Page 14 of Accidental Murder

I’m not you,Ashley had rasped.

Kayla noted the way Dennis was twisting the class ring on his right hand. Had he wrung the life out of her sister using the scarf? Why? Could she prove he killed her? Or was he smart enough not to leave prints? Even if he had, he could explain them away. His presence would be everywhere in her townhouse. She hadn’t thought to purge him, hair by hair, from her life.

“Did she say anything?” Dennis repeated.

“Sir.”Hanrahan cleared her throat. “Miss Macintyre’s in shock.”

Dennis removed a white linen business card from his coat pocket and offered it to Kayla. “If you remember anything, call me. You have my deepest sympathy.”

She accepted the card. Dennis stood and made a slight bow in Hanrahan’s direction, whose gaze narrowed as he moved away. Did she dislike him as much as Kayla did?

“Now then.” Hanrahan pulled a pad from her jacket pocket. Referring to her notes, she recited, “Mrs. Tennyson said she was reading by her window when she saw a man enter the townhouse. At first, she supposed he might be a workman or something. Then he exited and stole around back. When she saw smoke, she called 911.” The inspector looked up. “She described him as dark hair, broad shoulders, over six feet.”

That could describe half the men Kayla knew, including Dennis Wald.

“Did Kayla have a boyfriend or an ex-boyfriend?” Hanrahan asked.

Kayla cut a look in Dennis’s direction, who was getting into his souped-up Corvette. If she told Hanrahan her concerns about him, would the inspector take her seriously? Or would she shield her boss?

“Don’t you know?” Hanrahan pressed.

If Kayla revealed the truth about her identity, and Dennis realized he’d killed Ashley—not her—would he would come after her again?

She bent forward and hung her head between her knees. “No current boyfriend.”

“Did Kayla meet clients late at night?”

“No, never.” Clients never came to her place. She always went to theirs or worked remotely on their computers.

“This could have been a burglary, I suppose,” Hanrahan said. “The Second Story Sneak is at large.”

Kayla had read about the Sneak. He broke into women’s places and robbed them, but he hadn’t resorted to strangulation or arson. “My sister said her assailant uttered her name.”My name.“I think he knew her.”

“Lots of burglars go through the garbage or the mail. Familiarity breeds trust.”

Kayla frowned. Would Hanrahan and her colleagues miss evidence because they assumed the obvious? Would they rule the crime a burglary, pure and simple—case closed?

No. The killer had known her name and had rooted through her personal files. He’d damaged two computers. Why? Had he been searching for something specific? Did he find it?

“We should notify your family,” Hanrahan said.

Sadness consumed Kayla. She felt as if her heart was lying on the pavement, exposed and raw. First her mother and brotherdied, then her father, and now Ashley. All she had left was uncle David.

But then a blur of black flew at her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Java sailedinto Kayla’s lap and licked her chin. In response to Hanrahan’s inquisitive look, Kayla said, “Family cat.” She crooked the cat under her arm to quiet him. “When can I go inside?”

“That won’t be allowed for now.”

“I should see if anything’s been stolen. My sister’s business involved computers?—”

“I’m sorry. No.”

Kayla set Java on the pavement. He rubbed against her ankles and sought a haven beneath her bent legs. She scratched his ears as she tried to figure out a way to get answers. Had the killer been after her client information? Had he stolen the backup hard drives and digital memory cards she stored in her safe?

“Ashley,” Hanrahan said.