Page 72 of The Last Close Call

“You need to get down here.”

FIFTEEN

Jack pulled up to the curb and parked behind a black SUV. Bryan could tell it was a police unit from the antennae on the back.

Bryan glanced up and down the block. “You know what this reminds me of?”

Jack shoved his door open. “Evelyn Wood’s neighborhood.”

“Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“They’re all the same.”

Bryan got out and followed Jack up the sidewalk. It was a one-story house with a freshly mowed lawn and a garage that dominated the front. No bikes or skateboards or Big Wheels in the driveway. The lights were on in the front room, but the blinds were closed tight. Other than the one unmarked unit, Bryan saw no other official vehicles.

Jack knocked, and the door swung open almost immediately.

“What took you so long?” a woman whispered. She wore a brown barn jacket and had her hair pulled back in a tight bun.

“Wreck on the interstate,” Jack said. “Heidi, have you met my partner?”

Her glare disappeared as she turned to him.

“Bryan Hunt,” he said with a nod.

“Hi.” Her gaze snapped back to Jack. “They’re in the TV room in back. Here, grab some booties.”

She gestured to a piece of butcher paper on the floor beside the door, and Bryan and Jack stopped to pull paper covers over their shoes. Heidi led them into the dining room, where, at the end of the table, a laptop computer was open beside a coffee mug.

As he left the foyer, Bryan glanced over his shoulder and noticed a hallway, presumably leading to the bedrooms. He heard the murmur of voices and the faint click of a camera.

“Crime scene is still here?” Jack asked. “I didn’t see their van.”

“They’re in an unmarked tonight.”

She led them through a kitchen with a sink full of dishes. It smelled like chicken noodle soup, and Bryan noticed the saucepan on the stove. They passed a kitchen table covered with folded laundry and walked into a TV room.

“Detective Green?” Heidi said. “Mind if we step in?”

“Not at all.” A woman with curly dark hair stood up from her spot at the end of a sofa.

Jack and Heidi moved out of the way, and Bryan got a look at the other sofa, where a young woman sat clutching a man’s hand. The woman had long auburn hair and freckles. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the end of her nose was pink.

The man beside her surged to his feet. He wore business clothes—a dress shirt and slacks—but his hair was mussed. With his short, stocky build and scowling expression, he reminded Bryan of a bulldog.

“How long is this going to take?” he asked, looking from Heidi to the other detective. “She’s tired.”

“I’m fine.”

He turned to his wife. “It’s almost midnight, Maura. You need to—”

“I’m fine.” She reached up and took his hand. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“We’ll try to be quick,” Heidi said pleasantly. “We understand this is hard. Does anyone need a drink? Maybe some water?”

“No,” the man practically growled.

“Jason, how about we step into the other room?” Detective Green suggested. “It might be easier for Maura to get through this with fewer people in here.”

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