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When the vehicle stopped on the Cortez side of the street, Kerri’s heart surged into her throat.
Sykes and Peterson.
Assholes.Her lips flattened into a thin line as she watched, scarcely able to see over the upholstered part of the door where it met the glass of the window. Maybe she had gone too far in coming here like this, but by God they had pushed her to this point.
Jen flashed the two men one of her trademark sexy grins as their paths crossed on the sidewalk of the Cortez home. Peterson, of course, looked back at her ass as they walked on.Perv.
The detectives stopped at the Cortez front door and rang the bell. Kerri eased lower in the seat as Jen climbed behind the wheel.
“Friends of yours?” Jen asked without looking down as she fastened her seat belt.
“Get us out of here,” Kerri urged.
Jen started the engine, checked both ways, and then eased away from the curb. When she’d reached the intersection at the other end of the block, Kerri sat up.
“Those were the detectives assigned to the investigation.”
“In that case,” Jen suggested as she handed Kerri her cell, “we were cutting it close.”
“Too damned close for comfort.” She took the phone and opened the photo app.
“There’s some weird shit in that house, Kerri. I’m here to tell you. There are crosses everywhere; nothing against crosses or religion, but this is way over the top. I’m surprised your detective friends haven’t mentioned it.”
“The masks,” Kerri muttered. This was what Tori had been talking about.
“You talk about creepy.” Jen snorted. “If that little girl isn’t a future serial killer, then I’m Mother Teresa. And we both know that ain’t so.”
Kerri had a very bad feeling Jen was right about the girl.
31
1:00 p.m.
Swanner Residence
Twenty-Third Avenue South
Birmingham
The phone rang, and Tori wondered if it was her mom checking up on her again.
Her aunt Diana answered the extension in the kitchen. Judging by the way she laughed, it was probably Aunt Jen. Jen had a way about her that could make even the saddest person laugh.
Except her. Tori doubted anything would ever make her laugh again.
She pushed up from the sofa, left her lunch on the coffee table. She couldn’t eat. Had zero interest in watching any more television. She’d spent the morning helping Aunt Diana at the dance studio. The class had been the three- and four-year-olds. The thought almost made her smile. The little kids were so sweet. She hoped they didn’t grow up to be mean teenagers like so many other kids.
Like Alice. And poor Brendal.
Tori wished Alice had never come to Brighton. She’d ruined all their lives. Brendal was dead. Even though she wasn’t very nice, she didn’t deserve to die.
Trudging up the stairs, Tori decided she might as well play a game in the boys’ room. Anything to get her mind off life.
Before reaching the boys’ room, she paused at the door to Amelia’s room. She swallowed the emotion that instantly swelled into her throat. She missed Amelia so much. Her fingers lit on the doorknob before her mind made the decision. She opened the door and walked inside. Diana came in here every morning. She’d told Tori how she would sit down on Amelia’s bed and talk to her. It made her feel closer to her daughter.
Tears burned Tori’s eyes as she stepped into the room. It was exactly the way it had been when Amelia died. All the dance posters and fun throw pillows. Her cousin had a flair about her. Her closet was full of trendy clothes. Amelia had been the kind of person who could take thrift store finds and turn them into the hottest fashion.
Tori dropped onto her bed and stared at the framed photo of Amelia and her brothers on the bedside table. “I miss you.”
