Page 23 of Fate's Crossing

“And I’m guessing she didn’t have the luxury of security cameras?”

Frank huffed. “Not in this part of town. The rent’s cheap for a reason, LT.”

“Right.” Nico looked around again.

No way. There was no way this had anything to do with Sara’s murder. No way the same man who killed her could possibly be here. To even think it was absurd and yet, watching them untie Isabelle Moss’s corpse, lay her down, and finally cover her with a white sheet made the hairs on the back of his neck rise and prickle.

The flash of the forensics camera lit up the room every few seconds, indistinct conversations drifted past like dandelions on the wind as Nico’s ears tuned out the commotion around him.

Not the same, he told himself again, shoving his anxiety down into the deepest, darkest hole he could find, and praying it stayed there.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Nico got the feeling the other men were waiting for him to speak. Turning, he found Frank with bunched brows, and West . . . he couldn’t pinpoint what he saw in the chief’s eyes, but it wasn’t the usual macho peacocking Nico had come to expect. It was something much more somber and uncertain. A touch of concern lingered there too.

Nico cleared his throat. “At the risk of asking a stupid question, is homicide a common occurrence around here?”

They exchanged glances, but it was West who spoke.

“Not for a long time,” he said, moving his gaze to the body. “And never something like this.”

“Any idea who might have done it? This is a small town, and you guys are locals. Tell me something.”

Another loaded glance at each other.

“It is a small town,” Frank agreed. “But not that small.”

“None of us knew her personally,” West added. “We’re starting from scratch here, Nico.”

Something in the way his chief spoke, the way his pleading eyes said what he was obviously too proud to voice out loud—I’m in over my head—had Nico gathering himself and clicking into the zone he went where emotions held no place. A cold, calculating place where he could disconnect from the pain, the suffering, and focus on doing what had to be done. For the victim’s sake.

“Alright.” Nico rubbed his jaw. “We’ll start by canvassing the people she knew. Friends, neighbors, coworkers.”

Frank nodded while West listened silently.

“We’ll need a preliminary report from the ME. Frank”—he pointed over his shoulder—“see what you can find out. They’ll want to do an autopsy, but I want as much information as possible before they leave with the body.”

“On it,” Frank said, already moving.

“So, he came in through the back,” Nico continued, walking the scene, preparing a rough narrative of what might have happened. He did a sweep of the kitchen and living room. Nothing jumped out. Entering the bedroom, he noted that everything appeared to be in its rightful place in here too. No obvious disturbances. He stopped at the doorway to the adjoining en suite. The bathtub was full, though the bubbles had all but dissipated. A plush, pink mat sat on the ground beside it. Even through a latex glove, it was damp to the touch.

“I think this is where she was grabbed,” Nico said.

“How do you figure that?” West asked.

“She’s wearing nothing but a robe. And her hair looks frizzy, like it dried naturally without being combed.” Nico gestured to the untouched towel on the hanger. “She was either in the bath or just stepping out when he came in. She never got the chance to get dressed.”

“How did he get the jump on her? This building is old, and that back door isn’t quiet. Surely, she must have heard something.”

Nico looked around, wondering the same thing. He lowered his head to see underneath the old claw-foot tub that also doubled as a shower space. There, about a foot away, sat a small, white, Bluetooth earbud. Nico reached under to retrieve it and held it up for West to see. “I’m betting we’ll find the other one around here somewhere.”

West went to the small, high window by the toilet and carefully perched himself on the porcelain to see outside. “Looks like the building’s trash cans are all lined up out here.” He stepped back down. “Maybe he used one of them to spy inside, found her in the bath listening to music, took the opportunity to come in unnoticed.”

“Solid theory,” Nico agreed.

“Yeah, okay, but how does he manage to grab her, drag her down the hall, soaking wet, to the kitchen, then tie her up without breaking so much as a table lamp in the process?”

“Good question.” Nico paused, thinking. “Maybe she knew her killer? Didn’t realize she was in danger until it was too late? She might have even answered the door.”

“If that’s the angle we’re working, we’d have to assume it was a romantic relationship. Why else would she be happy walking around the house almost naked?”

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