Page 71 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

“So you killed her,” I said.

“She came at me first.” Brogan’s eyes were now dry. “She was a strong woman. Vicious. Athletic. All I was trying to do was subdue her.”

“Martin Rosco,” I said. “Did you send him after me to try to get me to drop the case?”

“That was a stupid move.” Brogan shook his head. “Rosco had always been unreliable. But Troy hiring a PI was a complication I didn’t need.”

“I’d just love to know why you’re bothering to tell me all this,” I said. “Is it because you’re hoping I’m going to come over to your side, help you plead out to manslaughter for what you did to Daisy?”

He didn’t answer.

“Or is it because you’re trying to make yourself feel better about what you’re about to do?” I looked at the scrubland around us. “Because I gotta tell you, Brogan, your heartfelt explanation of what you did? It’s got a little less coldness to it than some of the murder confessions I’ve heard in my time.”

He looked at me.

“But,” I went on, “if you think all that is gonna stop me from killing you to save my own life ... you’re dead wrong.”

I put my rolled-up sock in my mouth. The sour taste of my own foot sweat made me wince. I tugged my seat belt tight and bit down hard on the sock.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brogan asked.

I reached over, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked it toward me. The car swerved. Brogan did exactly what I’d expected him to — he slammed on the brakes. The tires bit into the road and the vehicle flipped.

CHAPTER82

BABY WATCHED THE ROADahead as Dave Summerly drove. The cars had thinned out, and steep, rocky mountains in sunset orange crowded the highway on either side of them. She dialed Jamie, her hand sweating as it held the phone.

“Leave me alone,” the hacker said. “I’m deep in the weeds with this Su Lim Marshall chick. Are you offering bonuses for any gold-plated, diamond-encrusted skeletons I manage to scare out of her closet? Because if so — ”

“I don’t have time for that now,” Baby said. “I want you to look up something else.”

“Are you serious?”

“This one should just be a simple record search,” Baby said. “Chelsea Hupp. Little girl, died about thirty years ago.”

She heard tapping. Summerly talked quietly on his cell phone, his big shoulder touching hers across the car’s center console.

“Okay, I got her.”

“Known relatives?”

“None living,” Jamie said. “Dad predeceased her. Died of a heart attack. Mom died of a drug overdose. Looks like Mom never remarried. No known siblings.”

“Come on. Dig deeper.”

“What am I digging for?”

“Someone in her family circle is a cop or a journalist or a goddamn ... missing-persons volunteer.”

“What?”

“The answer is here, Jamie! It’s right here! I just need you to find it!” Baby screamed. Summerly reached over and put a hand on her arm. She shoved him off.

“Jesus.” Jamie’s voice was small. “My fee triples when you lose your shit at me.”

“I’m sorry.” Baby held her throbbing head. “I’m sorry.”

“I, uh — ” Jamie tapped and clicked. “I’m tracing Melanie Hupp’s estate. That’s the mother.”

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