She made herself a plate of crackers and hummus, ate while Seleena’s body bled out on the cabin floor. She’d take the camera, she decided, leave the tripod and the lights. Too much to take back on her flight south.
Since she’d already stopped to change the plates, and she’d taken some time to beat some dings into it, she considered Seleena’s car a safe ride for the distance she had to drive.
Time to grab some cash and another couple IDs out of the bank in New Hampshire, she calculated. Then she’d leave the car at the airport, catch a flight. She’d pick up a rental in Louisville.
They’d find the body in a few days, she imagined. She’d booked the cabin for a week, and had four days left. By then, she’d be … somewhere else.
She laughed a little as she washed down crackers with Diet Coke, and smiled over at Seleena’s body. “Now who made the mistake?”
*
After shift, Reed walked home with the dog. He picked up some supplies, and drove his personal car to CiCi’s. He’d have to tell them—Simone and CiCi—about the card, the threat, and lay out precautions he needed them to take.
When he arrived, he considered the house. All that glass, all that damn glass. So beautiful, and so vulnerable. Still, breaking in doors and windows wasn’t Hobart’s usual style.
She liked subterfuge. Breaking windows? That just wasn’t elegant.
He heard music—some of the windows were open to the spring air—recognized the steady, sexy beat of “After Midnight.” He walked the dog inside, and saw CiCi—tight cropped jeans, black T-shirt, long wild hair flowing while she danced.
She had some moves, he thought as she shoulder swayed and hip bumped her way around the room to Clapton’s genius guitar and seductive voice.
He didn’t notice Barney plopping down to watch beside him, and thumping his tail.
CiCi made a pivot, spotted him. Still moving, and now with a slow smile, she crooked a finger at Reed. “Let’s dance, Delicious.”
He stepped to her, put an arm around her waist and swept her into an impressive dip.
“Look at you!”
“Guys who dance get more girls,” he told her, sweeping her back up and into a slow spin.
“You’ve been holding out.”
“You never asked me to dance before.”
Simone came down the stairs to see her grandmother and the police chief dancing—smoothly—while the dog sat watching them with apparent fascination.
They ended the dance with his arms around CiCi’s waist, and hers linked around his neck. And grinning at each other.
“So that’s how it is.”
“Simone, you are my greatest treasure.” With a happy sigh, CiCi rested her head on Reed’s shoulder a moment. “But now that I know this man can move sexy to Clapton, I may have to steal him from you.”
“I’m yours,” Reed told her, and kissed the top of her head.
He caught the scent of her shampoo, a whiff of turpentine, and a faint, fading drift of weed.
It all said CiCi.
She gave him a squeeze, then turned to study the dog. “And here’s the four-legged cutie. You’re right, Simone, he has a sweet face, and eyes full of heart.”
She didn’t crouch, just held out a hand. “Come on and say hello, little darling.”
“It takes him awhile to…”
Reed trailed off as Barney stood, and walked straight to CiCi.
He couldn’t say Barney had gotten used to people by spending the day around them. Though he’d warmed up to Cecil, he’d cringed away from every human being they’d come to on the walk home.
And here, with only a hand held out, he’d gone to CiCi, wagging his tail as she bent down to pet him.
“Maybe you are a witch.”
“Of course I am, and I have an innate affinity for animals, especially canines as I was a she-wolf in an early life. Plus this sweetie and I recognize each other, don’t we, my handsome boy? We’ve danced, too, in yet another life.”
It wouldn’t have surprised Reed a bit.
“He’s Barney.”
“Acceptable,” Simone decreed, then picked up the remote to turn the music down a few notches. “Since we’ve all finished work for the day, I’m ready for some wine. Any takers?”
“Twist my arm,” said CiCi.
“Maybe we could sit outside with that. It’s warm enough. I’ve got some things to talk over with both of you.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“You get the wine, Simone,” CiCi told her. “Let’s see how Barney likes the view from the patio.”
Deliberately, she led Reed and the dog out. “This is about Patricia Hobart.”
“Is that grapevine or psychic?”
“I’m going to say I felt a disturbance this morning.”
“In the Force?”
“I know what I know when I know it.” She tapped a finger to his chest. “Then Hildy called me this afternoon, after you met with her. Hildy’s no blabbermouth, but we go back. She wanted to talk this through with me. I haven’t said anything to Simone. She’s been working, and I didn’t want to distract her. And I thought you’d want to tell her yourself. I can take Barney for a walk on the beach, if you want privacy.”
“No, but thanks. I’d like to talk to both of you.”
“I believe strongly in the threefold rule. What you send out into the universe, good or bad, comes back at you threefold. But I’d risk whatever came at me to send out something that would drop that bitch like a stone down a bottomless well for trying to hurt you or my baby.”
“I won’t let her hurt Simone, or you.”
CiCi framed his face with her hands. “Add yourself to that.”
“I’ve … danced with her before. I know her moves.”
“And they’re at it again.” With an exaggerated eye roll, Simone brought out a bottle of wine and three glasses. After setting the wine and glasses on the table, she pulled a long, fat chew stick out of her back pocket. “Now everyone has a treat.”
She poured the wine as Barney settled down with his treat. “God, I had a really good day, and now it’s a gorgeous evening.”
“I’m sorry to have to put a hitch in that.”
Simone glanced at Reed. “Seriously serious then.”
“Let’s sit down.” He’d tried out several approaches in his head, hadn’t settled on any. So in the end, he went with straight ahead.
“I got a card in the morning mail. From Patricia Hobart.”
As she sat beside CiCi, Simone reached for her grandmother’s hand.
“What kind of card?”
“The kind that cost her three-ninety-nine, plus applicable tax and postage.” He described the card, then relayed the message.
“She’s threatening you. Has she ever done that sort of thing before?”
“No, not to me, and I confirmed with the FBI today, there’s no evidence she contacted or threatened anyone else. She’s pissed off she missed with me, and I shot her. I cost her the big house and a lot of money. Being pissed, she had to take another shot—metaphorically. And that break in pattern tells me she’s going to make more mistakes. That’s the good part.”
“There’s a ‘good part’ to getting a death threat?” Simone demanded.
“More than one. It tells me I shook her enough to get inside that twisted brain of hers. It tells me that fresh off killing Emily Devlon, she thought of me, sent the card. It had a lock of hair inside it. It’s going to be Emily Devlon’s hair.”
“Jesus, she’s a horrible, sick, vicious creature,” CiCi said. “Karma will make her its bitch, but until then…”
“The justice system will make her its bitch first,” Reed told her. “She mailed the card from Florida, and the FBI will track exactly where.”
“But she won’t be there,” Simone pointed out.
“No, but it tells us where she was. It tells us when she was there. Where is that in relation to the Devlons? They work on triangulating that and they’ll find where she lived while she stalked Emily. They’ll talk to people who talked to her, who saw her. Every piece of information counts. On top of it, she warned me. She did it to scare me, but she missed again. Warned, I take steps.”
“What steps?”
“I bring in the FBI for one of those steps.”
“The dickhead?” Simone reminded him.
“He’s no longer SAC—Special Agent in Charge. The new SAC is Special Agent Tonya Jacoby.”