Her Last Word

His gaze dropped to the dried pool of blood and a discarded gauze pad stained red. The blood was Kaitlin’s.

Anger rolled through him as he thought about her lying here clinging to her life.

When Adler had received the text from Novak about her stabbing, he’d driven directly to the hospital. His badge had gotten him onto her floor and access to her doctor, who’d told him the assailant’s knife had missed all the major organs but had nicked an artery. A few more minutes and she’d have bled out.

The doctor’s assessment reminded him of conversations he’d had with Logan’s doctors after the explosion. They’d said because Adler had used his belt as a tourniquet to bind his partner’s left leg, he’d bought Logan the critical minutes that saved his life.

Kaitlin and Logan were fighters, tenacious and driven. And although neither thought of themselves as defenseless, that’s what they were just now, and it was up to him to protect them both.

The sound of footsteps on the front porch sent his hand to his weapon as he turned to see Quinn. She wore jeans, a white blouse, a tailored black jacket, and midheeled boots.

He lowered his hand.

“Adler,” Quinn said. “I heard you were headed this way. Thought you could use a second set of eyes.”

“There’s not much to see.”

She tugged on latex gloves, stepped around the pool of blood, and moved past the two-story foyer into the living room and the bank of French doors that overlooked woods. “Pretty nice home.”

“Brad Crowley does well for himself. He’s a plastic surgeon who’s made a name doing nip and tucks.”

“Does Erika work?” she asked.

“She’s a homemaker.”

Quinn moved back toward him and studied the bloodstain. “I talked to a buddy of mine in county police. The security cameras across the street recorded Kaitlin visiting Erika on Friday morning.”

“That’s what she told me.”

“So she’s awake?”

“As of an hour ago. I just came from the hospital.”

“Can she identify her attacker?”

“No. And she was wiped out when I left.”

Quinn’s jaw tightened as she shook her head. “So, what’s the deal with her? Her name keeps coming up.”

“She’s at the center of all this. Her podcast project was likely a trigger for someone who doesn’t want her digging up the past. If I had any doubts about Jennifer’s death being connected to Gina’s, I don’t anymore.”

“I thought Hayward said he could lead you to Gina?” Quinn asked.

“He says he will as soon as his attorney gets the plea agreement in writing. That should happen early next week.”

“He couldn’t have killed Jennifer.”

“Agreed.”

“Could he have collaborated with someone? Maybe an accomplice knew what happened to Gina and was willing to kill to protect it. Maybe Jennifer wasn’t just an innocent victim?”

“I’ve asked myself all these questions,” Adler said.

“How about this one. Ever stop to wonder if Hayward is working with Kaitlin? Maybe he used her to broker the deal with you and Ricker.”

“That’s possible.”

Quinn rested her hands on her hips. “I hear a but.”

“I think Hayward enjoys hurting Kaitlin, and when she contacted him at the jail, she gave him the perfect opening to do just that,” Adler said.

“You think he’s lying about Gina and this is all a sick joke to him?” Quinn asked.

“It’s a real possibility, but I think he does know where Gina is, and he wants Kaitlin to have a front-row seat at the big reveal,” Adler said.

“Kaitlin broke up with Hayward, correct?” Quinn asked.

“So she says.”

“It’s been fourteen years.”

“Maybe he still feels possessive toward her.”

“Possessive goes hand in hand with anger. If he can’t have her, he’ll go out of his way to hurt her.”

Adler nodded. “He must know whatever information he has will hurt her.”

“Or, playing devil’s advocate, she still has a thing for him and she’s using you to plead his case. What’re the chances he’d have any kind of deal without her?”

As tempted as Adler was to reject Quinn’s idea outright, he couldn’t. “She didn’t stab herself.”

“Allegedly,” Quinn responded.

Adler was silent. Quinn was asking all the right questions, but his gut told him Kaitlin was a victim. However, gut feelings weren’t proof. “Any word on Erika or Brad Crowley’s whereabouts?”

“According to my buddy in county police, nowhere to be found. No activity on their credit cards or cells. GPS on Erika Crowley’s car led the county detective to a gas station parking lot on Route 1.”

“That’s not the burbs. What was she doing there?” Adler asked.

“Good question. Normally on Saturdays she takes a yoga class. But she didn’t show up to class yesterday. Seems for a couple of months Erika has been parking at the yoga studio but skipping the Saturday-morning class and heading across the street for coffee.”

“Is she meeting someone?” Adler asked.

“The studio owner didn’t know.”

“We need to look at that car. And visit that coffee shop.”

“Agreed,” Quinn said.

“The county detectives are digging into the Crowleys’ financials?” he asked.

“They’ve requested a warrant.”

“What kind of car does Brad Crowley drive?” Adler asked.

Pages in her notebook flipped. “Crowley drives a Lamborghini. And currently it’s parked at a hotel in the city. He’s registered there, but he isn’t on the premises now.”

“Why’s he at a hotel?” Adler asked.

“Apparently he spent a lot of time there in the last year. I spoke to his office, and he’s supposed to be attending a conference in northern Virginia for a few more days. He’s not answering his phone.”

“Just because the car is in Richmond doesn’t mean he’s not at the conference.”

“My buddy is trying to confirm that,” Quinn said.

Adler stepped around the bloodstain and moved into the center room. His gaze was drawn to the vaulted ceiling, the stone fireplace, and the sleek leather furniture. The Crowleys lived well and had spared no expense. Status mattered to them.

He moved to a grand piano sporting a collection of pictures featuring a beautiful blonde and a dark, muscled man. Most looked like they were taken at exotic locations.

“Which neighbor said they heard the alarm and called it in?” Adler asked.

Quinn nodded. “Across the street. Mrs. Nolan.”

“Let’s pay her a visit.”

He locked the door behind them and looked toward the yellow colonial. A woman was coming out her front door with a heavy purse slung over her shoulder. They moved across the street and met her at her mailbox.

“Mrs. Nolan?” he asked.

The woman stood a little straighter and looked side to side as if she weren’t sure about him.

Adler held up his badge. “I’m Detective John Adler, and this is my partner, Detective Quinn. Mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Uh, sure. I already spoke to the police.”

Adler smiled. “Just a few more questions, Mrs. Nolan.”

“Okay.”

He jabbed his thumb toward the Crowley house. “Mrs. Nolan, I understand you’re the one who called 911.”

“I am. I heard a loud alarm go off as I was walking past with my dog. Like I said, I already told all this to the detective.”

“I’m with the city and working on a case that’s possibly related to this one. I appreciate your patience.”

“Sure.” She shifted her stance.

“What did you see?”

“I saw that woman go inside. She had a rough edge about her and didn’t belong here, so Buster, my miniature dachshund, and I lingered.”

“

How long was she inside the house before the alarm went off?”

“A minute tops. Like I said, I stayed outside the house and watched because I wasn’t sure what she was up to. She came by the other day and visited with Erika, who did not look happy about it.”

“And when you heard the alarm, you called the police?” Quinn asked.

“Yes. I always carry a phone. You never know even in the good neighborhoods.”

“Did you see anyone else coming or going from the house?”

“I thought I saw a man run through the woods behind the house, but I didn’t get a good look.”

“Can you tell me anything about him?”

“Medium height and build. He had one of those hoodie things over his head. How is the woman doing? I understand she was stabbed.”

“She’s going to be fine.”