AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Harris stood and looked at the bookshelves. They were a mess. Each shelf was double stacked, with books shoved in wherever there was room. Little knickknacks were hidden here and there, including a crocheted banker. Harris wondered if Robert’s wife had made it herself. She walked around the desk to take a closer look at the tomes he’d put on display. What did Robert Sherman like reading?
It turned out he was a fan of everything. From books on investing and the stock market, to Paradise Lost and Of Mice and Men. He even had the Harry Potter series and The Hunger Games. Harris wondered if this was the family library, or if Robert was really that eclectic of a reader.
Not that it mattered. The answer wouldn’t help her find what she was looking for.
Harris turned back to the desk, certain she had missed something. She stopped dead when she spotted the book she’d knocked over earlier. It was the only one that hadn’t been shoved onto the shelf with the others.
Stooping to pick it up, she wondered what significance it could have. When she flipped it over, it took her a second to take in the title. Moby Dick. Her least favorite book in the entire world. She had been forced to read every excruciating page in high school. Talk about bad memories.
She almost tossed it aside in disgust.
Then she thought better of it. Harris allowed the little hardcover to flip open to a random page in her palm. Inside, there was a picture and a stack of receipts. Her heart thumped, and she drew the book closer to get a better look.
The picture was an old polaroid from the eighties, colored sepia from age. The two young men were barely adults, with wispy mustaches and shorts that showed off their scrawny thighs. They had their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, each holding up a can of Coke in salute to the photographer. They looked happy.
Underneath was another photo. This one had been printed from a film camera. Someone had coerced the two men into replicating the polaroid. They were older by about ten or fifteen years, and each had a let’s get this over with grin on their face. This time, they held up two beers in salute. It wasn’t hard to tell who it was this time.
On the left, Randall Sherman. He wore a polo shirt and a pair of khakis with his belt tied a little too tight. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, whether from the booze or life tearing him down one day at a time, she couldn’t tell. Either way, she recognized him instantly. The man who had started all of this. The man whose murder she’d witnessed.
On the right was Robert Sherman. He looked a little older than his cousin, but much happier. He wore a dress shirt and slacks. His belt a perfect fit. His grin was wide, like he was hamming it up for the camera. There was laughter in his eyes, and you could tell he was having a great time. Maybe it was the beer or life building him up one day at a time.
Harris looked up, not seeing the room around her, but lost in thought. Robert had two pictures of him and his cousin tucked away in a book, presumably where no one—including his wife—could find them. Was Randall the dirty little secret of the family? If so, it looked like Robert hadn’t forgotten the good times they’d spent together. And if he was holding onto these memories, Rose might’ve felt comfortable reaching out to Robert if she was in trouble.
Harris looked back down at the book and pulled the pictures and the stack of receipts out, making sure nothing else was inside before tossing it back on top of the desk. She slipped the photos into her pocket, and then unfolded the receipts. Her heart played a staccato rhythm as they painted a clear picture for her.
The first one was for a restaurant at the Hyatt in downtown Chicago. There were two meals listed—spaghetti and meatballs and chicken marsala. One glass of wine and a water. The total was far more expensive than she would’ve guessed, and it was paid for with Robert’s credit card. A staple in the top right corner had her flipping over the receipt and taking note of the parking validation on the back. Same hotel. The time stamp told her Robert had been there two days prior. Is this where he was now? Had he really forgotten his kid’s play?
The other receipt was for the grocery store. There were only a few items, like bread, deli meats, some fruits, and a couple of snacks. Exactly what someone would need if they were holing up in their hotel room for a few days, not wanting to risk going out to eat or being disturbed by the staff.
The last receipt was from CVS. It was miles long, filled with coupons, but there was only one item listed at the top. Pre-natal vitamins.
Unless the wife was hiding a baby bump for her second kid, this had to be for Rose Sherman.
And Harris now knew where she was staying.
Harris burst from the room, catching Cassie and the other woman mid-conversation. Cassie glowered at her, like Harris had interrupted something important, but what Harris had found couldn’t wait. She motioned Cassie toward the door. “We need to go.”
The wife stood, wringing her hands in front of her. “What is it? What’s wrong? Bob—”
Harris pinned the woman with her gaze. They didn’t have time to explain if they wanted to catch up with Robert and Rose, but she didn’t want Robert’s wife calling the cops, either. They would just get in the way. “I think I know where your husband is. But we need to leave now. As soon as we find him, we’ll have him call you, okay?”
The woman looked to Cassie, who put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You can trust her.”
The wife looked scared and lost and confused, but she pursed her lips and nodded. “Please hurry.”
Harris didn’t need any more permission than that. Without saying another word, she crossed the room and yanked the front door open, stalking back toward the rental. She heard Cassie scrambling to keep up, but it was a distant sound. Too many possibilities filled her head.
Whether she wanted them or not, the answers she desperately needed were now within
reach.
25
Cassie had to scramble out of the car to keep up with Harris. By the time she caught up, she was out of breath. “Where’s the fire?”
“We’re close to something. I can feel it.” The detective pushed through the revolving door of the Hyatt. She had to wait for Cassie to catch up. “The wife knows something. I know she does.”
As soon as Harris had produced the receipts for the hotel, they had wasted no time. Cassie hadn’t even had a chance to tell her everything she had learned from Melissa Sherman. And they had no plan. Which usually didn’t bode well.
