They chatted for a few more minutes before Haddon left, declining all Marsha’s attempts to get him to stay for supper. ‘We got plenty,’ she assured him. ‘C’mon, Dr Defoe. Where you gotta be?’
‘Back at my office, I’m afraid.’ Haddon smiled ruefully. ‘You have no idea how much paperwork I still need to finish tonight.’
This was a lie. But then so was Marsha Raymond’s claim that she could afford to feed an extra mouth. Even with Trey’s salary coming in, the family were barely scraping by and Haddon knew it.
‘That’s a good man, right there,’ Trey’s grandma Coretta observed, tottering in from the backyard just in time to see Doc Defoe drive off in his fancy electric car. ‘You don’ know how lucky you are, Treyvon.’
‘I do know, Gamma.’ Trey kissed the old lady on the top of her balding head. ‘Believe me. I know.’
It was kind of Haddon to stop by and see him. Thoughtful.
At the same time, a small part of Trey felt suspicious. Why had he chosen tonight to trek all the way out to Westmont? Doug Roberts had been dead a year and he’d never ‘stopped by’ before. And why all the questions about Nikki and the police? Was it really coincidence, Dr Defoe’s visit coming so soon after Lisa Flannagan’s sudden death? And did he really not know anything about Lisa’s murder?
Trey helped himself to a large plate of El Pollo Loco wings, trying to push these irrational fears aside. I’m being paranoid. What could Haddon Defoe possibly know? A few minutes later, his cell phone buzzed. Reading the text, he stiffened.
‘What’s the matter, baby?’ Martha Raymond asked. After all Trey’s years of addiction, she’d learned to watch her son’s reactions like a hawk.
‘Nothing.’ He smiled.
‘You sure?’
He nodded, putting the phone away. ‘Just work. Something I forgot to do.’
After dinner, Trey did the dishes and took out the trash. It was important to keep to his normal routine, not to look as if he were rushing. He knew his mom would worry if anything seemed out of the ordinary. Only once the kitchen was clean did he grab his jacket, as casually as he could.
‘I’m going out,’ he told Marsha.
Instinctively, her eyes narrowed. ‘Out where?’ Trey hadn’t used in over two years, but ‘I’m going out’ still triggered a fear response. It probably always would.
‘Jus’ for a walk, Mama.’ He kissed her on the cheek.
‘A walk? In our beautiful neighborhood?’ she raised an eyebrow.
Trey chuckled. ‘I need some cigarettes. Today was a crazy day, you know? I won’t be long.’
‘OK, baby.’ Marsha forced herself to relax. He was a grown man after all. She couldn’t keep tabs on his every move. ‘Watch yourself.’
‘I will, Mama.’
The cool evening breeze on his skin gave Trey Raymond no comfort as he walked down Denker Avenue. He was wired like an over-strung guitar, ready to snap at any moment.
He waited till he’d turned the corner, out of sight of his house, to pull out his cell phone and re-read the text:
‘Be at the corner of Vermont and 135th in 1 hr.’
That was all it said. But it was all it needed to say. Trey knew who the text was from, and what it meant. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. It was too late for that.
He could see the corner, less than fifty yards away. Apart from a couple of wasted hookers, slumped against the convenience store wall, it was deserted.
His phone buzzed again. MMS. A picture this time.
Trey clicked it open and felt the bile rise up in his throat. It was a woman’s torso, what was left of it, covered in stab wounds. Her bare breasts had been sliced open grotesquely, like a split chicken ready for stuffing.
Lisa? Or someone else, someone new? Another victim?
Beneath the picture were two words. ‘Hurry up.’
Trey started to run. He reached the rendezvous, breathless, but there was no one there. No cars, no people, nothing. Only the hookers sitting on the curb. Crouching down over the girls, Trey shook one by the shoulder.