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Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

Amazing how quickly we can think all of that. Instead of saying it, I said, “I got burned because I forgot that everyone is a potential villain until I prove they’re not. This guy. He’s a type. I worked with forensic profilers enough to recognize a personality type.”

“Am I a type?”

“Oh stop. I’m talking about an intensity. The way he stared without blinking while he was trying to project the good old boy image, like he was trying to read our reactions. There’s something mean and hard about him, underneath all the cap doffing and ma’aming, that’s all I’m saying.”

Carlo fixed me with that gaze that made me wonder if I’d been speaking aloud what I supposed were only thoughts. Not for the first time I thought if I wasn’t careful he could make me confess to anything. He said, “It has been a while since we’ve had guests. Maybe it’s time. I invited him over for stargazing. As a thank-you for helping me. I’m sure he won’t murder us in our beds.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” I growled softly, then got myself a refill and went back to work on the skip trace. At least it was something different to think about.

Seventeen

There were so few places of business up in Catalina it was easy to appear to just happen on someone coincidentally. Beaufort threw a few things into his shopping cart at Bashas’, the only grocery store in at least ten miles, the same one where he picked up flowers for Gloria. He stopped at the Starbucks counter to get a coffee. They didn’t used to have coffee shops inside grocery stores either.

Carlo was sitting at a small table near the Starbucks booth with two other men, all intent on their conversation. Beaufort had a rubber hedgehog that he had picked up for Achilles in the pet aisle. As he paid for his coffee he squeaked the toy to get Carlo’s attention. It worked, and Carlo called a hello to him.

Beaufort maneuvered his cart to the table. He was not invited to sit with the men, but he sat down anyway in the fourth chair. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” he asked, hoping it sounded classy enough.

Carlo introduced him to Father Elias Manwaring, from St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, and to Harold Maas, an astronomer who taught at the college and was also part of the Mars Rover project. Carlo explained that they were getting together regularly to talk about a seminar they were planning on the interface between science and religion. When Carlo was finished explaining, the three men looked at Beaufort expectantly, maybe thinking he would be off now so they could get back to their discussion, but he didn’t go. So the portly man identified as a priest stepped in politely.