Chapter Four
After making a quick stop at a deli for takeout, they returned to the station and entered through a side door using Matt’s passkey.
He led Sean into a conference room, then immediately disappeared into his office before returning with the files from the two previous homicides, along with the thinner file he’d started on the newest victim.
Given enough time, Sean had no doubt it would grow as thick as the others.
They were just getting ready to sit at the large conference table when Brian Malone walked in with another man around his age.
Both wore sports coats, ties, and khakis.
Brian stood six-three like Sean, while the other agent was a couple of inches shorter and built a little broader through the shoulders.
Brian motioned between his partner and Matt. “Sheriff Matt Griffin, Rafael Montoya.”
As the sheriff shook hands with him, the other man said, “Call me Rafe, sir.”
“Nice to meet you, Rafe. Feel free to call me Matt when it’s informal like this.”
Montoya nodded before Brian turned his attention to Sean. “And this guy is the sorriest son of a gun you’ll ever meet.”
Sean laughed and drove a playful punch into his brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, I can honestly say you taught me everything I know.”
He shook hands with the other agent. “Hi, I’m Sean.”
“Rafe. Nice to meet you finally,” Montoya said. “Brian’s always talking about you, KC, and your uncle.”
“Ha. Proof he loves me.”
Brian pointed at him. “What he didn’t mention is that I spend most of the time trashing you.”
“That part I believe.” He set the deli bag on the table. “But you still love me.”
His brother opened his mouth, but Sean cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t deny it unless you want me to keep the sandwiches.”
Sean’s grin widened when Brian answered with nothing more than a glare.
Everybody in the family knew the easiest way to control the middle Malone brother was with food.
The man could eat nonstop and still remain one of the fittest agents in the SBI thanks to his habit of running nearly every morning.
The sheriff stepped out for a brief meeting, leaving the three agents alone in the conference room.
Brian spread out the case files and started scanning reports while eating his sandwich.
Sean preferred to finish lunch first. Reading details from a homicide investigation while trying to eat was a great way to lose his appetite, and his stomach had only recently recovered from the autopsy.
For several minutes, the room stayed quiet except for the rustle of paper and the occasional crinkle of sandwich wrappers.
When Montoya excused himself to use the restroom, Sean glanced across the table at his brother. “Did you know Bonnie’s niece moved back to town?”
Brian kept reading. “Little Gracie? Yeah, Dan mentioned it. Haven’t seen her yet.”
Relief eased through Sean at his brother’s lack of interest. The more he thought about Grace, the more he wanted to see her again—and soon.
“She came by the beach house for dinner last night with Bonnie and Dan.”
That finally earned him Brian’s attention. His brother looked up from the report. “Yeah? Is she still gawky-looking?”
“Uh... not exactly.” The second the words left his mouth, Sean knew he’d made a mistake.
Brian’s eyes narrowed. “What does ‘not exactly’ mean? Don’t tell me she’s hot now.”
The three-letter word didn’t come close to describing Grace. Calling her hot was like calling a hurricane a stiff breeze.
Instead of answering, he shrugged and grabbed one of the homicide files, pretending he was far more focused on the paperwork than the conversation.
His brother wasn’t fooled. “Uncle Dan said she’s opening a physical therapy practice.” He leaned back in his chair. “Maybe I should schedule an appointment for my back problem.”
Sean’s head snapped up. “What back problem?”
“The one I developed about thirty seconds ago.” Brian rolled his shoulders in exaggerated discomfort. “Think I could use a massage.”
A low growl rose from Sean’s throat. Now that Brian knew he was interested in Grace Whitman, his brother would never let him hear the end of it.
Back in high school and through their early twenties, the two of them had shared a long-running rivalry over women, though distance and separate careers had put an end to most of that years ago.
“Can we get back to the case, jerk-face?”
An evil grin spread across Brian’s face as he crumpled the sandwich wrapper and launched it toward the garbage can in the corner. The paper dropped cleanly through the opening. Then he grabbed his lower back and let out an exaggerated groan.
Sean seriously considered strangling him, but professionalism overruled the urge.
Half an hour later, the three agents sat elbow-deep in reports and crime scene photos spread across the conference table, jotting notes on white legal pads. They glanced up when the conference room door opened and a young dark-haired deputy stepped inside.
“The sheriff asked me to let you know we got a missing-person report that sounds like it could be last night’s victim.” He handed Sean a slip of paper. “Name’s Daphne Jones. Larry Cumberland is at the residence taking the report now. Said her photo matches the description.”
The deputy extended his hand. “I’m Ned Montgomery, by the way.”
Sean stood and shook it. “Special Agent Sean Malone from the FBI. This is my brother Brian and his partner, Rafe Montoya, with SBI.” He glanced at the information on the paper. “How long has she been missing?”
“Her roommate last saw her Saturday night. Her friends think she left a nightclub with somebody, but they never saw her leave. And nobody’s seen her since.”
