Page 96 of Her Last Whisper

He smiled and beckoned with his index finger for her to get out of the vehicle. Dressed in his work clothes for the fire department, he looked extremely handsome. She noticed that he had cut his hair shorter since the other night.

Opening the car door, Katie said, “Hi, how’d you know where to find me?”

“McGaven.”

“It’s good to see you. I’m sorry for not getting a hold of you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re working that homicide. I wanted to stop by so you wouldn’t forget what I looked like.”

“That would behighlyunlikely. But…”

“I know,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “Maybe a drink later?”

“I have to interview a suspect right now. I don’t know how long that will be, and then I’m going home.”

“Okay.”

Katie moved toward the building. “It will be late. Can I call you on my way home?”

“Sure,” he said, and smiled, but it was clear he was a little disappointed.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Katie said, then hesitated. There was so much she wanted to share with him and there was so much she wanted to say. The Haines brothers made her think about family and those people who were close to her—how precious life was, and the people who were in her life. She didn’t want to ruin the chance with Chad, because she knew that he wasn’t going to wait for her forever.

Fifty-Five

Monday 1300 hours

Katie and McGaven walked into the interrogation room not saying a word. Katie carried an electronic device, yellow steno notepad, and a pen. She had requested this particular room because it was the smallest and the lack of airflow made it smell like an old basement. Most detectives opted not to use it, but for some situations, it helped to push the person of interest into a confession.

The truth.

Bobby Sykes sat in the chair across from the detectives. His nerves were obvious as he moved his right leg in a jangled tapping motion. He was slight in build and looked athletic, like he could run fast and ride a mountain bike. His sandy hair was almost shoulder length and he pushed it out of his face out of habit—and uneasiness.

“Mr. Robert Sykes,” Katie began. “Bobby?”

“Why am I here?” he asked, his voice a bit shaky.

“Do I look stupid to you?” she said.

“What?”

“Answer the question.” McGaven ordered.

“Do you look stupid? No. Why are you asking that?”

Katie thought she’d jump right in. She tossed the steno pad and pen onto the table. “Write your name and where you live and work.”

Robert Sykes did as he was told without complaining. He picked up the pen with his right hand and began to write.

Katie looked at her device and pulled up a copy of the three notes left for her. She watched with interest as Sykes finished his writing assignment.

McGaven picked up the notepad and he turned to show it to Katie. His expression revealed what she had hoped.

She compared the handwriting and stared at Sykes. “Would you mind explaining this?” She turned the notepad and device so that he could see them both—it was obvious that the writing was from the same person.

“I… don’t…”

“You can do better than that,” she said. “Explain this to me.”