“Maybe,” Laura muttered. She was having a hard time relying on that premise lately. It seemed that the more she wanted or needed a vision to come, the less likely it was to happen—or to make any sense when it did.
Thinking about Chris made her reach for her phone. The GPS said that they were five minutes away. Enough time for a short conversation. She found his name in her contacts list and then hesitated, her hand hovering over the call button.
Maybe it would be better to just send him a text, she thought. A text about how she was back on a case again. He didn’t know yet. It would be a good reason to contact him. A good excuse.
Just wanted to let you know I’m out of state again, she wrote.New case—will let you know when I think I’ll be back.She wanted to add some kind of over-explanation about how that would give them a chance to let the girls spend some time together or schedule a new date, but she didn’t. She pressed send, telling herself to keep it simple.
After a moment, she reconsidered and added a second message.I’m sorry about what happened.
She tapped the cell phone against her forearm as they drove, rethinking it all again. She shouldn’t have sent him a text. He could take all day to respond to a text. He might take allweekto respond to a text. She should have called him. Calling was terrifying, but at least it was immediate. At least it would stop her from worrying about what he was going to say.
Then her cell phone buzzed in her hand, and she nearly dropped it in her haste to read his message.
Good luck on your case. I think we should let things settle a bit. Until you’re ready to address what really happened.
Laura read the message again, and then again.What really happened.
He knew that she was holding something back. Maybe he’d had an idea of what it was, although Laura knew that he couldn’t possibly have guessed the truth. Nate was an ace investigator, and he hadn’t been able to guess it. No one ever had.
So, what did Chris think? That she was on drugs? Suffering from PTSD? Drinking again? What?
“Are you alright?” Nate asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Laura said, quickly closing the message and turning off her phone screen.
“Are you sure?” Nate asked. “Because we’ve been parked for at least a good minute, and you haven’t moved yet.”
Laura looked up guiltily, seeing they were in front of another residential property not dissimilar to the one they had just left. “It was just Chris,” she said. “He wants to take some time out until I’m ready to talk about what happened. He knows I’m hiding something.”
“Maybe this is for the best. You could use some time to think about what you’re going to tell him,” Nate suggested, opening his car door. But Laura couldn’t bring herself to agree.
She got out and followed him, trying to put her head back into business mode. This was the home of Dina Grey’s family, after all. And where the Makks had lost a father and husband, the Greys had lost a daughter.
Nate knocked, and it was a deputy that answered the door—to Laura’s relief. She recognized him as one of young men who had been standing around on the deck of the ship when she and Nate arrived at the crime scene. It was good to see that he was doing something useful now, although she would reserve judgement on exactly how useful until after seeing the state the family were in.
Not that she expected them to be in a good place.
“Come in,” the deputy muttered, avoiding their eyes. It was as though he got the murderous vibe that Laura and Nate were both emitting. Strange, since Laura hadn’t seen any talent for observational skills in the locals so far.
Laura followed him with Nate behind her, and they moved through a narrow hallway lined with family photographs into a long, large room at the back of the house. It was clearly a modern extension, with glass walls on three sides and a glass roof, set up as a family room complete with a TV and sofas.
“These are the FBI,” the deputy said clumsily, making Laura want to roll her eyes.
She held her expression neutral, however. The family was sitting in front of her, or what remained of it. Just two sad, middle-aged people—a man and a woman—holding one another’s hands as they huddled on the sofa. Her parents. They looked devastated and in shock.
Laura was glad that she didn’t have to be the one to tell them that their daughter was dead, but it was still always difficult to deal with the grief of others. Especially when you had a daughter of your own to imagine losing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Grey,” she started, moving into the room. There was only one other seat in there—an armchair. Nate sat down in it, and Laura found herself perched on the edge of a sturdy-looking coffee table, facing them directly. “We’re so sorry for your loss. I’m Special Agent Laura Frost with the FBI.” A bit of repetition never hurt when people were lost in the fog of grief.
“I’m Special Agent Nathaniel Lavoie,” he added. “We’ve been brought in to investigate your daughter’s murder. Are you aware of the other linked case?”
Mrs. Grey nodded dully. “Everyone’s been talking about it, the last few days,” she said. Her voice sounded almost like an echo. Like the real thing should have been louder, bolder, clearer. “We even talked about how unfortunate they were. We never for a moment imagined…”
Mr. Grey squeezed her tighter.
“As you can perhaps understand, we’re trying to find out if there’s any link between Dina and Mr. Makks,” Laura said. She kept her tone as gentle as possible. This was a hard part of the job. Treading the line between being sensitive and knowing that you have a case to solve. “Are you aware of them knowing each other at all?”
Both of the parents shook their heads slowly. “We knew she was sad about the news,” Mr. Grey said. “But just in the normal way that anyone would be, you know? This happened right on our doorstep, and we all thought it was terrible. But that was all. She didn’t say anything at all about speaking to him or knowing him.”