Chest heaving, Kenna gripped the railing. Fear exhausted all of her systems, leaving her deep sense of panic nowhere to nest. The familiar heat of bile crept up her throat and she vomited all over the garden of eggshell and salmon azaleas, tears falling in tandem.
Once the spell passed, she squared her shoulders, ordered an Uber, and waited at the end of the driveway, never turning once to look at 673 Fairbrook.
* * *
Upon arriving at her apartment, she had to phone the superintendent to let her in after rummaging around in her purse for what felt like an hour for a set of keys that weren’t there. She must have dropped them during her hasty getaway or mixed them in with her luggage.
Either way, her keys were at Dayton’s place and she had no intention of returning after what the detective had implied.
The unit was dead silent with Liza still out of town and Kenna couldn’t have been more grateful for that solace. The thought alone of processing her wild, competing emotions with anyone else around, even one person, had her bordering on mental collapse.
The 10 minutes she’d spent with Lacey Greene flashed through her head like a horror film. Her vacant stare out the window and the way she had slowly pivoted her head to meet their eyes. She covered her ears as if she actually heard the flickering film reel.
Weeks had passed since she’d revisited the files on her laptop but she could no longer ignore them. Detective Reynolds’ divine timing had seen to that.
Staring back at her was information she had gone over countless times—she’d practically memorized it all—but one line of text in her notes stood out as if it had been underlined in red ink.Audrey Dresden, UCLA, sexual acquaintance.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have zeroed in on the name otherwise but Carmen had mentioned it. What were the chances that Audrey never left Los Angeles?
Social media revealed 13 matches in L.A. and its surrounding areas but only one who’d graduated from UCLA. Her profile stated she was 37 and her location was marked Silver Lake. She had a pixie cut. Large, doe-like eyes. Kenna sent her a brief message, all the while imagining how expressive those same eyes would be while she sought answers to her tryst with Dayton.
Before Audrey had a chance to respond, she was browsing Greyhound routes, her in-case-of-emergency credit card at the ready. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve deemed traveling to Los Angeles a drastic measure.
But with the Portland Police Bureau insinuating that, perhaps, Dayton had something to do with Lacey’s death, she had to get out of town. Out of state. She was tired of attempting to solve this puzzle that only grew more complicated as each new piece clicked into place.
Only the fact that the pieces were living, breathing, and aching in their incompleteness gave Kenna cause to push onward.
23
POOR GIRL
Asking for a lawyer would’ve made him appear weak so he sat, mute, ready to cooperate only because he had no other choice.
A shoddy pendant light illuminated the interview room. Detective Reynolds sat across from him at the gunmetal table while Dayton stared at its surface. Different shades of gray comprised the interior, making for a morose atmosphere. A red light blinked in the upper left-hand corner.
Recording was in progress.
He’d once been thrown in jail for an entire day before Carmen came to his rescue, maxing out her platinum card to post his bail. This time, his wrists were unbound and he was treading new territory. Detained for interrogation.
Even if he did wind up in the same position, he was confident his sister wouldn’t show up with a quarter of a million dollars and a loving embrace.
Murderers don’t walk free.
“You know your Miranda rights?”
“Do I need to be Mirandized, detective?”
Reynolds snorted. “I don’t really give a shit. You’re in my house now. We’re going to play by my rules.Comprende?”
He gave a fractional nod.
Dayton felt as though everything had been emptied out of him. Every time he got close to Kenna, something tore them apart; first, her discovery of the Polaroids, and now the search warrant. She was probably packing as he sat in the cool, empty room, preparing to flee and change her name and forget the deranged doctor who loved her. And, though it would be painful, he would let her.
Only in his absence would she blossom into who she was meant to be, no longer wilted by his affections.
Reynolds reclined in his chair with a casualness that reeked of egotism. “Things aren’t looking good for you,ese.”
“Every officer employed by this station is currently tearing my home apart and I’m trapped in a room with a racist detective, so I’d say you’re right. I am a natural-born citizen of this country. Not that you care.”