the wound,” Amanda agreed. Luis Navarro topped the suspect list so far.
“Do we go pick him up? Push him more?” Trent asked.
She considered but ended up shaking her head. “Nothing has really changed since we last had this conversation. We need something more substantial against him.”
“I think we have enough,” Trent countered. “Felicity’s rejection angered him, he decided to kill her and hide behind the ruse of a copycat. For the cherry on top, he points us to deranged fans.”
“All conjecture. We can’t put Navarro with Felicity within the time of her death.”
“He doesn’t have an alibi.”
“Again, we need more than that. Which you know. And what reason would he have to burn her manuscripts?”
“To spite her for turning on him?” Trent hitched his shoulders. “He’d probably take sick pleasure in making her watch him destroy her work, or something similar happens in the book too. We need to get a copy and start reading.”
“Or get the highlights from the publisher when we sit with them,” she volleyed.
“Or that. Which is probably quicker.” Trent’s gaze drifted to take in the room. “Let’s say the killer was trying to set up the scene to mimic the book—including the burned paperwork—did the one from Felicity’s novel also run off with their victim’s coffee table and rug?”
“What’s that?” Blair asked, her brow furled.
Amanda walked to the section of discolored floorboards and drew her finger over the area. “There used to be a long rectangular coffee table right here. And it sat on top of an area rug.”
“I’ll play along. Where are they now?” Blair asked.
“A good question, but the better one is, why would the killer take them?” Trent paced a few steps.
Amanda considered his question, and an epiphany struck. “It must be about setting the scene. They likely didn’t fit with what he was trying to create.”
“We need to consider everything we see isn’t giving us a clear picture of what took place.” Trent stuffed his phone back into a pocket. “And if this isn’t a serial killer, why did he imitate Felicity’s work?”
There was no point in even taking a stab at answering that question yet, but she did hope Felicity Kelley’s murder was an isolated incident and the method was just to muddy the investigation. Again, her mind returned to Luis Navarro. He had been rather quick to bring up deranged fans. She still held fast to what she’d told Trent though. While he deserved a more scrutinizing look, they needed more to justify bringing him in. She based that on knowing Malone would tell her just that. After all, Felicity’s work was public, and a copycat could essentially be anyone.
“I have an alternate theory on the missing table and rug,” Blair said as she grabbed a spray bottle.
Donnelly closed the curtains and flicked off the lights.
Blair sprayed the liquid on the floor in front of the couch. Donnelly pulled an ultraviolet flashlight out of a pocket and shone the beam over the area.
The results were as enlightening as they were devastating. Blood stained the floor from one end of the couch to the other. The trail revealed the killer must have flipped the rug back and pushed the coffee table out before dragging Felicity to her resting place.
The revelation was sickening. “The killer moved her. To set the scene or for another reason?”
Donnelly snapped photographs of the discovery. When she finished, Blair flipped the lights on and opened the front curtains.
Trent paced like a lion in a cage, left, right, left, right. The entire time his gaze was fixed to the floor. “She went down closer to the doorway. Maybe she was trying to get her visitor to leave. Then there was an altercation…”
