Page 35 of A Sublime Casualt
His chest rumbles with a laugh. “Not Neil for sure. Everyone loves Neil for a reason. He’s a good guy. He’s my second father. Hell, my first. The only reason he looked into you is because his radar is sharp and he suspected something. He was right, by the way, which just proves how good he is.”
“Huh.” I nod to his laptop over on the nightstand, and Theo hands it to me. “How long have you known him?”
“About five, six years. He was my old partner before Fiona. We fought for that detective position, but he won out fair and square, no bad blood.”
“What’s his last name again?”
“Harper.”
I input it and run a quick Google search. “Abilene, Texas sound familiar?” About a dozen articles linking him there as an officer crop up.
“Yup. That’s where he came from. He and his wife moved this way for her work, and they split up shortly thereafter.”
“Where is she?”
“Des Moines, I think. He doesn’t talk much about her.”
“Does he have a girlfriend? Does he date?”
He frowns playfully. “Why? Is he looking pretty good right about now?”
“Very funny. I think I know where he’d take me for our first date, but I happen to have an aversion to orange jumpsuits.” I scoot in close to him so he can see the screen. “I just want to see a history of quasi-normal behavior. He’s not that old, and he’s pleasantly handsome. He’s already been married, so we know he has a history of relationships. Most people follow a pattern. Any girlfriends?”
Theo ticks his head back as he considers this. “No, I guess not. The Neil I know has always been nose to the grindstone.”
“Where does he live?”
“About a block north of Gabby. Tract house, small little dot of a house that he’s constantly repairing. Other than work, that’s about the only thing I hear him talk about.”
“Have you been there?” My adrenaline is racing. A part of me wants it to be Neil because he’s such an inept asshole.
“Now and again. Mostly when we were patrolling. He’d stop in to grab something. He invited a bunch of guys to watch the Super Bowl one year. Nothing too impressive.”
“What about Karen Gilroy? What did he have to say about that?”
“He was in charge. Still is.” He shrugs. “Just another cold case.”
“It’s the move of a potential serial killer.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Whoever dumped Karen’s body left Lizzy’s wallet as a breadcrumb. What did he have to say about that?”
“He agreed. He said exactly that. It was quite upsetting to my mother and sister. It about drove me insane.” His jaw redefines itself.
I hit Google hard once again, and my next breath gets lodged in my throat as an article catches my attention. “Abilene, Texas Four Cold Cases in Last Fifteen Years,” I read the headline before scrolling down to pictures of the victims—each one a woman in her twenties, same dark hair, same dazzling smile as Lizzy’s. “Well”—my chest bucks at what this might mean—“it looks like whoever did this has a particular taste in women.” I look up Karen Gilroy. I already know what I’m about to find. “I did this search in the library right after I found her body. Did you see this?” An image of her pops up on the screen, and Theo groans as if a bullet struck him.
“She looks like she could be another one of my sisters.” He shakes his head. “I had seen the resemblance way back when. I even brought it up to Neil, but he said Karen was a heroin addict who died of an overdose. Most likely beaten up and dumped by her pimp. She had a record as a prostitute.”
“Really?” My mind spins faster and faster until it doesn’t feel safe. I click back to the article on the Abilene girls and click into each name. All students, all with the same sinister connection, drugs, prostitution. “Oh my God.” I point to the screen. “Look at that. Tracy Brooks and Veronica Braden both have ties to adult websites.”
Theo goes pale, his demeanor from dismissive to aggressively angry. “It can’t be. It’s got to be a coincidence. There’s no way this is Neil.”
“Come on.” This time it’s me filled with disbelief. “He didn’t put in half the effort we did investigating your sister. Have you told him about the St. Regency? Does he even know about the Beautiful Girls website?”
He shakes his head, the color coming back to his face, red with rage. “No.”
I pull up that text once again on my phone. “Could he have gotten my number? Do you think Jackson gave it to him so he could investigate me?”
“No.” He winces. “Jackson was happy for us—especially at the time we went to the Rock House.” He lifts his head. “Shit. Just before that, I went into the station and demanded to see my sister’s laptop. I made some stupid excuse about needing to get a recipe off it for my mother. He was fine with it, but I needed him to leave the room, so I had Jackson call me and stall him. Neil left the room with my phone for at least fifteen solid minutes. He could have gotten anything off it at that point, including your number.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “It’s Neil, Theo. It has to be Neil. Maybe he wasn’t overtly dating because he was keeping busy with the Beautiful Girls. I’m not trying to say anything disparaging about your sister, but a lot of those girls went the extra mile for big bucks. Lots and lots of money. They did things at hotels—like the St. Regency. I wonder if Miles would remember Lizzy and Neil together?”