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“We’ll find something,” she said, and the positive words helped her feel better about the situation – much better – as Connor wove his way through the narrow streets, heading up a hillside to a row of small houses with a view.
The flashing lights told Cami where the crime scene was, and they had to ease their way past a knot of concerned bystanders, being kept at a distance by police, before parking behind the coroner’s van. As they edged their way past, she saw their faces. Shocked, nervous, disbelieving. The killer hadn’t just destroyed one life. He’d created fear in an entire neighborhood. Now, anger and resolve were replacing the discouragement she’d felt earlier. He needed to be stopped. And he would be stopped.
It occurred to Cami, as she climbed out of the car and followed Connor up to the home’s front door, that all these kills had taken place in upscale neighborhoods. She guessed that the owners could afford the smart home functionality, and she immediately wondered if she would find the same evidence inside, the same flashing console, the same disconnection from the control panel that she’d noticed in the other two places.
The cop at the front door – in his forties, with a round face, an air of efficiency, and tired eyes, greeted Connor in a friendly way.
“Glad you were able to get to the scene so fast,” he said.
“Who’s the victim? Who found the body?” Connor asked.
“Well, it’s an unusual situation,” the cop said. “Apparently the homeowner, Ms. Linda Caddy, is out of state for a fortnight, and she wanted somebody to stay in the house while she was away. That’s what happened, and the victim, Miss Amber Timms, age twenty-five, is the house sitter. She’s been here a few nights, according to neighbors.”
Cami felt shocked. Only a few nights? This was not the home's usual resident or owner but a house sitter who’d come in for a temporary time.
The cop continued. “I believe, from the witness report, that she ordered a takeaway delivery, and the driver who brought it half an hour later, was the person who found her.”
Cami shook her head, taking in the bustle of the crime scene, the crackle of radios, the policemen in their forensic gear, already checking the scene.
“We told him to stay in case you wanted to speak to him,” the cop said, pointing.
“Let’s do that,” Connor said, and Cami nodded. She felt a tiny flicker of relief at not having had to go into the crime scene itself, where the body still lay. Instead, they turned away and headed for the dark blue Mazda that was parked on the opposite side of the road, lights still on – and Cami was sure, engine and heater, too. From the window, she could see the stunned expression of the driver, who only looked about twenty years old. He was gripping the wheel, wearing the red and white branded hat of the delivery company, and clearly still trying to get to grips with how a routine food delivery had turned into a nightmare.
Connor walked up to the car, and the man quickly fumbled to open the window.
“FBI. Can we have a word?” Connor said, and his eyes widened. He unlocked the door and scrambled out of the car, unfolding his lanky frame to stand in front of them.
“We can talk in the car if you like. If it's warmer?" Connor suggested, but the driver shook his head.
“Outside is fine. I’m not – I’m not really thinking about the cold at the moment,” he said in a shaky voice, his breath misting in the air as he spoke.
“Tell us what happened?” Connor asked.
He shifted from foot to foot.
“Well, it seemed like – like a normal delivery. I mean, I just got the notification on my phone. One veggie burger and Greek salad to be delivered to Amber Timms at this address. I went and picked it up, and then I came here. I stopped right here,” he said, now breathing faster.
“Go on?” Connor asked. Cami listened intently, hoping that something this driver had seen or heard, or some of the information he gave, might provide a breakthrough.
“I walked across the road and rang the customer’s doorbell, but I didn’t hear a chime. I thought perhaps it wasn’t working,” he explained.
Already, on hearing this, Cami’s mind was starting to race. The same situation? Failed electronics? This was the scenario that they’d found in the other two homes, playing out all over again.
"So, then, what did you do?" Connor asked.
“Then, I knocked hard on the door.” He paused. “And as I did, I heard something, some noise from inside. I don’t know what it was. Like a banging or a thumping noise.”
Listening, Cami felt horror crawl down her spine. Had he actually heard the noise of the murder being committed? The body hitting the floor? The killer making a hasty departure out the back?
“The lights were on inside,” the driver continued, “so after waiting another little while and knocking again, I got worried. You know, I’ve been to homes before now where the owner has been on the way to let me in and has taken a fall, hurt themselves. That happened in the past, a lady tripped on the stairs on the way down and knocked herself out and I had to call the ambulance, and now I started to worry about it. So I called out, and then I tried the door and it opened. It wasn’t locked at all. And I saw – I saw her legs. She was lying half in the hall, half in the living room, dead. You could see – you could see the marks on her neck, but I didn’t touch her. I just ran out and called the cops.”
“You did the right thing there,” Connor said. “And you take care. Don’t drive if you’re feeling shocked. It might be better to go home and not continue working tonight,” he advised.
The young man nodded. “Yeah. My shift boss has said the same. He also said I must head home and take it easy. I think I’ll do just that.”
Connor thanked him, before turning back to the crime scene.
This killer had committed his murder and then, from the sounds of it, he’d fled right out of the back door.
