He felt Lindsay Kelly’s eyes drilling into him. “What was the point of this whole CSI reenactment if you weren’t going to follow the results where they led? No one has seen Hope for days. Her last known location was right here, and now there’s blood in the foyer—exactly where the rug would have been for the open house. A rug that has been missing ever since she went missing. So are you going to process whatever it is that lit up that luminol, or do I need to make a separate phone call?”

Yep, definitely a lawyer.

Robin started to apologize, but Carter signaled that it wasn’t necessary. “I’ll get someone from our CSI unit to take a closer look, just to be sure.”

“Really?” Robin said, her voice brightening. “That would be amazing. I’m sure your friend is fine, Lindsay, but at least this way, you’ll know for sure that nothing happened to her here.”

It was obvious to everyone in the room that Lindsay had lost her ally. Robin had been briefly entertained by a mystery at her door, but once she’d seen that faint blue light, she was ready to accept any explanation that could allow her to go back to feeling safe and sound in her home again.

The lawyer thanked him, but Carter could tell that he had managed to buy himself only a temporary reprieve. This woman was going to be trouble.

9
Saturday, June 19, 9:12 a.m.
Three Days Later

Carter was asleep on his sofa, the television on but muted, when the sound of knocking at his door woke him. This was the only bad part of living in his own guest house for the summer. The rent money was sweet, but people who paid top dollar during peak season expected five-star treatment. Burned-out lightbulb? Too dumb to work the TV remote control? Go find the landlord out back!

He swore under his breath when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door. Lindsay Kelly.

He untumbled the locks and opened the door.

“Did you get the blood results back?” she asked.

He had made the mistake of telling Robin and Lindsay about advances in rapid DNA testing. Instead of waiting for days and months for an offsite lab to compare DNA from a crime scene against discarded beer cans and cigarette butts, with a rapid DNA machine police can process samples themselves, yielding results as quickly as ninety minutes. The nearly automated machines were even connected now to CODIS, the national DNA database. The sixty-three-member East Hampton Police Department didn’t have a so-called magic box of its own, but it did have access to the Suffolk County Police Department’s, which typically had a forty-eight- to seventy-two-hour turnaround for results.