He will be brought to justice, Callaway answered, staring the boy dead in the eye. I promise you that. He thought he understood the anger the boy was feeling. He suspected that if they didnt find the killer soon, Jake might just try to take matters into his own handssomething Callaway could never allow. He wasnt about to let an angry, innocent boy become collateral damage.

He turned to Mrs. Powell. In the meantime, call me if you think of anything you might have forgotten.

Thank you, she said with a sniff.

Callaway left the trailer, Harley following close behind.

It doesn't add up, Harley said. Candy, with her money and expensive clothes, hanging out with a girl raised in… She gestured vaguely at the area. This.

Callaway took a deep breath and let it out, relieved to have that difficult conversation behind him. He unfolded his shades from his breast pocket and slipped them on.

What do you say we find out what this Candy knows? he suggested.

You know where Bedford Heights is?

Dont even need my GPS.

She nodded. Alright, cowboy. Just dont drive too fast. Wouldnt want this city girl getting lost out in all this country.

He chuckled and started the truck. She could be a pain in the ass, yes, but maybe, just maybe, she was a pain he could tolerateat least until she screwed up enough for Newbury to yank her off the case.

CHAPTER EIGHT

She woke gasping for air, some kind of fabric covering her facea sheet, she supposed. Yes, that was it. It was night, she was back at home with her parents, and the sheet must have ridden over her face.

As she moved to pull the sheet down, however, she discovered her arms were pinned behind her back. Her legs were bound together, too.

The sheets must have got all twisted around me, she thought, fighting a rising tide of panic, but she knew this was not true. Whatever was tied around her wrists, it had bitten deep enough to numb the tips of her fingers. Her feet, too, felt thick and unfeeling.

She struggled to sit up, and the headache that washed over her made her realize she had probably been hit with something. She closed her eyes, trying to determine if her head injury was worse than shed initially thought.

Someone must have slipped something into my drink at the party.

The party, yes. One minute shed been talking to a friend, and the next shed been sitting at the bar feeling very dizzy. Someone had told her it was time to go home. But who had said that? She tried to picture a face, but nothing came.