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“Can you tell me why you went to a gym twenty minutes away when you have a home gym? And it’s quite a nice gym, too, if I might add. Nicer than the one we have at the station.” He looked at some of the officers standing there. “It has a treadmill, elliptical, one of those fancy stationary bikes, several weights and weight machines. Everything you could ask for in not just a home gym, but a professional health club. Which is why I find it odd you’d go to a public gym when you have all the convenience of a gym in your own home. So want to tell me where you really were between the hours of five and seven on Friday night?”
Dax parted his lips, sweat beading on his brow. “I—”
At the sound of a commotion from inside the house, we turned our attention toward the open front door as a man in a forensics jacket peeked his head outside.
“I think we’ve got something, Detective. You’re going to want to see this.” He glanced my way before looking back at Walker.
“Don’t let him out of your sight,” Walker instructed one of the uniformed cops, pointing at Dax. Then he gestured to me. “Him, either. If he feels the need to throw any more punches, cuff him.” He gave me a warning look before spinning and hurrying into the house.
“What do you think they found?” Julia asked, eyes awash with tears. “You don’t think it’s—”
“Shh…” I pulled her close, running my hand up and down her back. “Imogene’s fine. I can feel it,” I attempted to reassure her, despite my own fears that they found a body inside.
If they did, I didn’t care what Detective Walker would do to me. I would kill Dax. And it would take a lot more than a couple uniformed officers to pull me off the bastard.
“Lachlan, I swear to you,” Dax’s voice cut through my increasingly morose thoughts. I lifted my penetrating stare to his. “I didn’t take her. I’m not involved in any of this. You have to believe me.”
It took every ounce of resolve I possessed to not storm over there and wrap my hands around his throat. But I wouldn’t. Strangling him was too quick a death. If he were behind this, he deserved a far worse fate than that.
And I would make sure he got what he deserved.
“I don’t have to believe anything right now,” I spat. “All I know is a little girl who is my world is missing and her backpack was found in your bloody car!”
“Like I said, I—”
Before Dax could offer the same excuse he had all evening, Detective Walker strode out of the house carrying a Bankers Box. Agent Curran and Agent Hawkins followed closely behind, grim expressions on their faces.
I pulled Julia closer, unsure what it meant.
Or what was in the box.
Scenes from the movie Seven flashed in my mind. All I could do was hope the outcome here wasn’t the same as in the movie.
“Okay, Mr. Shea. Since you had such an illuminating explanation as to why Imogene Prescott’s backpack was found in your car, let’s put your extraordinary investigative skills to the test again, shall we? How do you explain the fact the forensics team found this in a hollowed-out floorboard in your library? To be clear, they heard a creak and pulled up a board, thinking perhaps that was where you were holding the girl. Imagine my surprise when they showed me this.”
Detective Walker set the box down, then pulled out a file. Julia and I inched closer. I squinted, able to make out the name Autumn Quinn on the tab.
“I’ve got a detailed surveillance report. Photos. Background check. Bank records. Lease agreements.” He whistled as he shook his head. “I’m impressed. It’s all extremely thorough. More thorough than some of the background investigations I ask my team to provide. Incredibly meticulous.” He flipped through the file. “The attention to detail is astounding. It includes everything anyone could possibly want to know about a person.”
“I don’t know where that came from,” Dax declared nervously, but Detective Walker simply ignored him.
“I could perhaps understand why you’d do a background check on Autumn Quinn. After all, you dated her a while back. Correct?”
Dax nodded subtly.
“Considering who your family is, it’s probably best to know what kind of girl you’re getting involved with. Make sure there aren’t any skeletons that could leave a mark on your otherwise upstanding family. But what I can’t understand is why you’d also have background checks on twenty other women. All of whom are now dead, including Claire Hale.”
Dax opened his mouth to argue. But Detective Walker cut him off yet again.
“I know. I know. Maybe you just had a fascination with these women who allegedly committed suicide.”
I arched a brow in Agent Curran’s direction, surprised to hear Detective Walker call their suicides “alleged” when for months, he’d insisted there was nothing alleged about them. Curran didn’t give anything away, though. Instead, he seemed…troubled.
“But do you want to know what I find extremely questionable?”
This time, Dax didn’t even attempt to respond. He simply stared at the ground, resigned.
“Why photos of their dead, naked bodies were included in these background checks. Photos that weren’t taken by crime scene technicians. Including one photo in particular I find quite interesting.”
