The Bitter Season (Kovac and Liska, #5)(66)

“I liked her. She was quiet, and she was nice to us. She liked to read, too,” she recalled. “She would read to me sometimes,” she admitted, smiling a little at that one small fond memory. “I loved to be read to, but I was supposedly too big to be read to, so I never asked my mom to do it. She didn’t have time anyway. I was the one who read to my little sister and brother at night.”

“And then Angie would read to you?”

“She would sneak into my room, or I would sneak into hers, and we would curl up in bed and take turns reading out loud.”

Her expression changed slowly as she looked inward. A happy memory was slowly overtaken by one not so pleasant, like a cloud passing over the sun.

“Anyway . . . I should be getting back to work,” she said, pulling herself away from the dark thought.

“Angie wasn’t there when your father was shot,” Nikki said, pressing forward. “Do you remember where she was?”

“No,” she said, gathering her purse and pushing her chair back. “Something at school. Really, I need to get back to work.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Nikki said. “I’m parked on Marshall.”

Jennifer Duffy didn’t look happy about having to spend another three minutes with her. They went back out into the damp. The librarian set a brisk pace.

“It must have been hard for you,” Nikki said. “Losing your dad and then losing your surrogate big sister. Did you stay in touch with Angie after she left?”

“No. I never knew where she went. No one would tell me.”

“Do you remember the kid that lived next door? Jeremy Nilsen? He mowed your grass.”

“He was in high school.”

“I know. So was Angie. They must have known one another. Were they friends?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said curtly as she pulled open the library’s outer door. “And I really don’t see the point of this. How could it matter? I have to go back to work. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Thank you for your time,” Nikki said as the glass door closed in front of her. “And you would know,” she murmured, watching Jennifer Duffy disappear into the library. “That is the point.”





20


“I don’t understand why I can’t come in,” Charlie Chamberlain said stubbornly.

They stood in the drizzle on the front walk of the house: Charlie, Diana, Ken Sato, Kovac, and Taylor. Kovac had purposely made sure that Charlie knew the time they would be meeting, in the hope he would turn up, despite the fact he had been told not to come. Kovac did so for the express purpose of literally shutting the kid out. If Charlie Chamberlain didn’t want his sister left alone with the cops, it was worth messing with him to find out why.

“I told you, kid,” Kovac said curtly. “I can’t have people wandering around the crime scene. We’re here for two reasons. One, so I can walk through the collection with Professor Sato, and two, so your sister can look over your mother’s jewelry with my partner. I don’t need a third wheel here.”

“I have a DVD of the collection,” Chamberlain said, pulling a plastic DVD case out of the patch pocket of his rain jacket. Mr. Helpful. “I stopped by the attorney’s office to talk about making funeral arrangements, and I remembered he had a copy—”

Kovac took the case and handed it to Taylor like he couldn’t be bothered with it. “Thanks, that’s great. You can go now.”

“This is my home,” Chamberlain argued. “I have as much right to be in it as anyone.”

“No,” Kovac snapped. “This is my crime scene until I say it isn’t, and you don’t have any rights here until I say you do. That’s how this works. Now, I’d like to get out of this filthy weather before pneumonia sets in, so . . .”

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Sato said. “It’s all fine.”

Sato went to put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. Charlie Chamberlain shrugged him off, shooting Sato a look that could have cut glass. “Nothing is fine. No part of any of this is fine, Ken.”

“Oh my God, Charlie,” Diana said impatiently. “Why don’t you just shut the f*ck up and go do whatever it is you do when you’re not butting into my life.”

“Oh yeah, this is all about you, Diana,” Charlie bit back. “Our parents are dead.”

She rolled her eyes like a teenager.

Kovac resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. Something had shifted in the dynamic between the siblings since that morning, when they clung to each other, crying over their mutual grief. He caught Taylor’s eye and knew he was making note of it as well.

“And unless you know something the rest of us don’t,” Kovac said, “Detective Taylor and I are in charge of solving their murders. Do you have something to contribute to that conversation, Charlie?”

The kid huffed and looked away and back, shoving his clenched fists into his jacket pockets as he struggled with his temper. “No. I would just like to see for myself the state of the house.”

“We’re not pocketing the silverware, if that’s what you think.”

“I’ll video,” Diana said and walked up the steps, dismissing him.

Kovac made a show of relenting. “Look, kid, go sit in your car if you’ve got time. I’ll walk you through when we’re done.”