“Will do,” he said. “Thanks again, and thanks for not tipping off Lindsay Kelly. She’ll find out about Lopez soon enough, though. I just got the okay from our DA. They’re announcing Lopez’s murder at a press conference this afternoon, and we’re also putting out an APB for Kelly’s friend as a person of interest—as a potential witness who might be in danger . . . of course.”

“Of course.” Ellie knew what that language in a police department press release actually meant. Though investigators weren’t yet ready to say as much, Hope Miller was their primary suspect in the murder of Alex Lopez.

23
Tuesday, June 22, 1:47 p.m.

Bing. Another new message alert. From Ed Carpenter—again.

Lindsay glanced at the top of her laptop screen: 1:47. Shit. She should have been in the car seven minutes ago.

By her count, this was email round five with the same client in the last twenty minutes. She knew he was slamming her with questions because he was still aggrieved that she’d handed over a court hearing this morning to “some person I’ve never even met before.” She had explained that it was a simple request for a trial setover—one that he had sought—but he replied by threatening to hire another lawyer if she didn’t handle his case personally at every stage. Now he was asking whether his pending DUI charges could affect the ongoing fight with his ex over child support. She typed “Late for a meeting, but the short answer is no” and hit send. Terse, but a lot cheaper than if she’d billed him for researching and writing a responsive memo, which is what most lawyers would do.

She was zipping up her roller bag on the hotel bed when the handyman sent her a text saying he was running late. With extra time suddenly on her hands, she pulled up the number for Detective Ellie Hatcher.

“Hey, Ellie, this is Lindsay Kelly. I was calling to see if you might have learned any more about that blood match from the Wichita crime scene. I found out that Hope thought someone out here might have been following her.”