Tina had been killed the night of April 13th. “Maybe. Did Phillips say what caused his breakdown?”
“School pressures-he was having trouble in college.”
“Did he mention a girlfriend-a bad breakup or anything like that?”
“No. He was pretty vague about it.”
“What college? Maybe he spoke to a counselor there.”
“U.A.B.”
Same as Tina, Daniel thought. Might be significant. Had Tina ever told him about someone named Jesse Pennington? He couldn’t remember. While he was away at college, they’d mostly corresponded by mail. She hadn’t wanted to run up a big phone bill with her family on a limited income.
Had she mentioned Jesse’s name in any of her notes to him?
“I need to check on something.” He waved the sheet of paper at Captain Green. “Can I get a copy of this for my file?”
“Sure.” She frowned. “Does it mean something to you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m about to find out.”
ROSE STARED at the shimmer over her reflection, trying to convince herself she was imagining it. But the streaks of crimson bleeding through the silver remained no matter how hard she blinked her eyes.
Outside, the weather had worsened, wind rattling her rain-streaked windowpanes. A flash of lightning strobed the sky, lighting up her bedroom as she scrambled for the phone on her bedside table. She picked up the receiver.
There was no dial tone.
She turned on the bedside lamp. Warm yellow light spread across the darkened room. She slumped on the side of her bed. At least, she wasn’t stuck without a phone in a darkened house.
She dressed quickly in jeans and a cashmere pullover. The soft sweater was warm and soft against her damp skin, easing some of the shivers rattling through her.
But not all of them.
She forced herself to check the dresser mirror. The death veil remained. What did it mean? Was Jesse Phillips not the killer, after all?
Daniel would know, she realized. Where was her cell phone? Mentally she retraced her steps. She’d had it when she came in with Lily-and put it on the kitchen counter.
The moan of the wind followed her to the staircase, howling around the eaves. Halfway down, the lights went off, the ambient hum of electricity dying away. Rose detoured to the front door, peering through the glass side pane. The streetlamps were dark. The whole block was without power.
Perversely, seeing evidence of the power outage made her feel marginally better as she felt her way along the hall to the kitchen. At least, she could stop worrying that someone outside had cut her power. Relaxing, she stepped through the doorway.
And froze.
The back door stood wide-open, rain slanting inside.
Rose went utterly still, listening. Wind moaned through the trees outside, rain clattering against the concrete patio. She heard nothing else, save her own harsh breathing and the rapid-fire pulse in her ears.
She edged toward the counter where she’d left her cell phone. Minimal light flowed in through the open door, barely enough to make out the pale granite countertop. She felt her way along the counter, fingers flexing in search of the phone.
It wasn’t there.
No time to look for it. She had to get out now. Where were her car keys?
She’d left her purse on one of the kitchen chairs, she remembered. She padded silently to the other side of the room and groped for the chair. Her hand tangled in her purse strap.
Then she heard the front door open.
Her fingers went numb, the purse sliding from her grasp. Panic blackened the edges of her vision.
Someone was in the house.
DANIEL TURNED OFF Clairmont Avenue and headed up the hill past the Lakeview Golf Course, his headlights bouncing off the driving rain. As he turned left onto his mother’s street, he tried Rose’s cell phone again. Still no answer. Her home phone wasn’t working, either. He told himself it was the storm.
He almost believed it.
The two-story brick house had been his childhood home. He parked in front and sat for a moment, staring up at the familiar facade. He hadn’t been back since his dad’s funeral, he realized. What kind of son would let so much time pass between visits with his mother?
Pushing himself out of the car, he raced through the rain up the front walk and rang the bell.
Footsteps approached and the porch light came on. A moment later the front door opened. His mother stood in the entrance, older and frailer than he remembered.
“Hi, Mom.”
Dinah Hartman stepped back to let him in. “What’s wrong?”
He stared at her a moment, shamed by the question. That she’d think something had to be wrong for him to visit-
Except, that was exactly the case, wasn’t it?
He started to give her a hug, then realized his suit jacket was dripping wet. He settled for kissing her cheek. The soft powder scent of her brought back an overwhelming rush of memories. He pushed them away before they paralyzed him. “Nothing’s wrong. Least, I hope not.”
He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it toward the coatrack, which had stood in the foyer as long as he could remember. It fell to the floor.
“I moved the coatrack,” Dinah Hartman murmured, picking up the jacket. She folded it and draped it over the new hall table. “Been in town long?”
“A few weeks,” he admitted, hating the look of resignation in her eyes. “Should’ve called earlier.”
“Yes, you should’ve.” She started toward the living room.
He caught her arm. “Actually, I need to know where you stored all my old stuff.”
ROSE CROUCHED AND GRABBED for the purse she’d dropped, moaning as some of the contents spilled to the floor. Ignoring the mess, she felt for the keys. They rattled under her fingers, sending terror jolting through her. Had he heard?
She grabbed the keys and scrambled out the back door, sprinting through the sheeting rain. Something loomed out of the darkness, right into her path. She hit a solid wall of denim and leather. A pair of hands curled around her arms, pinning her in place. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Shh, it’s me.” Frank Carter’s voice, low and tense, froze the breath in her lungs. “Is he in there?”
Rose blinked away the rain stinging her eyes. “I don’t know. I locked the back door, but it was open, and I heard the front door open and shut-”
“We let Phillips go. I was following him but he shook my tail. I came here on a hunch.” Frank motioned toward the alley and handed Rose a set of keys. He pulled a gun from a holster hidden inside his leather jacket. “Get in my car and lock it. I’ll check your house.”
Rose hesitated, not sure she was ready to be alone, even in a locked car. But Frank was already moving toward the house.
Rose scurried up the steps and unlocked the sedan parked behind her Chevy. She slid into the passenger seat, locked all the doors and slumped low in the seat, shivering.
Movement in her backyard caught her gaze. Frank was coming up the steps toward the car. His gun was in its holster; he obviously hadn’t found anyone inside. She let him in, handing over the keys.
“I found signs of breaking and entering, but he’s gone. I’ll send a squad car out when we get to H.Q.”
“Can’t you call it in on the radio?”
“I’m off duty. I don’t have a radio in my personal car.”
“Can I use your cell phone? I need to call Daniel.”
“Sure.” He handed over his phone and started the car.
She punched the on button but nothing happened. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Frank took the phone from her and gave it a try. “Piece of crap battery.” He leaned toward the glove box but
