Page 65 of Done Dirty

“A series of text messages were sent starting just after eight o’clock on the night he died. Messages ended at nine-forty.”

“Because she showed up in person,” Jack said.

Margot brought the information on-screen, and I froze.

“Is that who I think it is?” I said.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I woke up to the sound of the Potomac and a dog snoring.

Oscar was at the foot of the bed with his chin on my ankle, his whole body rising and falling in that deep, boneless way dogs sleep. Outside the tall windows the sky was already bright.

On every porch on every street in King George County there would be a flag out this morning. The country’s 250th. The fireworks tonight were supposed to be the biggest they’d ever done. All I could think about was that we were going to catch a murderer today, and I couldn’t necessarily say that I blamed him. But our job wasn’t to give our opinions. It was to collect evidence and make an arrest of who committed the crime, no matter what their reasoning. It was for a jury to figure the rest out.

Jack’s side of the bed was empty, and I could tell he’d been gone awhile. I looked at the clock and saw it was past nine. He’d let me sleep.

I’d slept deeply until dreams of Wade invaded. I’d stood over his body with his skull bashed in and the knife in his groin, and his eyes had opened to look at me. Even in death there’d been a smirk on his face, as if he’d known all along that death would be his fate and was willing to face the consequences with no remorse. It had been a dream filled with lies and sex and deception, all leading to those black eyes staring back at me.

Wade was a man who put himself first. Who made himself the center. It was his pleasure, his wants, his needs, his vanity, and his greed that drove him.

Oscar opened one eye when I moved. He looked at me.

“Not yet,” I told him.

He put his chin back down.

I showered and got dressed in navy wide-legged pants, a red-and-white striped top, and a pair of red Mary Janes that felt like clouds and that I don’t remember buying. Then I went downstairs with Oscar on my heels.

Jack was at the island with his coffee and his laptop in a navy KGSO polo that showed off his biceps and made me want to take a bite out of them.

“You must have slept well if you’re looking at me like that,” he said.

“I slept,” I told him, going straight to the coffeepot. “Weird dreams though.”

I poured a cup and sat across from him. The back windows looked out over the woods, dense and already hot looking even at this hour, the light coming through the canopy in long flat slats. The Potomac was somewhere below the cliff doing what it always did.

“How long have you been up?” I asked.

“Few hours,” he said. “I’ve been digging into the Callums.”

“I’m so pissed about this,” I said. “I hate this case. From every angle. I liked him. He seemed like a standup guy. Excited about a new baby, firefighter, works hard. But then we find out he’s screwing around with Jessica on the side, so maybe it’s not so hard to believe. This is why you can’t trust people. They’re never what they seem.”

“I did too,” Jack said. “Doesn’t make him the killer though. Maybe his wife got in too deep and he helped her clean up the mess.”

“Yeah, I guess so. What have you got on her?”

“Brianna Callum,” he said. “Brianna Dryer Callum, age twenty-nine. King George Proper address, no record, no violations. Graduate of KGU, doctor of veterinary medicine, small animal practice in Newcastle, been there four years. Married to Brett fourteen months.”

He turned the laptop toward me.

“She’s not in the membership roster at Form and Flow. She was never a client. Her initials aren’t in the notebook. She’s not connected to Wade’s professional life in any way we can find.” He looked at me. “Which means we don’t know how they met.”

“You said an initial background check,” I said. “I’m assuming you looked deeper?”

“Not me,” Jack said sheepishly. “You know how Margot is. No boundaries.”

“What’d she find?”