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Chief Conway was still standing behind his table, but his curious gaze must have remained on her the entire time. She lifted the right corner of her mouth, but he didn’t seem inclined on returning her half-smile. Her heartbeat stuttered, and perspiration broke out on the palms of her hands.
Did the chief suspect that she had information regarding Pamela Murray’s murder?
Could he sense that she was withholding information?
Again, Brook couldn’t help but wonder what kind of sister believed that her brother was capable of murder. She would never turn on Jacob without first having irrefutable evidence of his guilt. She just hoped that she hadn’t given the chief any reason to go looking into her family or friends.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she lifted her hand as a way to express her appreciation.
Chief Conway didn’t return the gesture. His focus seemed to be on something or someone behind her. She turned, fully expecting Sally to be standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips. Brook should have asked the chief what it meant when someone was constantly standing in such a manner, but any thoughts regarding body language instantly vanished at the sight of her brother.
“Hello, Brooklyn. It’s been a while.”
Chapter Two
Brooklyn Sloane
February 2023
Monday — 10:02am
Thewomanstandinginthe full-length mirror appeared composed, confident, and gave no indication that she’d spent the past week as a grieving daughter. Her makeup had been impeccably applied, her long black hair had been gracefully swept over her left shoulder, and there wasn’t a spot of lint on her black pantsuit. No one would be able to detect the ongoing internal struggle to cope with failure.
Brook closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She then counted to ten before turning away from her reflection. She might not have found her center, but she was more balanced than before.
She’d become somewhat of an expert at compartmentalizing her emotions. Being the sister of a psychopathic serial killer had forced her to discover many ingenious ways to cope with what life had handed her over the years. The death of her father shouldn’t have caused her to stumble in her routine. He’d suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease, so it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been prepared for the inevitable outcome. The problem rested with the fact that she hadn’t been able to keep the promise that she’d made to her father—to hunt down her brother and make certain that he couldn’t take another innocent life.
She’d failed, and there was nothing to soften the blow regarding that realization.
Her flight from Peoria into Dulles International Airport had been delayed a day due to inclement weather. She should have arrived home last night, but the extra time had afforded her the ability to check on Mr. and Mrs. Pearson.
Not that Brook had spoken to them in person.
She’d simply observed them from afar to ensure that they were getting by as best they could all these years after the loss of their daughter. As usual, the graphic and horrifying image of Sally’s bloody remains flashed through Brook’s mind.
As she slipped her feet into her black high heels, she found herself longing for the days that she’d worked for the FBI. The profiles that she’d drafted as a consultant for the Bureau could have been compared to that of a cookie cutter system. Granted, there had been a handful of cases that had proved challenging in those days, but the mundane day-to-day job responsibilities had afforded Brook to run on automatic the majority of the time.
Owning half of a private investigation firm didn’t give her that luxury anymore.
She needed to be proactive in her pursuit of a successful caseload. Any defeat was a glaring example of the difficulty it was to put herself in the mindset of a killer.
The sound of her cell phone chiming from the dining room forced Brook to leave her bedroom. While her mornings usually started around five o’clock, she was doing her best to carry through with her normal routine. Her condo had an open layout, with the exception of her bedroom and the main bathroom, so it was a relatively easy regimen.
She walked past the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking downtown D.C. and through her living room to check the kitchen. She made certain that she’d rinsed out her coffee mug and placed inside the dishwasher. Retracing her steps, she didn’t stop until she was in front of the dining room table. A quick glance ensured that she’d properly shutdown her laptop, and she was finally able to focus on the large wall in front of her.
The wall that she’d turned into a murder board close to nine years ago.
Photographs of victims, numerous timelines, and multiple theories related to her brother’s case had been connected by different colored threads.
Brook stared at the information for a full minute before reaching for her phone that she’d set down on the huge collection of files that were currently spread out on her dining room table. She’d spent the weekend in Morton, Illinois to bury her father in a small, private ceremony. A weekend that could have been better spent working on her brother’s case.
She didn’t bother to look at the display on her phone. Once she reached her office, she would then return any calls that she’d missed over the past three days. Until then, she was giving herself the walk from the building that housed her condo to the offices of S&E Investigations, Inc. to pull herself together.
It wouldn’t do for the team to believe that she had been emotionally weakened by her personal tragedy.
By the time that she’d made it to the lobby, she’d managed to fasten the middle button of her black dress coat and put on her matching leather gloves. The straps of her leather bag that she used as a briefcase and her purse were securely on her shoulder. With each task completed, she was feeling more and more like herself.
Brook lifted a hand in greeting when she spotted Charlie McPherson, the dayshift attendant of the building, speaking with a florist. She was relieved that he didn’t have time to make small talk, and she quickened her step to make sure it stayed that way. While Charlie was a kind gentleman who took it upon himself to make sure that the residents were happy and content, she really didn’t see a need to explain where she’d been this past weekend.
