“Speaking of Mr. Hayes—”

“Samuel?”

“We’re worried about him as well,” D.D. informed her. Across from her, Phil nodded, playing along. They hadn’t been able to locate Samuel thus far. Why not recruit Mrs. Davies to their cause?

D.D. paused. “Do you maybe have a cell phone number? A better way for us to reach him?”

“Oh. Oh yes. Just one moment.”

Mrs. Davies disappeared into the kitchen. D.D. tried hard not to think about that space, the piles of unwashed dishes, the rotting food, the cat hair covering the counters. A few minutes later, the older woman returned with a scrap of paper in her hands.

“I could call him if you’d like?” Mrs. Davies offered brightly.

“That would be great.”

Mrs. Davies dialed the number. Nothing like a suspect receiving a call from a known number. Mrs. Davies was making D.D. and Phil’s lives easier all the time.

Enough time had passed that D.D. was growing concerned, when:

“Samuel!” Mrs. Davies exclaimed. Her face split into a warm smile. All these years later, it was easy to see she still considered him to be like a son to her.

It almost made D.D. feel guilty.

“Have you heard the news, then?” Mrs. Davies continued. “Shana Day escaped. I have two fine detectives at my house now. They’re worried about me, Sam. And they’re worried about you, too.”

A pause, Samuel saying something back. Whatever it was, it made Mrs. Davies frown.

“Well, I don’t know. . . . I . . . Yes . . . No. Here. You talk to them. They’ll want to hear from you directly anyway.”

Without further prompting, Mrs. Davies thrust the phone into D.D.’s hand. She lifted it to her ear.

“Samuel Hayes? Detective D. D. Warren, BPD. We’re working with the task force to locate Shana Day.”

Phil nodded encouragingly. Emphasize Shana Day. They weren’t suspicious of Samuel at all. No, he wasn’t currently a lead suspect in the murder of three women, let alone under suspicion because he had possible ties to their other lead suspect, AnaRose Simmons. No, they weren’t dying to interrogate him.

“In these situations,” D.D. continued briskly, “it’s a matter of protocol to visit an escaped inmate’s known associates. In this case, that includes you. But I’ll be honest, Mr. Hayes. Given Shana’s track record, it’s not so much that we believe you’re involved with her escape, as much as we have reason to fear for your safety.”

“What?” Samuel Hayes sounded startled.

“It would be best if we met in person,” D.D. continued smoothly. “We can be at your residence ASAP. Address?”

“My safety? But, but, but . . .”

She had him right where they wanted him. Not defensive about a police visit but bewildered.

“Street address,” she prompted.

He rattled it off, tone still uncertain.