Page 92 of The Shadow Friends

“When did they all get here?”

“Crack of dawn. Got me outta bed with all that banging on the door. Don’t even know who they all are. State police, FBI, maybe the fucking CIA for all I know.” She blew out a cloud of smoke. “Who are you?”

“Chief of police. Town of Purity.”

“Whoop-de-doo. Tell them I want my house back. I gotta get to work in an hour.”

“What’s your job at the hotel?”

“Housekeeping. Started on Thursday, and I’m already regretting it. Seems like everyone’s either quitting or getting murdered. But it comes with a place to stay, so here I am. Only until I find something better.”

Jo regarded the young woman’s scowl and her tattoos and thought: Good luck with that. She stepped inside to find the house in disarray. The sofa cushions had been upended, and half a dozen evidence boxes were lined up against one wall. Only two weeks ago, Jo had sat on that same sofa, sipping tea and asking Andrei about his dead housemate, Karen O’Brien. But that was before the FBI had invaded Jo’s town. Before a case of what looked like Ebola became a national security threat. Jo approached the doorway of what had been Andrei’s bedroom and came face-to-face with Alfond.

“We’re working with the FBI on this,” he said. “This man may be guilty of a double homicide, so this is no longer a local police matter. If you could step outside?”

She looked past him into Andrei’s bedroom, where Agent Minnihan and another federal agent were searching through the dresser drawers. “Minnihan,” she said.

He looked at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Yet another man telling her where she shouldn’t be. Which made her feel like this was exactly where she should be.

“How long has Andrei been gone?” Jo asked.

“Didn’t show up for his six a.m. shift at the restaurant, and he doesn’t answer his phone. The housemate doesn’t think Petrov even came home last night.”

“He could’ve had a bike accident. Maybe he’s lying hurt somewhere. Maybe he needs help.”

“Come on, Thibodeau,” said Alfond, lurking behind her. “Give them room to work.”

“And he left all his stuff behind,” said Jo, scanning the room. She saw a sweater draped over the chair, a toilet case on the dresser. “Did he even take his toothbrush?” She looked at Agent Minnihan, who gave a noncommittal shrug. “It doesn’t look like he planned this departure.”

“The man took off,” said Alfond. “That smells like guilty to me.”

“To me, it says scared. You people freaked him out. That’s why he ran.”

“Then why don’t you go out there and look for him? By now, he’s probably made it across the border to Canada.”

She watched Minnihan and his colleague empty the dresser drawers, spilling underwear and socks onto the bed. They picked minutely through every item, as if one of those balled-up socks might hide some precious nugget of evidence. To them, she was no more than a fly buzzing in their ear. Not worth listening to.

She walked out of the cottage. The spiky-haired young woman was still sitting on the porch steps, blowing out smoke rings. Very impressive smoke rings.

Jo sat down beside the woman. “I’ve got a few questions.”

“Already answered ’em.”

“Not my questions. What’s your name?”

A smoke ring puffed out and hung in the air for a few seconds before dissipating. “Keely Kern.”

“Where are you from?”

“Appleton.” Keely squinted up at the sky. “I’d still be there, but I got in a fight with my mom’s asshole boyfriend and she kicked me out. Only reason I took this job.”

“Did Andrei tell you where he was going?”

“I knew him, like, three days, and we hardly got a chance to talk to each other. We work different hours, different parts of the hotel. I clean toilets, and he gets to work in the dining room and troll for tips. That hardly seems right. I mean, he’s the foreigner.” Keely took a last puff and tossed her cigarette on the walkway. “I’d like to work in the dining room.”

“Do you have any idea where Andrei went?”