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Jake and Fiona exchanged a look. Jake swallowed and said, "We have reason to believe Craig's death was no accident."
Mel's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean? Who would want to kill him?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Jake said. "We're investigating a series of murders that seem to be connected, and Craig's death fits the pattern. We need to know if there's anything you can tell us that might help."
Mel shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know anything," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "All I know is that he was a terrible husband and a worse father. I'm sorry I can't be more help."
"It's alright," Fiona said, her hand reaching out to touch Mel's arm. "We understand this must be difficult for you."
Jake nodded in agreement. "Thank you for your time, Mel. If anything comes to mind, please don't hesitate to contact us."
As they left Mel's home, Jake felt a sense of disappointment. He had hoped to find some connection between Craig and Carrie, but it seemed that was a dead end. He glanced at Fiona, her expression thoughtful. "What do you think?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," Fiona said. "I don't think we'll have an idea until we can link him to Carrie. If it's even possible."
Jake nodded in agreement. Connecting the two victims had to be their top priority. "Then let's go talk to her roommate."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fiona held her breath as she and Jake pulled up to the curb outside the apartment building Carrie had lived in, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the crumbling brick façade. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and stale garbage – a far cry from the sterile atmosphere of their FBI office.
"Ready?" Jake asked, his voice low and tense, as he adjusted his tie in the rearview mirror.
"Let's do this," Fiona replied, her jaw set with determination.
They climbed the cracked concrete steps towards the apartment building.
Fiona took a deep breath, trying to push away the nagging feeling that she was being watched. She glanced at the neighboring apartments but found no prying eyes or suspicious characters lurking in the shadows. Shaking off the unease, she refocused on the task at hand. They went inside the building, which was hot and dank from the summer air. A low-income building and much different from the neighborhood that Craig's ex-wife had lived in. It added more uncertainty to the connection between the victims, but Fiona pushed onward.
As they reached the door of Apartment 3B, Jake hesitated for a moment.
Fiona could feel his uncertainty, his hand hovering near the doorknob before he finally mustered the resolve to knock. The sound echoed through the small hallway, and after a few moments, the door creaked open to reveal a young woman with a mess of curly blonde hair and a defensive posture. This must have been Carrie's roommate.
"Can I help you?" the girl said, eyeing them suspiciously.
"Are you Stacy?" Fiona asked, her tone gentle.
The girl nodded, still looking wary. "Who are you guys?"
Jake flashed his badge. "Agent Jake Tucker, FBI. This is Fiona Red. We wanted to talk to you about Carrie?"
Stacy's eyes instantly glassed over. "Oh, God... what happened to her is just awful... I still can't believe it."
"Is it alright if we come in and chat with you about her?" Fiona asked gently.
Stacy hesitated for a moment before stepping back and opening the door wider. "Of course, please come in."
As they entered the apartment, Fiona took in the details of the décor: delicate floral patterns adorned the walls, and plush throw pillows in various shades of pink and lavender were scattered on the couch. A collection of scented candles sat atop a glass coffee table, their flickering flames casting a warm, inviting glow over the room. Despite the circumstances, there was an unmistakable air of femininity and comfort within the space. Fiona's gaze wandered over the collection of framed photos that lined the apartment walls, each one capturing a happy memory between Carrie and Stacy.
"Please, have a seat," Stacy offered, gesturing towards the couch.
"Thank you," Fiona replied, settling into the cushions while Jake took a seat beside her. As Fiona sat on the plush couch, she couldn't help but notice how Stacy's eyes seemed to be constantly searching the room as if seeking solace in her familiar surroundings. She looked lost and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the confident woman in the framed photograph.
"Stacy, we know this must be difficult for you, but anything you can tell us about Carrie will help our investigation," Fiona said, her voice soft yet determined.
"Of course," Stacy murmured, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "I just... I can't believe she's gone."
"Carrie and I were best friends since college," Stacy began, her voice wavering. "We were inseparable, even after graduation. When we found this apartment, it was like our own little sanctuary." Her gaze settled on a collection of photographs that adorned the wall, each one capturing a cherished memory of their friendship.
