“Who’s the girl?”
“I don’t know!”
“But you have an idea. And if you give me a name, I can go from that angle.”
“What’ll you do?” Harley stared at her.
“I’ll check with the mom. Find out what’s going on. See what I can learn. I’m not a cop, I’m just a person, a concerned parent.”
“Mom . . .”
“What?” Jamie was starting to feel impatient.
“Greer said . . . this girl is kind of a thief.”
“Thief, meaning . . . ?”
“She knows how to get into houses where she was a babysitter and steals stuff. She babysat these people with a dog . . . she babysat the dog . . . and after that, she could go in and steal money and booze and stuff. . . .”
“What’s her name?”
Tears filled her eyes. “She’s one of Marissa’s friends. Katie Timbolt. Marissa doesn’t know about her.”
“Harley. The police need to know.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell. You promised!”
“You keep saying that, but it’s not true. Cooper needs to know.”
“You said you’d come at it from another angle!”
“Don’t you see it’s bigger than that?”
Harley turned away from her and ran for the stairs.
“Harley . . .”
“Leave me alone.”
Jamie’s temper began to rise. She forced herself not to chase after her daughter.
* * *
Cooper’s phone rang again as he was waiting for the tech team to arrive to go over the scene for evidence. He was making sure the room wasn’t trampled any further. He saw that the call was from Jamie and was going to press the button to answer when one of River Glen PD’s SUVs pulled up with a squeal of tires and Howie slammed out.
Cooper sent the call to voice mail.
“I was on my way home and got the message. What happened?” Howie asked.
Cooper explained about Bette being attacked, Vicky getting the message and calling 911, and Cooper arriving to see Bette already in the ambulance.
“Was she conscious?” Howie asked.
“Not really. I didn’t get near her. They were working on her.”
“What happened?”
They walked into the house together and looked at the large patch of blood soaked into the living room carpet. Both of them stayed ten feet away. “Any security cameras?” Howie asked.
“No. There’s an alarm system, but it wasn’t activated.”
Howie grunted.
“Victoria Stapleton said Bette said she was being stabbed,” Cooper revealed. “I think we should send someone to the Stapleton house. She was on the edge of hysteria.”
“Want me to go? You got this handled?”
“Yeah, I’m just waiting for the techs.” Their department was too small to have its own crime scene investigators, so they relied on the county to provide the forensic team.
“Okay. I’ll check with you later.”
As soon as he was gone, Cooper listened to the message from Jamie. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she apologized. “Vicky called for your number and I think you might be helping Bette. . . . I just have some other information. When you’re free, call me. Thanks.”
He wondered what that information was. His mind automatically went back to what Dug had said. Was it true, or was it mixed with lies?
The tech team arrived and began setting up. Cooper knew Ray McClane and brought him up-to-date on what he’d learned, which wasn’t a hell of a lot at this point. He then left McClane and his team and headed to Glen Gen where Bette Kearns was in emergency surgery. Her husband had been called and gave them the okay; she’d needed immediate attention. He was on his way to the hospital.
About the time Cooper learned that information, Phil showed up, looking wild-eyed. Spying Cooper, he strode over to stop directly in front of him in the waiting area outside of the OR. “What happened?” he demanded. “What happened?”
Cooper assessed the man carefully, looking for tells. The last time he’d seen Phil was as he was leaving the house, virtually kicked out, his wife screaming at him about his purported affair with another woman, an accusation he hadn’t denied. Spouses had killed over less.
“Bette’s in surgery?” Phil gazed around the room.
“They sent her from ER straight to the OR,” said Cooper.
“What the hell happened?” he asked, his shoulders slumping. He looked like he’d been running on pure adrenaline and had just run out.
“Until we talk to Bette, we won’t know for sure. Victoria Stapleton got a call from her, asking that she call 9-1-1. Bette said she’d been stabbed . . . and that she was dying.”
Phil sank down heavily in the nearest chair. “Oh, God.”
“Phil . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Can you prove where you were at about six-thirty tonight?”
Phil raised dread-filled eyes to Cooper. “You can’t think I had anything to do with this.”
If the man was acting, he was giving an Oscar-worthy performance. “If Bette can identify her attacker, it won’t be necessary. Otherwise, it would just be easiest to cross you off the list.”
“But you don’t think she can identify him.”
“I don’t know yet. It’s usually the first thing out of a victim’s mouth, unless they’re covering for them.”
“I was at my hotel alone,” he said.
“Did you use your cell phone?” Cooper asked, knowing it could help prove where he was by where it was located and to whom he was communicating.
He slowly shook his head. “I was thinking about the kids. How to tell them. Well, Joy obviously already knows, but I was just sitting in my room, not even watching TV.” He looked toward the OR doors. “Who would do this? I don’t understand.” A moment later, Cooper saw him blink as a thought hit him.
“What?” asked Cooper.
“Volker. Meghan’s ex-husband. He still thinks he owns her.”
Bette had remarked that Volker was a jealous ex. “What’s Volker’s first name?”
“Eric.”
Cooper stepped away from Kearns and called Howie. “You at the Stapletons’?”
“Yeah, but they’ve got everything under control. The wife, Victoria, looks sedated. Nice house here. West end, outside of Staffordshire, but old school nice, y’know?”
“Lawrence Stapleton makes money in real estate development. The wife’s a real estate agent,” Cooper said. “Can