Brian looked between Sean and Rafe. “Who’s coming with me?”
His partner shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, but I’d rather keep going through the first two cases. You can fill me in later.”
Sean grabbed his sports coat off the back of his chair. “Works for me.”
Before Montgomery could leave, Sean stopped him. “Any word on Stuart Crowell?”
“Not yet. I’m covering the desk until twenty-hundred, though, so I’ll let you know if we find him.”
After giving the deputy his cell number, Sean followed Brian out of the conference room.
Within twenty-five minutes, Sean and Brian sat at the small kitchen table of a neat two-bedroom apartment in nearby Kitty Hawk.
The top-floor unit was one of six in a three-story walk-up.
Cheerful yellow accents brightened the compact space, and the scent of vanilla drifted from a candle burning on the counter, giving the apartment a warm, welcoming feel.
Sean wondered how long that feeling would last once Cheryl Armstrong learned her roommate was never coming home.
Several photos scattered across the table confirmed what Sean had already suspected. Their victim was thirty-two-year-old Daphne Jones, a receptionist at a local insurance agency. Dental records would make the identification official, but Sean had no doubt.
Deputy Cumberland had given them a brief overview when they arrived, but Sean wanted Cheryl to start from the beginning. First, though, they had to tell her what happened. Cumberland hadn’t shared the details yet.
Sean hated this part of the job, but it had to be done. His steady gaze met her confused one. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Daphne’s body was discovered early this morning. She was murdered.”
A horrified gasp escaped her, and her hand flew to her mouth as the color drained from her face.
Before she could ask questions he couldn’t answer, Sean continued. “I can’t discuss the details right now, but we need your help finding whoever did this to her. Okay?”
Tears slid down her cheeks as she whispered, “Okay.”
“I know you already spoke to the deputy, but I’d appreciate it if you went through everything again. Sometimes people remember details they overlooked the first time.”
She drew in a ragged breath and wiped her eyes with a tissue that Deputy Cumberland was kind enough to hand her. “A b-bunch of us girls went out Saturday night. We went to dinner at Martino’s in Jarvisburg. It—it’s a new restaurant on Central Avenue.”
“What time?”
She cleared her throat. “Um... Around six-thirty. I drove Daphne and our friend Janet, and we met Diane and Michelle there. We stayed until about nine, then went to Visions in Elizabeth City.”
Her gaze shifted between the two agents.
“I know the club,” Brian said. “Go ahead.”
“The place was packed like always, and we ran into a lot of people we knew.” She twisted the tissue in her hands. “It wasn’t unusual for us to lose track of each other for a while.”
“When did you realize Daphne was gone?” Sean asked.
Cheryl sniffed hard before answering. “Honestly, we didn’t think she was missing at first. We figured she met some guy and left with him.
It wouldn’t have been the first time.” She shook her head fast. “Not that she slept around or anything. She just... liked to hook up with someone once in a while.”
Brian jotted a few notes onto his pad. “Okay. When was the last time anyone saw her, and when did you realize she was gone?”
“Um... the last time I saw her was around eleven, I think. We were in the ladies’ room together.
” Cheryl twisted the damp tissue in her hands.
“Around one-thirty, the rest of us started looking for her because Janet had too much to drink and wanted to go home. We searched the whole club and couldn’t find Daphne.
When the place closed at two, we figured she’d left with some guy. ”
“Why didn’t you report her missing yesterday?” Sean asked.
Her gaze shifted to him. “I didn’t know she never came home.
When I got up Sunday morning, her bedroom door was shut, so I thought she was sleeping.
I spent most of the day babysitting my nieces while my brother and sister-in-law went to a wedding.
By the time I got home, I went straight to bed.
It wasn’t unusual for us to go a day without seeing each other.
Her boss called me this morning to ask why she hadn’t shown up, since I’m her emergency contact.
That’s when I knew something was wrong. Daphne never misses a day at work without calling first.”
After several more questions about Daphne’s routines, former boyfriends, and whether she’d mentioned anyone suspicious lately, Brian asked, “Does she have family nearby? We’ll need to notify them.”
“No. Her parents and sisters live in Chicago.” Cheryl pointed toward the closed bedroom door. “Their addresses and phone numbers are in her journal on the dresser. She told me to call them if anything ever happened to her.”
Without being asked, Deputy Cumberland headed into the bedroom to retrieve it.
“How can I call them and tell them that... that...” The reality of everything crashed into Cheryl at once. A sob tore from her throat.
Sean reached across the table and rested a hand on her arm. “You won’t have to. We’ll contact Daphne’s parents.”
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe she’s dead.” Her shoulders shook harder. “We should’ve looked for her.”
“Your friend was probably gone long before anyone realized something was wrong. This isn’t your fault.”
She lifted red-rimmed eyes to his.
“All the blame belongs to the person who killed her,” he said. “And I promise you, we’re going to do everything we can to find them and make sure Daphne gets justice.”