“Maybe.” He drew in a breath, finding he had no pity in his heart for the man.

Spencer descended the stairs in time to see Jordan rise out of a squad car. Her gaze was wide, searching, and unseeing. He crossed directly to her. “Jordan.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Thirty minutes. I checked the scene out so I could brief you.”

“Did Rawlings really shoot himself?” she asked.

“He did. Single gunshot to his right temple.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe it,” she said.

“There’s a closet full of pictures of women, including you and Avery, and all the Austin victims,” Spencer said.

Her head turned in the direction of the forensic team, whose evidence-collection kits rattled slightly as they crossed the lot.

“What about Casey? Anything linking him to Casey?”

“No. What do you know about Rawlings?”

“Always friendly. Like I said, gave me a discount because I was a cop. I went by his store at least once a week. I also know he supplied food to a homeless shelter. Said it was a waste to throw out unused food.”

“He could have met all the women at the shelter.”

“Avery lived there for a while.”

“Did he ever say anything to you that gave you the creeps?”

“The last time I was in, he asked how I was doing and wanted to know if Avery was well.” She shook her head. “It sounded so innocent.”

“How did he know you two were sisters?”

“I brought her into the store several times over the years.” She shook her head. “None of this fits the guy I knew, nor does it tell us what happened to Casey.”

“This scene is going to take days to process,” Spencer said.

“And it’ll be weeks of evidence handling after that.” She shook her head. “There has to be something in that apartment that connects to Casey.”

“As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said.

“Christ, Rawlings was in my life weekly. You would think after all this time I would have gotten some kind of vibe off him. But never once did alarm bells sound.”

“Guys like him don’t always look like the bogeyman. They’re the nice guy next door.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Friday, April 23

10:30 p.m.

Jordan was bone-tired when she pushed through the front door of her house. She knew instantly that she was not alone. Keys gripped in her hand, she called out, “Avery?”

A beat of silence and then Avery called back, “Yes, it’s me!”

The pump of adrenaline slowed, but these days it never fully eased. She lived on edge. On high alert.

“Where have you been?” Avery asked.

“A crime scene.” She toed off her shoes by the front door and set her purse on the table.

“Again?” Footsteps moved down the front hallway. As Avery approached, she carried with her the strong scent of her favorite jasmine shampoo. She had showered.