Chapter 18
Hunter tracked down Karl’s home address, and when I arrived at his house a single porch light glowed above his door, casting a pale circle across the concrete walkway. From what little I could see at this time of night, his place was a modest, well-kept two-story townhome.
I grabbed a bag of food from the passenger seat and stepped out, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I made my way to the front door.
I knocked once and waited.
A few seconds passed, and then the door opened.
Karl was now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a worn T-shirt. He held a carton of ice cream in one hand.
“First my office and now my home,” he said. “This feels like harassment. What are you doing here?”
I held up the bag, hoping he’d accept my peace offering. “You left before your food came. I thought you might still be hungry.”
His gaze dropped to the bag, then back to me, and he hesitated before reaching out and taking it.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I wanted to apologize for taking you to the diner tonight. I thought we’d be able to chat in the back room while enjoying a good meal. I had no idea my mother would get involved like she did.”
“Is she always so—”
“Overzealous? Most of the time? Yes. I know it’s hard to believe, but she means well.”
He looked down at the ice cream in his hand, as if remembering it was there, and then stepped back, shifting his weight.
“Well,” I said, gesturing toward the bag. “Enjoy your dinner. I won’t keep you.”
I turned and began walking back toward my car, thinking that sometimes the best way to get someone to talk was to stop asking and give them some space. I hoped since I was in his safe space, he might agree to talk to me and perhaps even be more forthcoming than he had been at the diner.
I reached the driver’s-side door, opened it, and slid inside.
Karl raised a hand and then stepped back inside the house, closing the door behind him.
It seemed my plan hadn’t worked.
I started the car, and just as I was about to back out of the driveway, I saw Karl walking toward me.
He tapped on my window, and I lowered it.
“Did you mean what you said earlier at the diner?” he asked.
“I’m going to need you to be a little more specific.”
“You said you thought someone killed Wren by mistake. If you’re right, it would mean Mia’s life could still be in danger.”
I detected something different in his demeanor now. He sounded less frantic and more focused.
“Her life is in danger,” I said.
He swallowed. “What she’s going through right now, it must be tough. What makes you think someone killed the wrong sister?”
In my line of work, information was currency. You didn’t hand it out unless you knew what you were getting in return. And yet, part of me wanted to see how he would react if I was straight with him.
“Someone tried breaking into Mia’s house last night,” I said. “I was there. I saw them outside before they made their way inside. I have no doubt their intentions were bad.”
The shock on his face looked genuine.
But was it?
“Is Mia okay?” he asked.
“She’s fine.”
“I haven’t seen her or spoken to her, not since they transferred me to the other location.
You may not know me, but I’d never hurt someone over a missed job opportunity, or for any other reason.
I was upset the day I found out I’d been passed over, sure.
But I’ve moved on. To tell you the truth, she did me a favor. I just didn’t see it at the time.”
“What favor?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to handle working for the new boss. The team I work with now has been great. I like working there.”
His words came just a fraction too fast, and yet, there was something else, something small and kind and human. It made it hard for me to place him inside Mia’s house the night before, standing in her doorway, preparing to correct his mistake.
“I didn’t kill Mia’s sister,” he said. “Your mom was right, though, wasn’t she? I’m on your list of suspects.”
“I suspect anyone and everyone related to the case,” I said. “It’s my job.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Well, thanks for the food.”
“Thank you for talking to me,” I said.
He nodded and stepped back, and I raised the window, shifting the car into drive as I pulled away from the curb.
In the rearview mirror, I saw Karl watching me as I drove down the street, the bag of food dangling from his hand. He was an odd little man, and sometimes the odd ones made the best killers.