Page 71 of Not This Way


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Occupation. Maintenance.

He worked as a maintenance worker for his landlord’s properties. That’s why he would’ve been atbothaddresses; he apparently also just happened to live at one of them.

“So why aren’t you satisfied?” she murmured.

No one else was in the room to hear the question. And yet it gnawed at her.

Whyindeed.

She bit her lower lip, staring at the phone. The killer had hired someone to hide the bodies. Had existed like a wraith in darkness, hidden from sight.

So why would he have come out into the opennow?

She hesitated, staring at the phone.

She bit her lip.

And then she cycled back in the call logs.Beforethe calls were placed to Emily Thompson.

She stared at the information logged there, her eyes narrowed briefly.

Another number. This one an unknown caller.

Someone had called Boyd before he’d placed the calls to Emily’s number.

And now, like a hound with a scent, Rachel shifted her focus. Instead of lingering on the phone, she cycled to one of the cash apps.

Her finger hovered over it, and she paused. Part of her didn’t evenwantto know.

But she sighed, exhaling deeply. She clicked the app.

It didn’t take long to find the transaction.

A lump sum of a thousand dollars deposited into Boyd’s account right before he placed the calls to Mrs. Thompson.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath as the picture began to form in her mind’s eye.

Someone had paid Boyd to make those calls.

Someone had put him up to it.

The same way someone had paid a man to dump the bodies. Someone who liked to manipulate from behind closed doors, but never wanted to stick his neck out.

Rachel could feel her pulse quickening, and she set her teeth together tightly.

The man in their interrogation room wasn’t subtle. Wasn’t clever. Wasn’t sly.

He’d run from the cops and slammed into a barrier.

No… he was just another pawn.

She stared at the transaction details.

She needed it traced. To find out who’d wired the thousand dollars.

She placed a call, tapping her foot as the phone rang.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered to herself, standing isolated in the evidence room.

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