“I’m finished,” Rivers said.

Emma-Mae cocked an eyebrow at Rebecca.

“Me too.” She was already moving to the still-open door.

Emma-Mae swept her pistol from the coffee table and stuck it into the pocket of her puffy jacket. “Good.” She snapped off the lights, and Rivers followed after her. The fact that she said her pistol was unloaded didn’t ease his mind, nor did the fact that it was tucked in her pocket or that she may or may not have had a license to carry. He’d learned along the way to never let a person with a weapon out of his sight.

He flipped the lock, then closed the door behind them.

Emma-Mae said, “Next time you all think you want in, you talk to me.” Then she snapped open her umbrella and hurried across the lot toward the only apartment with a light burning in a window.

“So why did you decide to show up now?” Rivers asked Rebecca as the door to the manager’s apartment closed behind her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She eyed him as she walked to her vehicle, a small Ford SUV parked in a visitor spot in the snow-covered lot. Snowflakes caught in her hair, glistening a little in the streetlight. “You?”

“Same thing, I guess. Sometimes a case keeps me awake.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re coming in at eight?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you rather come to the station now?” he asked. “I’m on my way.”

With a shake of her head, she said, “I’ll see you later.” She slipped into her SUV, slammed the door shut, and was driving out of the lot within seconds.

As the taillights of her Ford disappeared through the snow, he walked to his Jeep and got inside, where he stared at the closed door of Megan Travers’s apartment.

His mission here this morning hadn’t accomplished much, certainly not what he’d hoped. No “vibes” telling him what the hell was going on inside Megan Travers’s head on the night she’d disappeared. No special insight.

But maybe he’d gotten something much better by catching her sister off guard. Not cool and composed. Not ready. No neatly conspired answers. Over the years, he’d found that sometimes catching a witness or suspect by surprise was an easier path to the truth than a neatly composed, well-thought-out, and often lawyer-crafted statement.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma-Mae Frost peering through an opening in the curtains. Next to her, seated on the back of a chair near the window, was a massive silver tabby cat, suspicious gold eyes focused on Rivers, his tail twitching.

Rivers slipped into his SUV and headed for a drive-thru coffee kiosk, where he’d pick up a double-shot espresso, then he’d hit the gym before work and try to unravel some of the ever-tightening knots in this damned case.

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 16