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She pulled it out of the magazine holder that housed only a few files, but based on the telltale bulge of the thick cardboard, there had been much more here.
She sat on the couch and took the remaining files out.
The first was the crime scene report for Chase’s murder. She didn’t look at it—she’d read it before, far too many times, and didn’t want the deep sorrow that went with reading. The memories were already almost too much to bear.
The next file was Adam Hannigan’s murder investigation. She had read it before, but maybe she’d see something new. She put it aside to review. He also had a file on Peter Grey—his rap sheet, but no notes from his recent conversation.
One file was empty—though clearly a thick stack of paper had once been enclosed. It was labeled FRANKLIN ARCHER.
The name caught her by surprise.
Archer was Grant’s partner at the law firm. His father had started the firm more than forty years ago, but Franklin took it over fifteen years ago around the same time Grant had started working there as a junior partner. She knew Franklin well, he and Grant had been friends as well as colleagues.
Why the hell did Tommy have a file on Grant’s partner? And where was the information now? Had it also been taken by the killer?
She opened one last file so thin she expected it to be empty; inside was a lone photo. Mike Hannigan and Becca Johns. It had been downloaded from the internet, looked like it had been printed from social media. No date, no location, no indication where it had come from. Written on the bottom was the nameJenna-sisterand a phone number. Under that:Ask what Jenna knows about Hannigan.
Her head pounded as she struggled to put together all the confusing pieces.
Her ex-husband Grant had been talking to Tommy. He must have answers.
She would talk to him first thing tomorrow.
WEDNESDAY
Nine
Regan planned to catch Grant at his townhouse before he went to work, so she was in the car by 7:15 a.m.—fifteen minutes later than she’d wanted, but she was dragging after so little sleep.
Before leaving Tommy’s house, she looked out windows in every direction to ensure that no one was watching the house. Most of the lots were between one and two acres, and several people had horses, including the neighbors to the rear.
Once she was confident that no one was outside, she set the alarm system and left.
While driving toward the main road, she checked for a tail or anyone suspicious. A couple kids were walking together to the bus stop; a mom was fast-walking a double-wide stroller. All good. Yet, she kept feeling like the other shoe was going to drop.
Regan dreaded Northern Virginia commuter traffic, which seemed to start earlier in the morning and last later in the evenings as time marched on. She always forgot how bad it was until she was in the middle of a slow-moving caravan. She kept the local news on low, paying half attention to the traffic and weather reports. When a call from Charlie came at 7:35, she muted the radio.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said. “I know you’re still on Arizona time.”
“I’m already on the road.”
“The FBI are holding on to all of Tommy’s personal effects as evidence. I double-checked, however—and they don’t have his laptop or any papers. All they have are his wallet, service weapon, backup weapon, the to-go coffee mug he’d been carrying, and his clothing.”
“His laptop isn’t at the house. I went through everything in his office and there are some rough notes, but nothing he would present to you.”
“The killer could have taken everything,” Charlie said.
Which confirmed her belief that Tommy was killed because of his investigation into Chase’s murder.
Charlie continued. “I’m going to let O’Dare know, keep her in the loop, but I don’t think she’s interested in our theory.”
She didn’t comment on that; she had nothing nice to say. Instead, she said, “I have another favor?”
She said it as a question because she knew Charlie was already overextended. She didn’t want to put too much on his plate.
“Okay, but it might have to wait. I’m on court detail this morning, won’t be out until noon.”
“How fun,” she said dryly.
