“I’m with Marie Richards. The house in the photo is her mother-in-law’s place in Lake Charles. Her boys are there. She is worried and doesn’t trust the police because she doesn’t like how they treated her brother.”

“He confessed, they were doing their job,” Max said. “The threat to Marie’s family is a separate matter.”

“Whatever the reason, I told her to call them.”

“That’s her choice. But can you stick with her until I’m done here? And someone took that photo.”

“She asked her brother-in-law to check on the family. Right now there’s no sign of trouble, but she’s taking this seriously.”

“Good. I’ll let Grant know.”

“She’s going to the courthouse to support her brother.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I’m done if you’re not here.”

Max ended the call before Sean could lower his phone. He stepped back into the house and heard Marie on her cell phone in the kitchen. After he listened for a few seconds it was clear that she was talking to the police and wasn’t happy with their responses.

“Someone followed me all the way to Lake Charles!” she said, exasperated. “Why would someone do that? Why would they leave a photo of my mother-in-law’s house?… I don’t know why!” She listened as she walked into the living room. She wore heels that took her from very short to short. “Fine,” she snapped, and looked like she was going to throw her phone across the room.

“They told me I have to go to the police station to file a report,” she said. “I need that photo.”

Sean handed it to her. “I already checked it for prints—there are none. I checked it under a black light for hidden messages or any impressions—nothing. But maybe seeing is believing and they’ll open a case. I’d suggest that you be diligent driving to and from work and the courthouse. Do you have an alarm system?” He saw no sign of security.

She shook her head. “It’s a safe neighborhood.”

“Safe neighborhood means nothing to some people,” Sean said. “Max is talking to Stan now. I’ll introduce you when she’s done.”

“I looked her up while I was on hold with the police. She’s the crime reporter. She did a big show on a woman who killed her own son. I saw it, it was awful. How could someone do that? Kill their child so mercilessly?” She shook her head as she slung an oversized purse over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll follow you.”

Chapter Ten

Max was surprisingly patient when working a case. She’d been on stakeouts, spent hundreds of hours in libraries, and once stared at a killer during an interview for a solid thirty-five minutes before he decided to speak.

Patience meant she usually got what she wanted.