pulled back, muttering a curse. “My charger’s in my department car.”
“I’ll catch up with him at the police station.”
“Do you mind if we stop by my house, first, to get another battery? It’s a quick detour. I’d rather avoid another lecture from my captain about keeping equipment up to date.”
“I don’t mind,” she assured him.
She just wanted to get as far away from her house as possible.
DANIEL STARED at the boxes lining the basement shelves. “All that’s mine?”
“Yours, mine, your father’s, your brother’s…” Dinah shrugged. “If I’d only known to organize it, in case you dropped by.”
He slanted a look at his mother, noting her sly smile. Suddenly she didn’t seem nearly as old or fragile as he’d thought when she first opened the door. “Touche.”
“If you tell me what we’re looking for, I’ll help.”
“I’m looking for some old letters from Tina Carter.” Daniel pulled the closest box from the shelf and put it on the table. “Want to see if she mentioned someone in her letters.”
The humor left his mother’s face. She pulled down a second box. “Does this have to do with the Southside killer?”
Daniel looked up, surprised.
“You think I couldn’t guess why you’re here? You’re a profiler. There’s a murderer loose.”
“We have a suspect in the case. Turns out he went to high school with Tina, and had a breakdown the day after her murder.” Daniel riffled through the box in front of him quickly, finding nothing. He reached for another box.
“This looks like something from Tina.” Dinah held up a piece of paper. “There are several in here.”
Daniel took the note from her. She was right; it was from Tina. He took the box from her and handed a stack of the letters to his mother, taking another stack for himself. “Look for the name Jesse Pennington anywhere in the notes.”
She looked reluctant. “Sure you want me to read these?”
He nodded, already scanning another letter.
A few moments later he came across an envelope that was still sealed. The date stamp was April 8.
Five days before Tina’s death.
The faded memory came back to him. He’d received a letter from Tina the afternoon he’d been packing up for a weekend trip home. Since he’d see her in a few hours, he’d tucked the note into his backpack and forgot about it until after her death.
He’d never been able to talk himself into opening it.
Slowly, he slid his finger under the flap and opened the envelope. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out the letter tucked inside and unfolded it.
The first few paragraphs were standard greetings and professions of affection, written in Tina’s neat, girlish script. But a couple of paragraphs down, he saw the name he was looking for.
Jesse Pennington from my psych class won’t stop asking me out. I told him I have a fiance, but he said you’ve probably got a half-dozen girls at Vandy. You don’t, do you?
“Did you find something?” his mother asked. Nodding, he read the rest of it silently.
He’s so intense. I swear, I think he thinks he’s the one I’m supposed to marry or something. Maybe I could introduce you to him this weekend so he’ll know I’m not just making you up.
Daniel stared at the letter, numbness spreading over him in tingly waves.
It was right here. The answer had been right here in Tina’s letter the whole time. If he hadn’t been such a coward, if he’d made himself open the letter and face the guilt and shame, he could have given the police an invaluable clue to the murderer’s identity.
Had Jesse been stalking Tina that night and seen their fight? She’d run off-had he followed? Maybe he’d tried to make his move, been rebuffed and struck out in hurt and rage. Wouldn’t be the first time a broken heart led to a murder.
Daniel picked up his phone and dialed Captain Green’s number. When she answered, he told her what he’d found. “You need to bring Phillips back in for more questioning. Ask him about Tina Carter’s murder.”
“Will do,” Green said.
Daniel hung up and started to fold the letter when the notepaper style suddenly caught his eye. The paper was a bit faded, but the silver butterflies lining the edge of the paper were unmistakable.
It looked like the same paper the killer had used to send his notes to Rose, he realized.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Captain Green. “Me again. Lab have anything yet on the notepaper?”
“Yeah, something just came in.” There was a pause filled with rustling noises. “Yeah, they’ve ID’d the notepaper. Butterfly Symphony, from the Signature Expressions series available by special order about fourteen years ago exclusively from Magic City Paper here in town. The brand was available for two years and then discontinued.”
Special order, Daniel thought, his chest tightening. “What about the cut part of the note?”
“The lab tech notes the original notepaper had a rectangular section at the bottom where the owner’s name would have been printed. Our guy must’ve cut it off because it could identify him in some way.”
Daniel looked down at the notepaper in his hand. There at the bottom was a pale silver rectangle with Tina’s name embossed across it. His heart skipped a beat. “Is Frank Carter there?”
“No,” Captain Green answered. “He left right after we let Phillips go. I’m about to call him to pick up Phillips-you want him to give you a call?”
Daniel’s chest tightened. “Yeah. Do that.” He hung up, his stomach coiling into a knot.
“You think this Jesse person is the Southside killer?”
Daniel’s looked into his mother’s troubled eyes. “I think he killed Tina. But I don’t know if he killed the others.”
“I INHERITED this house from my mother,” Frank told Rose as he led her into the small foyer of the brick bungalow. The house was spotless, the air fragrant with a lemony-clean smell. “She died this past spring.”
Frank led her down a narrow hallway to a room near the back. All the hallway doors were open but one that bore a fading sign tacked into the white painted wood: No Brothers Allowed. Frank gave the door a wide berth as he passed.
The shrine, Rose thought.
They reached a back room, which Frank used as an office. Unlike the rest of the house, this room looked lived in. Papers and bills lay in stacks on the other end of the desk. A touch-tone phone sat at one end-not cordless, Rose noted, but a model from a decade or more ago. The house had frozen in time thirteen years ago. “May I use your phone?” she asked.
“Sure.” Frank started searching one of the drawers.
Rose picked up the phone. There was no dial tone. She toggled the switch hook without luck. “It’s not working.”
Frank looked up. “What?” He took the phone she handed him, rattling the switch hook himself. He frowned. “Old house. When I find a battery, you can use my cell phone.”
Rose sighed and sat in the desk chair. Lightning flashed outside, followed by a rattling boom of thunder that made her jump. Her hand knocked a cardboard box off the desk. It opened when it hit, spilling its contents. Silver- embossed notepaper scattered around her feet.
Her heart stuttered.
“Damn,” Frank murmured behind her. “I wasn’t ready for you to see that.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rose turned to look at Frank, feigning ignorance, even as her heart started galloping. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Frank dropped his gaze to the notepaper on the floor. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but Rose didn’t dare wait
