I double-check that the door is locked. Take a look around the room and bathroom, open the closet door. I put on my pajamas and get into bed. Thoughts, scenarios of what tomorrow might bring, swirl through my brain, and it’s difficult to shut them off. One of my therapists when I was in college was big on relaxation exercises. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and imagine each part of your body, each muscle tensing, then letting go. I dutifully tried her techniques every night before going to sleep, with little success in actually relaxing, but I still do them sometimes. I try now, hoping to banish thoughts of tomorrow as I work from one muscle to the next.

My phone vibrates next to me and startles me awake. The room is dark, and my phone’s screen seems to pulse in the night. UNKNOWN C ALLER. I glance at Sadie, but she’s sleeping contentedly, no bad guys lurking, I hope. Just some sicko who’s getting a thrill out of scaring me. I turn off the phone, shudder, and stick it under a pillow.

CHAPTER 50 - Rita

CHAPTER 50

Rita

IN THE MORNING, I RUN INTO LAUREN ON MY WAY BACK TO MY OFFICE.

“How’s it going, Rita?” she asks.

“Making some progress.” I feel guilty that she’s been shut out. After the FBI became involved, Detective Schmitt went to Bob and complained that he needed Lauren’s undivided attention to help him with his cases, and wasn’t she his partner in training anyway? Bob concurred and pulled Lauren, even though she’d been crucial in our investigation so far. But that’s the way things sometimes happen.

“Hey, why don’t we head over to Mac’s later? I’ll fill you in,” I say.

She nods. “That would be great.”

Doug sticks his head out his door. “Morning, Rita. Running late?”

Go fuck yourself, Doug, I mumble under my breath.

Joe, Chase, Agent Metz, and I meet in the conference room. Chase sets down a cardboard tray of coffees he picked up on the way in, and I place a tin of André’s cookies next to it. We’re all a little tired and need the caffeine and sugar.

We review everything we’ve got so far on Annalise Robb, the autopsy report, the forensics, and what we’ve gleaned from our interviews. “What are you thinking, Chase?” I ask.

He runs his hand through his dark hair. “It was planned. The guy must’ve had the ligature and the tarp ready to go.”

I nod. “But what about the victim. How did he know she’d be there if he was someone from the Bradley house?”

Agent Metz clears her throat. “What if it was chance? He was out driving around, looking for a victim. Anybody. And he ran into her.”