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“Evidence of sharp force trauma was found in her ribs, indicating she most likely died from a stab wound to her lower right abdomen.”
“Stab wound? Wasn’t Gianna Valealsostabbed in the lower right abdomen?”
“I won’t lie and tell you I didn’t immediately think the same thing when I heard, but as of right now, the authorities are treating them as two isolated events. At least until they can investigate things further.”
“Any idea who’s responsible?” I ask.
“Right now, their lead suspect is Hayes Barlow.”
“Really?” I blink repeatedly, taken aback by this revelation. “What led to that conclusion?”
“Her car was found just a few miles away from a lake house Hayes Barlow owned.”
“Why?” I scrunch my brows, a heaviness settling in the pit of my stomach.
“The working theory is that he was infatuated with her. That—”
“No. Not why he’d kill her. Why would he go through the effort of bringing her disappearance to the public’s attention, even after the police refused to do so, when it could potentially backfire on him?”
My father sighs. “I’m not an expert in these types of things, but according to a forensic psychologist the bureau brought in, he displayed signs of being infatuated with Callie Sloane. Obsessed, really. When she didn’t return his affections, he killed her. In his mind, if he couldn’t have her, no one could. When no one would look into her disappearance, he was probably irritated. He was often ignored as a child, which shaped his need for attention as an adult, both positive and negative. The idea that his crimes weren’t being displayed all over television most likely angered him. So he took matters into his own hands and made sure everyone knew what he’d done, even if he didn’t come right out and confess his involvement.”
I look into the distance, ruminating this theory over in my mind. Itisplausible. But something about it doesn’t sit right with me. It seems too clean.
Too easy.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew, given who Hayes is, and what not.” My father’s voice forces me back to the present.
“Thanks,” I respond, still somewhat in a daze.
“Of course. I’ll see you at AJ’s game.”
“See you then,” I say before ending the call, unable to shake this feeling in my gut there’s more to Callie’s death than the police believe.
But what?
Running a hand over my face, I try to push down my unease so I can get ready for AJ’s game. At least that will be a good distraction. And right now, I can certainly use a distraction.
I trudge up the stairs and am about to slip into my room but stop in my tracks when I glance at the door to Adam’s office and notice it’s slightly ajar.
If it were any other room, I wouldn’t think much of it. But this room is different. This door is always sealed tight, no matter what.
It could be nothing, but I can’t shake the feeling in my gut that something’s not right, especially after my father’s phone call.
And Adam taught me to always listen to my gut.
Lifting my hand to the knob, I take a deep breath, the hair on my nape standing on end. Then I push the door open, my blood spiking when my eyes fall on a figure standing by the windows, his head lowered as he flips through one of Adam’s files.
With all the military precision I’ve been taught throughout my career, I reach into my coat and grab my pistol, aiming it at him.
“You have exactly two seconds to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here before I decorate the walls with your brain.”
My voice echoes in the silence, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring.
“Now!” I yell when he doesn’t move, completely ignoring my presence.
As if he belongs here more than I do.
Finally, he sighs and slowly turns around.
