Page 7 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

I held my head in my hands.

“Try to imagine that what I’m saying is true,” he said. “I didn’t kill Daisy. I don’t know where she is. Just try, will you?” Troy pleaded. For the first time, I saw a flicker of an emotion in his eyes: desperation. “Imagine that I came home to find my wife gone and that I really, genuinely, have no idea what’s happened to her. I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead. And if that’s not horrible enough, imagine that everyone in the world is pointing a finger at me. Imagine that all week, the police have been following me and watching me and questioning me for hours on end. Imagine me getting so tired and scared that I decided to search every square inch of my house for clues about what the hell happened to my wife. Now imagine how I felt when I foundthis.”

He pointed at the box on my desk.

I did as he asked. While Troy stared at his feet, I sat and imagined, or tried to imagine, the predicament he’d described.

“You haven’t told the police about the box?” I asked.

“Would you?” he responded.

CHAPTER9

I HAD TO THINKhard. Troy’s story about finding the box under his house and having no idea why it was there sounded far-fetched to me — to the cops, it would be simply unacceptable. I knew that the police who were hounding Troy were unshakable in their resolve to pin this crime on him. The husband is always the first suspect and remains that way unless he’s definitively cleared. There would be no creative thinking. No wavering. As soon as the police learned about the contents of this box, they would arrest Troy. The internet would melt down. Troy would be torpedoing his own case if he reported this now.

“So you’re saying that you want to hire my agency to find out where this box came from,” I said. “And why it was buried under your house.”

“Right.” Troy nodded.

“And you want us to do that without informing the police of its existence.”

“Please.”

I laughed. Sometimes it’s all you can do. “Troy, that’s not a good idea. I’ve got to think about my business. My investigator’s license. Not to mention the families of those missing people in the newspaper clippings. If this is what I think it is and you don’t go to the police with that box right now, we could both be charged with withholding evidence and interfering in a police investigation.”

“I understand.” He put his hands up. “But, Rhonda, I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t kill my wife, and I have nothing to do with whatever happened to those people. That’s why I’m here. Because I know what will happen if I bring this to the police, but I don’t want to ignore it. I’m hoping you can at least look into this for ... I don’t know. A day? Would you give it a day?”

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll eventually hand the box in, I suppose.” He leaned back in his chair. “Let the police take a crack at it. But if their behavior so far has shown me anything, it’s that they’ve already made up their minds that I’m the bad guy here. They’ll probably approach those other cases with the same tunnel vision.”

I took off the latex gloves and tapped the edge of my desk, my mind racing, loyalties colliding. I stood up and went to the window to look down at the squad cars. There was an officer standing between them, leaning on the roof of one car, talking on a cell phone in the sunshine. His partner was in the cruiser. The other cruiser was empty. My guess was that the two officers from the second cruiser were stationed in front of the crab shack or in the hall outside. A four-man team was a lot for a single surveillance target, and those were just the guys I could see. Given all the publicity on Daisy’s case, it wouldn’t surprise me if the cops were putting covert tails on Troy, possibly even planting listening devices in his car and house. They’d want to put pressure on the man. Make him squirm. See if he did anything stupid.

“Every cop in the state is on me,” Troy said as though he could hear my thoughts. “But if I’m a ... a killer ... nobody’s in any danger from me right now.”

“Hmm,” I said.

“So will you do it?” he asked. “Will you help me?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I need more time to make a decision.”

“Okay,” he said. Troy stood and waited uncertainly in front of the door, his hands clasped. “I, uh ... I told the cops at my house when they saw me leaving with the box that it was full of paperwork and that I was coming here about a private matter. I suppose they’ll want to question you as soon as I’m gone.”

“I’ll fend them off until I’ve made a decision,” I said. I opened a desk drawer and pulled out a spare burner phone I kept there. “Take this. I’ll call you in an hour and tell you what I’m going to do.”

CHAPTER10

BABY FUMBLED FOR HERphone on the nightstand in the pure blackness of her bedroom, knocking a bottle of water, a packet of gummy bears, and a box of tissues to the floor. “Hello?”

“You’ll never believe who just showed up here,” Rhonda said, her voice tight with excitement.

By the time her sister was finished recapping her encounter with Troy Hansen, Baby was fully awake. She stood squinting at the beach view outside her window; the blazing sunlight reflecting off the ocean and the bizarreness of the tale had rocketed her into consciousness.

Baby inhaled deeply. This wasbig. Stories about Daisy Hansen, Troy’s missing wife, were all over her socials and FYP, and the hashtag#troykilleddaisywas everywhere. “No. Freakin’.Way,” Baby said.

“Yes freakin’ way.” Rhonda sounded like she was getting in her car. Baby heard the thunk of the Impala’s door closing, the whiz of the seat belt, and the grunt of the engine coming to life. “I was just interrogated outside the crab shack by some of the cops who’ve been tailing Troy. They wanted to know what he was doing at our office, of course. And they wanted to see what was in the box he brought over.”

“What did you do?”

---