What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(34)

Griff was distracted as a car zoomed past with the windows rolled down and blaring “Jingle Bells.” He slowed, assuming the driver had already been indulging in some pre-Christmas spirits.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

“Are there any other relatives?” he finally asked.

“None that I can remember.” Her tone was deliberately stripped of emotion. Griff got it. He had the same habit. When you were without a family, you pretended that you were happier alone. Sometimes you even believed it. “My mother was an only child,” she added.

Griff nodded. The family seemed like a good place to start. But he wouldn’t let his swelling dislike for an uncle and cousins who didn’t seem to have made an effort to reach out to the orphaned Carmen blind him.

Right now he needed to gather as much intel as possible.

Later he would decide who and what needed to be further investigated.

“What about close friends?” he asked.

“Of my parents?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence as she tried to sort through her childhood memories. He wondered if she had any happy ones. A strange emotion tugged at his heart.

“None that stand out,” she finally announced. “There were a lot of parties and weekends spent at various people’s homes.”

His lips twitched. The life of the rich and powerful.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did you have anyone you spent time with?”

“I had a group of friends from school.”

“Any boys?”

“No.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “I was sent to a private girls’ school.”

Griff felt a stab of relief. That narrowed down the possibilities.

“What about the neighborhood?” he asked. “Any boys who used to hang around more than you wanted?”

Again with the shake of her head. “Our estate was on the edge of town, so there weren’t any close neighbors.”

His brows pulled together as he thought of his childhood in Chicago. With only his mother’s income as a cop, they’d lived in apartments that weren’t in the worst part of the city, but certainly weren’t the best. They’d been crammed next to their neighbors like sardines in a can.

“No kids at all?”

“My cousins on occasion,” she said, then she made a tiny sound. “Oh, and the housekeeper’s son. I’d almost forgotten about Ronnie.”

“You had a housekeeper?”

“Yes.” He could feel her curious glance. Like she didn’t understand how anyone could be surprised they had a servant. “Ellen Hyde.”

“Did she live in?”

She nodded. “Ellen had an apartment above the garage.”

“Was she married?”

She took a minute. “I don’t know if they were married, but there was a man who lived with her,” she finally said. “His first name was Andrew, but it seemed like he had a different last name.”

“Did he work for your parents?”

“Yeah. He helped around the house doing odd jobs. Sometimes he’d drive me to school.”

The unknown servant was put on Griff’s mental list of suspects.

“What about the son?”

“Ronnie?” Her tone was dismissive. “He was usually somewhere around the estate.”

“Were you friends?”

“Not really.”

“Because he was the housekeeper’s son?”

She made a sound of annoyance at his question. “Because he was older than me. And a boy,” she said in sharp tones. Clearly, she didn’t like being accused of being a snob. “He spent a lot more time with my cousins.”

Ronnie went on the suspect list.

“Is there anyone else from your childhood?”

“None.” She flopped back in her seat, clearly done with the conversation. “I’m telling you that going to Louisville is a waste of our time.”

“It’s a place to start,” he said, his attention focusing on the thickening traffic as they neared the suburbs of St. Louis.

He sounded more confident than he felt.

After all, he was clinging to the fact that her name had been written incorrectly on an invoice. He could very well be chasing shadows.

But he did have one comfort no matter what happened.

Carmen wasn’t going to Baltimore.

Not even if he had to drive her all the way to California and lock her in his bedroom.





Chapter Ten


Hunter wasn’t entirely satisfied.

The four women looked perfect. They were all neatly arranged on the basement floor. They all had copies of “The Raven” prominently placed on their chests. They had their hair brushed and were all wearing white robes. They looked like angels that had simply laid down to go to sleep.

The perfect muses.

It wasn’t until a person peeled back the robes that it would be obvious they’d been brutally raped and beaten to death.

Still, the pictures he’d just taken didn’t fully capture the glory of his staging.

Maybe it was the nasty basement. He’d let Slayer locate the row of abandoned homes where they could stash the bodies. It wasn’t until he arrived that he realized they were used by the local drug addicts to smoke their meth. It not only meant the bodies would be found quicker than he wanted, but that the cellar floor was littered with beer cans, used needles, and condoms.