Page 33 of The Whispering Girls
“Can you forward the lists to us?” said McGaven.
“No problem.”
McGaven opened the address book and found Devin Bradley’s phone number and address. Katie glanced at it.
“When we finish up here we’re going to the Sunrise Café to see what they have to say about Theresa,” she said. “Then we’ll check out Devin Bradley.”
“Okay. I’ll keep you posted as things come in,” said the officer. “We’re in the process of contacting family.”
“Thanks. We’ll see you at the meeting with the chief.”
“See you then,” he said and ended the call.
“Is there possibly a photo of Devin?” said McGaven. “If he’s her boyfriend.”
“I think it’s the one in Theresa’s bedroom.”
Katie went in there and grabbed the frame. McGaven took a photo of it with his cell phone.
The front doorknob rattled.
Katie and McGaven instantly got in place on either side of the door.
They watched the knob turn slowly and the door inch open.
Katie grabbed the door and flung it open wide.
McGaven had his gun ready.
“I guess you weren’t expecting me this soon,” said Jack. His expression wasn’t relaxed, but he tried to make it a joke.
Katie exhaled.
McGaven said, “You are very quiet.”
Jack smiled. “I can see that you two are ready for anything.” He walked into the living room.
Ignoring the statement, Katie stepped aside. “Nothing suggests there was a struggle or anything, there’s no sign someone had visited her. Single dishes. Everything organized.”
Jack stood in the middle of the room and slowly took a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn. “You want everything documented?”
“Yes, just overall would be fine.” Katie walked to the front entrance. “And this,” she said and pointed to the pried area around the lock.
“Got it.”
SEVENTEEN
Thursday 1300 hours
Katie and McGaven drove to the café, where there were many trucks and cars parked. It seemed to be the place to eat lunch as well as breakfast.
“I think my stomach is grumbling,” said McGaven.
“Are you sure that wasn’t Cisco?” she said.
“Funny.” He made a face at her. “I am kinda hungry.”
Katie had been lost in her thoughts about Theresa’s apartment. It had occurred to her that someone could have staged it to appear as if everything was fine. The pillows, the dishes, and knickknacks were too perfect. It made a statement, but not that there wasn’t anything wrong.
