In Seconds. Brenda Novak

had a discussion first. If death was the goal from the beginning, there’d be no reason to pretend to be a prospective renter. Not once the killer got inside the house anyway.”

      “So you’re suggesting he knew his attacker,” Jared responded.

      Which was why Jared kept going back to Pat’s family. “There are holes in that theory, too,” Myles said. “Anyone who showed up here intending to kill would bring a weapon. This offender used some sort of blunt object. To me, that suggests he grabbed whatever was close at hand.” Myles wasn’t sure what that was. A rock? Part of a tree branch? A hammer? He was relying on the autopsy to reveal more about the wounds Pat had sustained and what could’ve caused them.

      “But if the murder resulted from a spontaneous act, a sudden flare of temper, why couldn’t Delbert be our man?”

      “He could. Except that Pat wouldn’t have driven over here to meet Delbert. What would be the point?”

      “Delbert could’ve lured him here under false pretenses.”

      “We just established that this wasn’t a planned killing. The evidence doesn’t support it.”

      Jared scratched his chin. “Do you know how hard it is to solve a truly random crime, with no eyewitnesses? If our offender was a visitor to the area, we might never narrow it down.”

      “Exactly what I’m afraid of.”

      Putting his pad in his coat pocket, Jared turned to leave.

      “Where are you going?” Myles asked him.

      “I’m meeting Linda at the Golden Griddle.”

      Linda Gardiner was the other investigator Myles had assigned to the case.

      “We’re hoping to come up with a list of people who used the pay phone yesterday when Pat received that call,” Jared went on.

      The Golden Griddle was across the street from the bar. Anyone there would have a clear view of the pay phone—if he or she happened to look. But that restaurant only served breakfast. “It closes at one. The call came in shortly after two.”

      “True, but it takes the waitresses an hour or so to clean up. If we’re lucky, one of them saw someone at that pay phone while she was getting into her car and can at least give us a description.”

      If we’re lucky. What if they weren’t?

      They’d have nothing but a body.

      5

      Heartbroken, Vivian gaped at the screen.

      “Mommy?”

      She could hear her daughter calling her but Mia’s voice sounded small and tinny, as if it came through the dark tunnel of a dream. Vivian didn’t react, couldn’t react. She was frozen in time and space. It wasn’t until her daughter came up and tapped her arm that she was able to blink and look away. And then the many years of practice she’d had hiding her fear and disappointment from her children came to her rescue, and she managed to conceal her reaction to what she’d just read. “Yes?”

      Mia’s eyebrows knotted. “Why wouldn’t you answer?”

      “I was concentrating on something else.” She wondered if Mia was getting old enough to see through her smile. She would at some point, wouldn’t she? Vivian was screaming inside: This isn’t fair! Not again! Not Rex!

      “Oh.” With a shrug of her thin shoulders, Mia let it go. Nothing bothered her for long. “Watch me, okay? I’ll show you my new dance.”

      Mia was taking ballet lessons and, much to Jake’s chagrin, she often made up her own routines and insisted on performing them, even in public.

      Vivian schooled her features into a pleasant expression as Mia leaped and twirled. No music played, but that didn’t diminish Mia’s enthusiasm. She danced just to move and she did it whenever the mood struck her. Costumes were more important to her than music, but this morning she hadn’t bothered to change into the tutu she sometimes wore all day.

      Vivian believed her daughter had real talent, but ballet was far from her thoughts right now. The terror that’d begun to advance on her when she heard about Pat’s murder raced up to smack her right in the face as the meaning of what she’d just read went through her mind.

      Rex is missing…Rex is missing…Rex is missing…

      Where? How? Was he dead?

      No, that couldn’t be. She was still in love with him. Maybe. Or maybe she only wished for what could’ve been. Even if her feelings weren’t quite that strong—even if desperation, familiarity and the need for a safe harbor had brought them together in the first place—he’d been a good friend and a talented lover, relief from the loneliness that had plagued her both before and after their breakup.

      “Do you like it, Mommy?” Mia sang out.

      Vivian’s face ached with the effort of maintaining her smile. “Of course. It’s beautiful.”

      Beaming at the compliment, Mia lengthened her performance by stringing other routines together, ones she’d been taught in class that Vivian easily recognized. “Aren’t you going to clap?”

      Vivian dutifully brought her hands together.

      When, at last exhausted, her daughter finished, Vivian clapped again. “Bravo!” she cheered, but trying to staunch her tears only caused the lump in her throat to swell.

      Fortunately, Mia seemed satisfied. She ran off to change and brush her teeth, leaving Vivian alone to deal with Virgil’s news.

      Propping her chin on her fist, she returned to the computer. What could’ve happened to Rex? Virgil had given her very little information.

      Hey, I hate to tell you this, but Rex is missing. Two weeks ago, he mentioned going to Los Angeles to see a woman he met on the internet. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. He took off on his motorcycle.

      Vivian didn’t have to wonder how he got off work. From what she’d heard, he was still doing jobs here or there for Virgil but was no longer a partner in their bodyguard company. He’d talked Virgil into buying him out shortly after they moved to Buffalo and had been burning through the money ever since.

      I probably wouldn’t be so worried except that every time I call his cell, it goes straight to voice mail. I haven’t been able to reach him since the day after he left. And I know he wasn’t planning on being gone this long. I have a job coming up—told him he could have it. Lord knows he needs the money.

      Apparently he wasn’t still burning through the money. He’d already finished it. She’d figured it was just a matter of time.

      I’ve reported his absence to the police. They’re doing what they can, but I doubt he’s a priority. They’re searching for him as Wesley Alderman; I couldn’t give away his true identity without adding more risk. I didn’t see how it would help, anyway, to divulge the past. He obviously made arrangements to be gone, so they feel he might merely be delayed. And they have other cases they consider more urgent.

      So what did this mean? Now that he was broke, had he returned to The Crew, where he could get an endless supply of the OxyContin he craved?

      He’d die before he’d give either of us up. I just don’t know if we can count on him staying off the pills. And that could change the situation. He hasn’t done well since you left. Anyway, I had to warn you.

      He’d never done drugs when she was with him. But she’d known they were a big part of his past. Drugs were epidemic to the gang culture he’d embraced at one time. And now he was back at it.

      I’ll let you know if anything changes. Keep your eyes open.

      V.

      Vivian’s gaze strayed from the screen to the