AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s wrong?” Connor asked.
“Nothing. It’s just a text from Dr. Reeves.” He always started his texts out the same way. Sam Reeves here. Like she didn’t recognize his number from memory. Clearing her throat, she read his message. “ ‘Sam Reeves here. Spoke to the director on my way out. Frankie has a son who is refusing to participate in his funeral. Bad blood between them. Was news to me but thought you should know.’ ”
It took her back six months, to when Sam had provided critical information as they’d pursued a serial killer. He’d gleaned details from witnesses who were too afraid to speak to SDPD. They couldn’t have solved the case without him.
“Well,” Connor said after a beat of silence. “Given his proven track record at getting witnesses to talk, maybe we should interview Miss Evans next for more on Flynn’s son.”
Kit shook her head, something inside her chafing at Sam’s involvement. It was probably immature and petty, but she couldn’t rein it in. Not when she still felt so raw inside. “We’ll get to her. Let’s talk to the victim’s friends first.”
“Okay,” Connor said with a vexed look that indicated it was not okay and that they’d probably talk about this later.
Kit wanted to sigh.
They’d reentered the hall when Connor stopped midstride, pulling his phone from his pocket. With a frown, he showed Kit his screen.
The call was coming from somewhere inside Shady Oaks.
Connor hit accept and put the phone on speaker. “This is Detective Robinson.”
“Detective, this is Miss Evans. Can you come to my office, please?” Her tone sounded very stressed. “Right away. It’s important.”
“My partner and I will be right there.” Connor ended the call and smirked at Kit. “Guess we’re seeing her next after all.”
Chapter Three
Shady Oaks Retirement Village
Scripps Ranch, San Diego, California
Monday, November 7, 12:45 p.m.
The director of Shady Oaks appeared to be visibly shaken when Kit and Connor approached her open door. Faye Evans was in her midfifties, her silver hair cut in a bob. She was dressed casually, but her stance was anything but. She stood at the window, her head bowed and her body tense.
Connor knocked on the door and the woman spun around, fear flickering in her eyes when she saw them. The fear was quickly hidden behind a professional mask, but it had been there. It could simply have been due to one of her clients having been murdered with a butcher knife. Or it could have been something more.
“Detective Robinson.” The woman sat behind her desk and gestured to the two guest chairs.
“Miss Evans, this is my partner, Detective McKittrick,” Connor said as he and Kit took their seats. “She’s been reviewing the crime scene.”
Evans folded her hands on her desk and drew a breath. “I might as well just say it. The camera on Mr. Flynn’s floor was disconnected.”
Well, shit. “How do you know this, ma’am?” Kit asked, because this was far too convenient to be an accident.
“I tried to look at the security footage this morning, right after the first officers arrived, but the feed was blank. Like gray static. I thought I’d done something wrong. It’s a brand-new system and more complicated than I’m used to. But our IT guy just called to tell me that he’d checked the system remotely and there was no camera connection at all. He couldn’t tell how long it had been down. He’s coming in to check it out.”
“We need his name and contact information,” Connor said. “We’ll talk with him when he comes in. Do you normally watch the feeds, Miss Evans?”
“Yes, sometimes, but usually not the third-floor cameras. Nearly all the residents there live independently. I tend to focus on the areas where we have residents who exhibit exit-seeking behaviors.”
Kit had heard of this before. “You mean those who wander off or try to escape?”
“Exactly. It’s especially a problem in the memory care wing, which is why we have security there—to keep those patients safe. Even so, someone manages to get out every now and then. So I watch when I have a break, along with the security personnel. I checked the feeds from all the other cameras, and the rest are working just fine.” She turned her computer monitor so that they could see the four-by-two display. All cameras were functional. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard and the array changed, several of the blocks a solid, staticky gray. “The floors in the independent living wing are always calm and quiet, so we only view the footage if there’s a problem.”
“Who has access to the surveillance system?” Kit asked.
“Our IT guy, Archie Adler. He works full time, but mostly at night. He’s putting himself through school during the day, which is why he’s not here at the moment. He’s a nice young man. Only twenty-five, but incredibly responsible.”
That remains to be seen. “We’ll talk to him when he gets here. Does anyone else have access?”
