This might be the last time he saw Widow ... that would be the hardest part of all.
No one else had ever understood him the way Widow did.
Chapter Forty-Six
The Mill Village
3021 Appleton Street, 7:30 p.m.
CJ scanned the living room ceiling again. She’d done this about ten times already. She’d pulled the kitchen table in here and stood on it to inspect the light fixture in case Shelley had gotten more high-tech equipment. She’d checked the smoke detector.
Nothing.
Dammit.
There had to be something.
She bounded up the stairs again and checked the floor over the living room. Nothing, except a small section of wood floor that had once been removed and then put back into place to add the wiring for the living room light. She’d taken the crowbar and pulled those boards up. Nothing but coal dust and the wiring for the light fixture.
Slowly, inch by inch, foot by foot, she checked the floor of what had once been her parents’ bedroom.
This was ridiculous. She had to hurry. When Braddock got out of that meeting with the chief, he would come looking for her. He’d told her to stay put at the precinct, but she couldn’t. She had to know if there was another piece of equipment in this house that used a remote.
Jenkins had followed her here. He’d probably already informed Braddock what she was up to. Time was likely shorter than she knew.
She trudged back downstairs. Checked the doors again, since dusk was falling. Front and back were locked. She’d shoved a piece of furniture in front of each to give her warning if anyone tried to force their way in.
Cost had probably been released by now. Tyrone, to her knowledge, had not been found. He was wanted for questioning. Braddock told her that Tyrone had his sources within HPD. Someone had no doubt given him a heads-up hours ago.
As bad as she felt for Juanita, CJ couldn’t help regretting that she hadn’t been able to go through with her meeting with Tyrone. She’d called his cell half a dozen times. The idea of going over to his house had even crossed her mind. But he wasn’t a fool; he wouldn’t be there. The King was no doubt in hiding. But if this was ever going to be over, CJ needed whatever information he had.
She dropped on the sofa and heaved a disgusted sigh. She was getting nowhere here.
Cost’s attorney had scheduled a polygraph to back up her client’s statement. CJ didn’t need a polygraph to know Cost hadn’t killed anyone. Carter didn’t have it in him. Of course, drug abuse could make a person do things he or she wouldn’t ordinarily do. Still, she couldn’t get right with that scenario.
Tyrone was her prime suspect. He would kill his own mother if she got in his way. The whole E. Noon / No One theory was in all probability his way of casting doubt on his guilt. To the powers that be, killing on the west side of the Parkway was one thing. But to kill a member of the medical community was another. Juanita’s murder would receive far more media attention.
But why had he killed her? All her collected evidence so far had nothing to do with Tyrone and everything to do with Cost. Maybe, considering he’d known about Carter and Shelley, Tyrone had intended to make Cost look like the killer all along. Braddock had suggested thatscenario. Cooper wasn’t buying it. She felt there was something more going on. Something that hadn’t been revealed just yet.
Braddock just wanted it to be Tyrone.
Maybe CJ did too.
Two more weeks and she had to be back in Baltimore. Shelley’s memorial service needed to be arranged. It would seriously help if people would stop dying.
A rap on the door jerked her attention in that direction. She pushed up, walked soundlessly to the window to see who was at the door. No one knew she was here. She’d hidden her rental in the alley.
Edward.
Relief sagged her shoulders. She really did need to get a handle on her nerves. She was a mess.
She pushed the chair out of the way and opened the door. “Edward, how did you know I was here?” He stood on her porch looking regal as ever and sporting a brown shopping bag, the kind with handles.
“Certainly not because you’re answering your cell phone,” he chastised gently.
She patted her pockets. Where was her phone? “I’m sorry. It’s around here somewhere. Probably still on silent.” She’d had to silence it at the precinct. “Come in.” She ushered him inside. “What’s in the bag?”
“Dinner.” He turned the bag so she could see the restaurant logo. “Since you forget to eat far too often, I felt confident that it was a safe wager you hadn’t eaten this evening.”
