I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(90)

“So, like, you think the murders are connected?”

“Seems a little odd, don’t you think? Two sisters murdered?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her phone dinged with another text, and she dropped her gaze again to the screen.

“If you show me the house, think of the stories you can share with your colleagues and on social media.”

Romi looked up and then shrugged. “I’m here, so I might as well show you around.”

“That would be great.”

“So, what are you looking for?” Romi knelt by a locked box by the door, punched in a key code, and then removed a key.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Nikki said.

Romi unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The air in the house was thick, stale, and hot. “We turned the AC off to save money.”

Nikki’s shoes clicked on the clean, polished floors as she moved to the middle of the empty living room. She glanced down the hallway toward several doors, remembering what Rose had told her. “Do you have any idea which room belonged to Marsha?”

“You’d know better than me.”

“I never was allowed in the house. Her parents weren’t fond of the media.”

“It’s a three-bedroom house,” Romi said. “Can’t be too hard to figure out.”

“True.” Nikki moved down the center hallway and stopped in the first bedroom. Opening the closet, she checked the floor and the baseboards, but all were affixed firmly in place. She repeated the process in the next room and found nothing. When she entered the third, she was again reminded of empty vaults and fools’ errands. Still, her body hummed with excitement.

In the final bedroom closet, Nikki knelt and ran her hands over the floor and the baseboards. The wood was smooth, but as she came around the last side, she noticed a small ridge. Looking closer, she saw the tiny seam. She removed a small multitool from her purse and worked it behind a baseboard that had likely been painted over several times since the Prince family lived here.

“What are you doing?” Romi asked, her patience with this adventure thinning.

“I’m not sure.” Nikki could sympathize. This entire adventure felt bogus. But still, she kept pulling on the section of wood.

“This is getting a little weird,” Romi said.

And then the wood gave way, and she saw the opening beneath it. After grabbing a small flashlight from her purse, she shined it inside the small dark hole.

The shifting of feet told her Romi had leaned forward, intrigued.

When Nikki initially did not see anything, she pushed her hand into the darkness.

“You’re going to put your hand in there?” Romi asked.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Nasty.”

Nikki opened the video app on her phone. “Can you do me a favor and tape this?”

“Sure, why not?”

For the camera shot, Nikki started the process over. She first tugged on latex gloves and inserted her hand through the opening. Her fingertips slid against the subfloor coated with grease and dirt from five decades. She’d been at the top of her game five months ago, and here she was, rooting on her hands and knees with a hand shoved in a black hole up to her forearm. Oh, how the mighty did fall.

At the very back, she felt a plastic bag filled with what appeared to be paper.

Removing the packet, she felt a sense of triumph. She had just taken another big step toward reclaiming the life she had. She looked up into the camera to make sure Romi was getting this.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the cops? This could be some kind of evidence.”

“I’m calling them as soon as I open it.” She pulled out the pile of banded papers and looked at the first page. Blood rushed to her head, and she absorbed what she was reading. “Holy shit.”



Vaughan and Spencer met Hughes in her office, and she had already prepared several surveillance clips for them to see. She downed the last of her coffee and looked up at them, her green eyes bloodshot.

“Don’t you two look chipper,” Hughes said. “Must be nice getting some sleep.”

“Don’t be hatin’, Hughes,” Vaughan said with a grin.

Her chair squeaked as she leaned back. “Yours truly has been up all night long reviewing video footage from multiple surveillance cameras. I’m amazed at all the cameras out there that are always watching.”

“What about Jason Dalton and the garage surveillance footage?” Spencer asked. “Do the recordings back up his story?”

“I did have a look at them all, and he was exactly where he said he was, working at the garage,” Hughes said.

“Meaning he could not have been the one who killed Hadley Foster,” Spencer said.

“Not unless he can teleport,” Hughes said. “I thought Foster said he killed his wife?”

“He’s sobered up now and not talking to us,” Vaughan said.

Hughes leaned back and grinned. “Then ask me what else I saw in the tapes.”

“I can tell by your expression, Hughes, that you found something,” Vaughan said.

“Let’s start with Veronica Manchester.” Hughes leaned forward, pushing aside several empty snack-size potato chip bags, and opened a file on her desktop. “This video surveillance follows the trail of Veronica Manchester’s last few days.”