Page 33 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

I’d sent Baby to take George back to his workplace before the guy faced a penalty for walking out. I had to accept the fact that Dave Summerly would also catch up to George in time, but for now, I was a step ahead. Troy huffed a small, dark laugh in the quiet of the car as we entered the outskirts of Glendale.

“What?”

“Oh, I’m just reading about Daisy’s apparent love of film noir in these messages to her boyfriend.” Troy was slowly swiping through the message thread he’d sent himself from George’s phone. “Daisy hates those movies. Film noir is my thing.”

“You shouldn’t read those,” I told him. “We’ll get them to the police. They’ll tell you if there’s anything relevant in there.”

“Do we really have to share these with the cops?” he asked.

“Yes. We do.”

“These will just strengthen the case against me,” he said. “It’ll look like I found out and I killed her.”

“Holding back the trophy box is enough of a risk,” I said. I took a deep breath. “And I need to talk to you about that.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not right for me to hang on to it any longer,” I said. “The families of those missing people should know anything that relates to finding their loved ones.” I told Troy what had happened with Oliver Maloof, that the man was in the hospital recovering from stab wounds. “The Maloof family deserves to know what’s going on. I’ve had the box for long enough.”

“I’ll be arrested as soon as the police get hold of it.”

“Yes.”

“And the internet will know. There’s clearly a leak in the cop camp. The stuff about the lottery win went up about half an hour ago.”

“Cops and journalists.” I nodded. “Sometimes enemies. Sometimes friends.”

“Well, Rhonda, I guess that’s it,” he said. I looked over and saw him staring at me. “I thought when I hired you that I would be partnering with an ally. Getting help. But you haven’t helped me at all. I won’t be requiring your services any longer.”

We stopped at the roadblock at the end of Troy’s street. The two cops manning it turned to us, and I could see their smug smiles even in the dark.

As Troy reached for the door handle and said, “I’ll walk from here,” I grabbed his arm.

“Don’t get out yet,” I said.

“What? Why?”

I pointed down the street at the golden glow from hundreds of candles.

CHAPTER36

I KNEW WHAT Iwas seeing even from a hundred yards away. This was a candlelight vigil. The soft radiance of the lights on the faces of families gathered in the night, some of whom had brought their dogs on leashes, might at first have made someone think,Street party.But it was silent. Reverent. Expressions were serious. Children were wide-eyed, nervous. Troy and I watched as a couple pushing a stroller turned the corner and walked toward the vigil, a framed photograph of Daisy tucked under the guy’s arm.

“They’re not going to let you get to your driveway,” I said. “Let’s just go. You can crash at my place.”

“No,” Troy said. “Just drive me home.”

“Troy.”

“It’s my house.” He sat up in his seat. “I’m tired, and I want to go home.”

“You assholes were supposed to keep the public back,” I snapped at the checkpoint cops. “What’s the point of blocking off the street if you’re going to allow something like this?”

“We can’t stop people who live on the street from inviting their friends over,” one of the cops said. He looked at Troy. “Your neighbor across the way organized this. Says there should be about two hundred guests coming. She can’t remember all their names, though.”

They laughed as I rolled up my window and drove through. Troy was gripping his seat belt tight.

“Mrs. Drummond,” he said. “I backed my work truck into her mailbox once. She’s never forgiven me.”

---