Page 75 of Finding Forever

I frowned. “No one told me the FBI was involved in the case.”

“Until two days ago, we had a minor role to play. But there’s been a significant development in the case.”

I raced to the living room and grabbed my cell phone. On the way back to the kitchen, I tapped out a message to Eric.

“Riley? Are you still there?”

I hoped Eric saw the message and replied. “You need to show me some identification.”

“I’ll hold my badge against the window.”

I looked at my cell phone again. Still no reply. I sent a quick message to Alex, then peered at the badge pressed against the glass. It seemed real, but for all I knew, it could be a fake.

“I understand your reluctance to unlock the door. Would it help if I gave you the phone number of the special agent in charge of our field office? He can verify my identity.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Special Agent McDonald rattled off a number. The man I spoke to confirmed that the special agent at my door worked for the FBI. After I ended the call, I checked my messages. Still nothing from Eric or Alex.

“Are you able to come back later when Eric Lanigan’s here?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. If you’re worried about Mr. Lanigan not knowing what’s happening, Detective Jameson’s showing him the new evidence.”

That made sense. Eric wouldn’t deliberately ignore my text, especially when I was on my own. “Just a minute.”

I made sure the special agent had moved away from the window before slipping a small knife into my pocket. I didn’t care if he was with the FBI or the King of Siam. I needed to protect myself and, without a gun, a knife was the next best thing.

I opened the door and held out my hand. “I’m Riley Murphy.”

The FBI agent’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be.”

I had no idea what difference that made. “What do you mean?”

“When I read you were a world-renowned artist, I thought you’d be older.”

“I had some lucky breaks.” I moved toward the kitchen counter, keeping as much distance between us as I could. Special Agent McDonald was about ten years older than me. Time hadn’t been kind to his five-foot-eight, overweight body.

I pointed to one of the chairs pushed against the kitchen table. “Have a seat. I don’t have a lot of time, so if you could ask your questions, that would be great.”

“I appreciate you talking to me.” Special Agent McDonald opened a notebook. “Mr. Lanigan told us you arrived in Sunrise Bay on July 20th. Is that correct?”

I nodded, my heart thumping harder.

“And did you know Mr. Lanigan before you arrived?”

“No. I’d never seen him or read any of his books. What has that got to do with Leith Chapman?”

“Mr. Chapman has been implicated in the deaths of two people. The bodies were found in New Haven and Stamford.”

I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, feeling the blood drain from my face. “He killed two people?”

“We’re currently investigating their deaths and speaking to the victims’ next of kin.”

“How do you know it was Chapman who killed them?”

Special Agent McDonald’s mouth tilted into a smile.

My heart pounded faster. There was nothing funny about this.

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