Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
She wanted that.
Brandon deserved it. So do I.
“So,” Gavin said after a short pause, and she saw the teasing glint in his eye as he tilted his head and peered at her, “you never looked me up? Not once in eleven years?” He asked the question to ease the tension, she knew, or perhaps to rile her up a bit, and both worked, which caused her to laugh softly.
“My God, you’re still conceited, aren’t you?”
He laughed too. “I was never conceited.”
“You were. Totally full of yourself. I can’t imagine the fan club helped in that regard.”
They both grinned, and for a weighted moment they stared at each other, their smiles fading in tandem. “In all honesty, I did look you up,” Sienna admitted with a shrug and a wave of her hand. “You know, years later. I was proud of you. Happy.” And that was the truth, though it had hurt too.
She stood before he could respond, holding her hand out for his empty water bottle. He handed it to her, and she walked to the kitchen and threw out the trash. When she returned, he was standing. “You’re tired. I should go.”
She nodded. She’d been exhausted before she had arrived home, and she was even more exhausted now, but now it was more than just the physical variety. “Thanks for the dinner. As you saw, the cupboards are basically bare. I would have probably ended up eating spoonfuls of baking soda for dinner.” Or ordering something that she wouldn’t have stayed awake long enough to eat.
“It never has to get to that level of desperation. I’m always good for a pizza delivery when and if you need one.”
There was an awkward pause, and then he moved toward the door and pulled it open.
“Gavin, wait,” she said, and he turned quickly, a look she could only call anticipatory on his face. “Are you available tomorrow if we have some questions regarding that note we found today?”
A flicker of expression, but very brief and unreadable. “Absolutely.” He smiled, turning away again and calling over his shoulder, “You have my number.”
Sienna closed the door and engaged the lock before heading straight for the shower. She was beyond tired, so why did she have a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t going to be able to sleep?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sienna looked up as Kat burst into Ingrid’s office, shaking something in her hand. “The closet,” she said.
“And a good morning to you, Kat,” Ingrid said sarcastically.
Kat gave her a glance accompanied by a fleeting smile as she took the seat next to Sienna. “Did you catch her up?”
Sienna had only arrived about twenty minutes before, and although she and Kat had given Ingrid the gist of what had been discovered at the abandoned house, Sienna had gone through the photos of the evidence, and Ingrid had taken a few minutes to read the latest installment of the note. “I’m up to speed,” Ingrid confirmed.
“Okay, good. Listen, I called the criminalists who are at the house where we found the letter last night and asked them to check under the floorboards in all the closets.”
Sienna’s brow lowered. “The floorboards—” Her eyes opened wider with understanding. “The floorboards in the closet where he said he hid his games from his father.”
“Yes,” Kat said excitedly. “That seemed very specific, right? Something was nagging at me, and so I put on Rachmaninoff in the car on my way here—Piano Concerto Number Two in C Minor does it every time.” She positioned her fingers in the air and moved them dramatically, as if playing the piano while simultaneously using her voice to “sing” the melody, before Ingrid interrupted her.
“Kat, what on earth are you on?”
“Not enough caffeine, that’s for sure. There better be coffee ready. My point is, I needed to clear my mind, and classical genius does that. Anyway”—she waved her hand around—“the criminalists found a bag under the floorboards of the upstairs closet, and one of them is on the way here now so we can check it out.”
“You’re kidding,” Ingrid said, her chair squeaking as she sat back. “What’s the point of toying with us? Because I doubt it’s to get caught.”
“We don’t know.” They went through some of the theories they’d discussed the night before, and Ingrid agreed with their assessment.
“Have you had a chance to call Armando Vitucci and find out if he’s available to give us a profile?” Kat asked, obviously referencing the profiler she’d mentioned.
“Yes,” Ingrid said. “I have a call in to him.”
Kat’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it, standing. “The criminalist is here. I’ll go meet her at the front if you want to clear the meeting room table.”
Sienna and Ingrid walked the short distance to the meeting room, where they’d begun hanging the photos, copies of the writings, and other case-specific items on the board at the front of the room. Sienna had just finished tidying up the random notepads and pens on the table when Kat walked in with a pretty young woman who had been at the first crime scene Sienna had gone to, holding an evidence bag.