Page 95 of Callum
It was possible. They’d assumed Olivia was behind the texts, but maybe not.
Fuck. Fiona had been working with that woman, a fake, hanging out with her, all this time… “Have you left the library?”
“Yes. But before I did, I checked for Jenny and she was gone. She must have gone out the front after you.”
His gut tightened. “Can you go to the woman’s house?”
“On it. Send me the address.”
Callum dug until he found the rental in the name she was using. He sent it to Liam, all the while berating himself for his huge fucking oversight.
CHAPTER30
Liam took the stairs two at a time. Jenny’s apartment building wasn’t just in the worst part of town, it was also the worst fucking building amongst the dumps—peeling paint, a musty, moldy smell thickening the air. Tyler was on his way as backup, but Liam was impatient. The second that address had come through, he’d wanted to check it out. If the woman was targeting Fiona, he needed to know now.
When he reached the third floor, he moved down the hall. Sounds pricked his ears from behind closed doors. TVs. Dishes clattering in water. A person in the shower. Behind one door, he heard the raised voices of a couple arguing.
He ignored all of it, stopping in front of Jenny’s apartment and knocking. He waited exactly five seconds, listening for any movement on the other side. When there was nothing, he pulled a glove from his pocket and slid it over his hand, then turned the handle, easily breaking the lock.
He stepped into a dark apartment. Every curtain was pulled closed, every light switched off. The space was small, with a kitchenette to the left, a couch and TV to the right, and a small dining table separating the two spaces. The musky smell didn’t end in the hall. If anything, it was thicker in here.
Damn, the place was a mess.
Dishes were piled up in the sink. The carpet was riddled with stains and appeared to have not been cleaned for months. There was an open door that he could already see led to a bathroom at the end of a hall, and two closed doors on either side.
He was just closing the door to the hall when his phone rang. He already knew who it would be. Callum was anxious to learn what he’d found—as he should be.
“I’m in,” Liam said quietly, scanning the messy kitchen counter. The scurry of movement from inside a cupboard had his head shooting around. It sounded again, and he looked away. A rat or some other rodent.
“See anything?”
“The apartment building’s a dump and her place is a mess.” He shuffled around the stuff on the table. There were a lot of takeout coffee cups and paper bags. Napkins. He paused on a couple of printed receipts, eyes narrowing. “There’s a receipt for a tattoo.”
“A tattoo?” Callum sounded as confused as him.
Liam lifted another two receipts. “There’s a receipt for a locksmith, and she also paid for some online acting courses.”
“The key…” Callum breathed. “If she was the one who entered Fiona’s house, it could be for that. She’d have access to Fiona’s bag all day. Maybe she made a copy of the library back door key too. Andactingclasses?”
Yeah, sounded fishy as hell. A bad feeling began to churn in Liam’s gut. “I’m going to check the bedrooms.”
He moved to the room on the left to find a large bed centered the space, but similar to the living room, there was shit everywhere. The bed was unmade. Clothes covered every inch of the floor. And there were more takeout containers.
He moved to her dresser, checking each drawer but finding nothing that shouldn’t be there…until he reached the last drawer.
“Did you say it was a red sweater Olivia stole from Fiona and wore with Freddie?”
“Yeah, why?”
Liam’s fingers tightened on the material. “I found it in her dresser.”
There was a long, thick silence, then Callum let out a string of curses.
It was pretty good evidence that this woman was involved, but it also wasn’t enough. Fiona and Jenny were friends. Lots of women bought similar clothing. “There’s one more room. I’ll see what’s in there.”
He moved out of the bedroom and tried the last door. His brows slashed together when it wouldn’t open easily. She’d locked it? A room in her own apartment? He gave the knob one sharp turn, breaking the lock as he’d done to the front door.
The second he flicked the light, every muscle in his body turned to stone.
