“What about someone in your family? Have any of them been the victim of a crime?”
“No.” She sucked in a breath and dropped her hand. “Oh, no. How could I have missed it? I’m not the only cop in the family. My father…he died fifteen years ago, but he was a detective with the sheriff’s office. Maybe this isn’t about me. At least, not directly.”
Weston’s mouth flattened. “Maybe it’s about him.”
Three
Murder required patience.
The Chessmaster glanced over his shoulder. No one was in the hall. He ducked inside the classroom, careful to pull the blinds and keep the lights out. Most people were oblivious to their surroundings. He used that to his advantage.
On soft-soled shoes, he moved across the room toward the large bank of windows on the opposite side. Dusk had painted the campus with muted colors of blue and pink. The Chessmaster pulled a small set of binoculars from his pocket. He raised them, focusing on the Harrison University Police Department across the street, zeroing in on the third window from the left.
Avery Madison sat at her desk. Inside his gloves, the Chessmaster’s fingers twitched. Rage churned his stomach and heated his blood. He longed to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze the very breath from her. To watch the life drain from her eyes.
Not yet.
The Chessmaster took a deep breath. Patience. It was what separated the masters from the fools. Recklessness, poor attention to detail, selecting the wrong moment—these are what landed a man in jail. He did not make mistakes. No, he was vigilant and precise. Chess had taught him that. To strategize, to counter, to weigh his options and strike when the moment was right. Soon…soon Avery would know him.
More importantly, she would fear him.
He turned his binoculars to the large man in the visitor’s chair. A glint of something pinned to the man’s chest caught his eye, and he focused on it. A Texas Ranger’s badge. Ahhh, Avery had called in the calvary, just as he’d anticipated. The Chessmaster shifted his attention to the man’s face. No, it wasn’t Luke Tatum. This man he’d never seen before. Never mind. The effect was the same. Avery had countered his move.
Time to advance the game.
Four
Avery adjusted the cool cloth on her forehead. Her headache from earlier was almost gone. Shadows stretched across her living room as the late afternoon gave way to evening. Cooper, her dog, placed his head on her lap and sighed. His fur was mostly white save for several large brown patches—one over each eye and another placed crookedly on his back.
She stroked his forehead. “Sorry we didn’t get to go to the park today, but your mom had to work. I left you a bone. And there were squirrels to watch from the window.”
His eyebrows shifted, and he gave another sigh. She’d adopted Cooper from the shelter shortly after moving to Union County. He was roughly five years old with all the attitude of a teenager and a propensity for chewing on shoes. Avery adored him.
“Fine.” She scratched behind his ears. “Today wasn’t great. But it wasn’t for me either. I had to sit with a Texas Ranger for hours, answering a million questions about my life, searching for any possible reason a killer might’ve left a note for me.”
They hadn’t come up with anything. Which brought Avery right back to her father. Kenneth Madison had been an exemplary police officer, decorated several times for his service. The idea that one of the criminals he’d put away had circled back around to hurt her was unsettling.
Avery removed the cold cloth from her forehead and reached for the framed photograph on the end table. In the picture, Avery and her dad were sitting on the front porch swing. Kenneth was caught midlaugh, his smile wide and eyes twinkling. A faint hint of gray touched the hair at his temples. His arm was wrapped around Avery’s shoulders. The love and adoration between them was captured in that one perfect moment.
Her grandmother had taken the photograph surreptitiously, and it was one of Avery’s favorites. She’d been seventeen at the time. Her father died just a few months after the picture had been taken. Avery missed him every day.
Cooper shifted closer as if sensing her sadness and gently licked her hand. She stroked his head. “Thanks, Cooper. Love you too.”
Her cell phone rang. It was her sister, Savannah. Avery answered. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey. I’m checking on you. Nana’s made enough chili for the entire town. There’s also cornbread and chocolate cake. Please tell me you’re still coming to dinner.”
Avery chuckled. Her grandmother had a tendency to go overboard for Sunday dinner. “There’s no way I’d pass up Nana’s chili. Set a place for me.”
“Will do.”
She grabbed the photograph, intending to return it to the end table, but paused. Avery’s father had been a disciplined detective and meticulous notetaker. Every case he worked started with handwritten impressions, which were memorialized later into written police reports. “Hey, Savannah, do you know if Nana still has those notebooks Dad used for work?”
“I’d have to look in the attic to be sure, but I’m almost positive Nana threw them out years ago. I found a few of Dad’s coats in the upstairs closet. There was a notebook tucked in the pocket of one, but I tossed it.”
Her heart sank. “What about the coats?”
“We sold them at the church garage sale. Why are you asking for Dad’s notebooks?”
Avery hesitated. “It’s for a case.”
“Is this about the murder at the university—” Savannah stopped and then huffed out a breath. “Nope. Forget I asked. Active investigation. You can’t tell me
