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No worries. Hope all is well.
After putting her phone back in her purse, she picked up the file folder from the seat beside her, got out, locked her car, and strode toward the front door.
James Wallace pulled it open before she could ring the bell. “I’ve been watching for you. Come in, please.”
“Agent Davis had hoped to join us, but a family emergency came up.”
The older man closed the door behind her. “I know all about those. Let’s sit in the living room again. May I offer you coffee or a soda?”
“No, thanks.” Bri took a seat on the couch.
Michelle’s father sat in the upholstered chair across from her and leaned forward, hands clasped. “I assume you have new information about the fire at my daughter’s house.”
“I do, but it hasn’t yet led me anywhere concrete.” Bri explained about the expanded list of names and the tip she’d received that they were all connected. “I know I already ran the initial list by you, but I wanted you to review it again now that I have more names. I’m hoping if you see them all together, it will trigger some connection between them.” She withdrew a copy of the list from the folder, handed it over—and held her breath.
Wallace gave the names his full attention as almost half a minute ticked by.
But in the end, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. None of these names mean anything to me.” He held out the sheet.
Bri swallowed past her disappointment. Her best hope offinding a link had just gone down the toilet. “Why don’t you keep that, in case anything comes to mind later?”
He set the list on the coffee table. “Do you think talking to another relative of someone on the list may help?”
“That’s my next move.” She picked up the folder and her purse. No reason to linger—or tell him she wasn’t holding out much hope for a breakthrough there.
“You’ll let me know if you find out anything?”
“Of course.” She stood.
He accompanied her to the door, and once they said their goodbyes she returned to her car, trying to quell her frustration.
They were so close. She could feel it.
But close didn’t count in a crime investigation. A miss was a miss, even if the answer was a mere whisper away.
As she started the car, her cell began to vibrate.
Marc with an update?
No. It was the main office number.
The operator got straight to the point. “Detective Tucker, a call came in for you five minutes ago. The person asked that I pass along a message. They said they had more information about the list you received in the mail and asked that you meet them at the pumpkin patch in the Kirkwood farmers’ market at four o’clock. I don’t know if it was a man or woman. The connection was bad. They wouldn’t leave a name or contact number, either, and caller ID was blocked.”
Bri’s pulse picked up.
This could be the break she’d been hoping for.
“Thanks. I’ll follow up.” She severed the call, checked her watch, and texted Marc with an update.
He pinged her back immediately.
Suspicious. Why would whoever this person is show their face? Take backup.
No surprise he was concerned. She was too.
But there was no time to get anyone from County to the market. The most she could do was ask Kirkwood to have an officer or detective show up and keep a discreet distance during the encounter.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she was meeting someone in a dark alley. You couldn’t get much more public than the Kirkwood farmers’ market.
