???
I arrive at Connor Maddox’s house and check my phone. I have a voicemail from Anthony and a message from Jonesy.
Jonesy:I hope you forgot your pajamas tonight, princess.
I snort. He’s such a goof.
I listen to Anthony’s voicemail as I approach the house, slotting the keys he gave me a few days ago into the lock. It’s an agreement we have as I’ll often return to a crime scene to do a walkthrough. It helps me compartmentalize my thoughts, especially when no one is around to make noise or disturb me. I don’t want to say that a crime scene speaks to me because the scientist in me cringes, but there is something to be said about the energy of a place where terrible things have happened. So many colleagues know what I mean because they’ve felt it too. It’s eerie. Like you shouldn’t be there. But I push down the thought as I reach under the Crime Scene:Do Not Entertape and let myself into the house.
My phone between my shoulder and ear, I listen to Anthony.
“Hey, sorry it took so long, but I got the prison visitor records like you asked. The only people to visit Connor Maddox so far are his girlfriend, the colonel, and Travis Marrs. That was one of the guys from the bar. Looks like he visited three times, twice at the same time as the colonel. Let me know if you need to follow up on anything.”
I put my phone in my pocket. I’m not entirely surprised that the colonel visited the accused. He was rather involved in the case from the start. Maybe he was trying to get more information from Connor. It seems a little strange that he would attend with Travis Marrs, though. Perhaps Jonesy will shed some light on that. He hadn’t mentioned that they worked closely together, but perhaps the colonel enlisted Marrs to help convince Connor to confess.
I make my way through the empty living room. The lone camp chair is in the same space as it was the last time I visited. The carpet needs a good vacuuming, too. My first instinct is to head to the basement. If there were any other bodies, that would surely be the place for them to be concealed.
As I walk through the doorway to the kitchen, I gasp, and a man spins on his heel to face me. He’s tall, with dirty blond hair, short on the sides and long on top. He’s clean-shaven, wearingan old, worn leather jacket, a black T-shirt, and dark jeans. I try not to stare at his hands, but the thick leather gloves are a giant red flag considering he’s walking around the biggest crime scene since Thomas Vale’s house of horrors was dissected.
“Hi there.” He smiles calmly, his straight white teeth glinting.
“Hi...I’m Dr. Murphy,” I say calmly. I linger in the doorway, not wanting to stand too close to him.
“Yes, I’ll admit I’ve seen you on the news.” He grins sheepishly, his eyes dipping down my body in an obvious perusal that I try not to squirm over.
“Can I ask who you are?”
“I’m a friend of Connor’s. He asked me to turn off the water and things like that whilst he’s...well, whilst he’s away.”
I nod slowly, despite my heart thudding against my ribs. “Makes total sense he’d want his home taken care of.”
“Exactly. I’m Travis, by the way.”
“Oh, you’re in the army with Connor?”
“Yes, we’re good friends, actually. I’ve helped him out a few times over the years and vice versa.”
Connor hasn’t mentioned him at all, so I’m surprised he says they’re good friends. One of Connor’s actual friends alluded to the older guys in the bar that night. Travis must be the one.Why else would he be lurking around a crime scene?
“How so?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to look relaxed. In reality, I just want to steady myself. I don’t trust this man.
“Oh, you know, girl problems, things like that. The younger guys look up to me as I’m a little older than them.”
“Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to have helped Connor.” I force out a laugh, lying through my teeth.
His smile doesn’t quite meet his cold, dead eyes. “Yes,the poor thing. Unfortunately, this has been a long time coming for him.”
I make a mental note of that remark. “I’d love to schedule a chat with you, actually. You were one of the witnesses, and as you’ve been on your training exercise, Dr. Jones and I haven’t been able to pin you down for a chat.” In other words, not fucking now. For now, I want to get the hell out of here and away from him until I have the comfort of a steel table between us at the station and Jonesy by my side.
“Ah, yes, Dr. Jones. I’m surprised he’s not here. You two are attached at the hip, aren’t you?”
It’s my turn to give a fake smile now. “Would you be free tomorrow? We can get it done and dusted.”
“Why are you here, Dr. Murphy?” The slick diversion and avoidance of my question have the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Myentire body is screaming at me to get out of the house and to start calling somebody, anybody. Jonesy? What could he do? Perhaps the police would be a better option. He is trespassing after all; even if Connor gave him permission, he can’t just turn up and let himself into an active crime scene.
“I’m meeting Dr. Jones here, actually,” I lie, clenching my fist to stop the shaking. “We’ve come to review some of Connor’s interview in the house where it happened.” He says nothing, leaning back on the counter with the confidence of a man who is in no rush at all. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
A lie that I try to avoid sounding desperate.
