The Killing Game(92)

“Cricket flour,” Jake said, nodding. “Who knew?”

“Not Trinidad Finch, apparently.”

“And this ex-cop wants to meet with you about that case?”

“Denton. He didn’t say that exactly, but George was being pissy. Practically threw that case at me, too, although he really doesn’t want me to have it. What he wants is someone else to work it, so that he can sit at his desk and do research. I should have him make these calls and just do the legwork.”

“Leave it till tomorrow,” Jake suggested.

She mowed her way through more popcorn, unable to turn her brain off. “I think I’ll go visit the Pattens first thing tomorrow.”

“They’re the ones in Hood River?”

She nodded. “Kitsy said their son’s name is Lance and Tommy Burkey said his friend’s name was Laser, but maybe that’s a nickname Lance used. I’ve tried calling the Burkeys, too, but no one’s picking up my calls there anymore either.” With a wry smile, she added, “I guess I’m persona non grata.”

“You’re a cop. Get used to it.”

“I have.” She took another handful of popcorn, her fingers scraping the bottom of the bowl.

“What about the RV people?”

September slid him a look. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“You’ve been making calls all day and swearing in between them about the RVers, and the Patent Leathers, and two Wrights make a wrong. . . .”

September choked on some popcorn and motioned for Jake to hand her his water bottle, which was on the table beside him. Once he gave it to her, she drank lustily, then cleared her throat, slapping at his arm with the back of her hand. “You made me laugh and I sucked in a kernel. I didn’t say any of that stuff!”

He lifted a brow at her faux outrage.

Rolling her eyes, she admitted, “Okay, maybe I did.”

“Well, I’m just glad you threw your phone down for a while.”

“Me too.”

She handed him back his bottle, then leaned her head on his shoulder and eyed the engagement ring on her finger. “I’ll give it up for a while.”

“Good.”

Ten minutes later her cell rang. Jake groaned, and even September was slow to reach for her phone. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.” She looked at the screen and didn’t recognize the number, though she thought it was slightly familiar. “After this call,” she said, then clicked on and said, “Hello.”

“Is this Detective Rafferty?” a woman asked.

“Yes, it is. Who’s this?”

“It’s Annaloo.”

September blinked, aware that the woman on the other end of the line thought that would mean something to her. Then her brain sharpened. Anna Liu. The daughter of the Asian couple who lived across the street from the Singletons. September had ceased calling her after her frosty voice had told her enough times that her parents didn’t know anything about the bones in the Singletons’ basement.

“Hello, Miss Liu,” she said, straightening up in her position on the couch.

“I know I’ve said over and over that my parents knew nothing about the Singletons, which is still the truth. But recently I’ve learned that they remembered something about a teenage boy who knew them.”

“A teenager who knew the Singletons?” September clarified.

“Yes.”

“What did they remember?” She could feel her pulse start to race.

“That he . . . was cheeky. Impertinent. Flirtatious. Maybe a little entitled.”

September thought about Davinia Singleton’s supposed affair with a teen. “Did they think he was flirtatious with one of the Singletons in particular?”

“I took it to mean that was his overall attitude. They didn’t mention anyone’s name.”

“Did he live on Aurora Lane?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Or that he may have had an addiction problem?”

“I just told you all they said. I thought I’d pass it along.” She was starting to sound impatient again.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. If you have a chance, would you ask your parents if they remember the Patten family? They rented from Mr. Mamet, just down the street. The Pattens had a son named Lance, and they had a horse Lance used to ride in the fields behind their house.”

“I’ll ask them,” she said dubiously.

September hung up and Jake looked at her. “Well?” he asked.

“I need to talk to Lance Patten, so I’m going to Hood River tomorrow to drop in on his parents.”

*

The sound of an approaching vehicle caught Andi’s attention. She was standing in the kitchen in her bathrobe, pouring a glass of red wine for both herself and Luke, who was in his boxers and nothing else when she heard the engine. She glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly nine p.m.

“Late visitors,” Luke observed, walking toward the bedroom, where he’d left his clothes.

Andi followed after him but heard a car door slam and then hurried steps to her front door. The imperious rapping caught her breath, but then she heard, “Andi, it’s me! Open the door.”

Jarrett.

She quickly hurried to the front door to turn the lock and allow him entry. “God, Jarrett, I’ve been calling and calling you!”