Page 25 of Kiss Her Goodbye (Frankie Elkin #4)

I DON’T THINK THE BLOOD IS Sabera’s,” Roberta murmurs thirty minutes later. She’d come tearing into the parking lot shortly after receiving Daryl’s summons, a dramatic display of riotous brown curls and door-knocker silver earrings as she’d bolted out of her vehicle and up the front steps.

Unfortunately, she’d chosen to do the responsible thing and notify her brother, Detective Marc, on her way over.

Which is to say, the three of us are now confined to the back patio where we are to touch nothing and talk to no one.

Given it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside, it feels like detention in an inner circle of hell.

Which might have been what Detective Marc intended when he marched into the townhouse and discovered his three least favorite people once again two steps ahead of him.

Or perhaps it was the fact I pointed that out specifically that tipped him over the edge.

“How do you know it’s not her blood?” Daryl asks now.

He’s removed his black suit jacket in deference to the heat.

I’ve already done my best to discreetly inspect his starched white dress shirt for bloodstains.

So far, so good. He’s also rolled up his cuffs to reveal forearms muddy with dark, swirling patterns of old ink.

Tattoos, possibly jailhouse, given the blotchy quality.

It’s challenging to both listen to his words and read his body art, but I do my best.

“It’s a lot of blood for starters. And only on the items in the sink. If Sabera was that grievously injured, how’d she not smear blood all over the rest of the place? Let alone have the strength to clean up before going all Beautiful Mind on the walls?”

I’m less convinced: “I checked the hijab while we were waiting,” I mutter.

Roberta skewers me with a look. “You trying to justify my brother killing you?”

“Eh, guy’s gotta save his strength. Has you to murder as well, right? Point is, the fabric has two sides. Unfortunately, it’s the inside that seems more… saturated.”

“Oh.” Roberta’s eyes widen slightly.

Daryl, on the other hand: “Head wounds are known for bleeding. Doesn’t mean it’s serious.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not.”

“Listen.” Roberta jerks her head toward the sliders, where we can hear voices grow louder as they approach. “Either way, this gives credence to Aliah’s assumption—Sabera was at the scene of the double homicide, at least close enough to wear some of the evidence—”

“Or involved enough to create some of the evidence,” I counter.

“Maybe she witnessed something she shouldn’t have.”

“Or did something she shouldn’t have.”

We’re saved from further debate as the glass slider is yanked back and Detective Marc appears. I don’t know what it is about cranky, glowering men, but my own mood immediately improves. Apparently for me, pissing off other people has an immediate therapeutic effect.

“When, where, why, how?” Detective Marc barks. “Start talking, and I mean now!”

I open my mouth just in time for Roberta to kick me in the shins. I’m so shocked, I shut up.

“I already explained to you,” Roberta states calmly. “Frankie and Daryl came to the resort to interview Sabera’s employer. As I’m sure you’ve also done.”

Judging by the good detective’s scowl, he has not.

“While driving through the property, it occurred to them that this would be a good location for Sabera to hide out, given her familiarity. A brief search for a vacant room that appeared recently disturbed led them to this unit.”

“Which they accessed how?”

I remember Daryl’s cell phone gadget and immediately fix my gaze on the flagstone patio.

“Door was ajar,” Roberta states point blank.

Her older brother throws up his arms in disgust. “So help me God, Birdie, I’ve been able to tell when you were lying since you were three years old. Stop covering for him. You’re a parole officer. You know better.”

I just get a hand on Daryl’s arm to keep him from lurching out of his chair in outrage.

Meanwhile, Roberta and her brother remain locked in a staring battle that most likely goes back decades. Neither appears willing to surrender anytime soon. As minute passes into minute, I sneak a glance at Daryl, expecting to see him gnashing his teeth at Detective Marc’s accusations.

Instead, Daryl’s gazing straight at Roberta, his look a mix of deep frustration and poignant longing. My own breath catches in my throat. But of course. Happily married Roberta had gone out of her way to state her relationship with Daryl was strictly professional, both in and out of the ballroom.

But Daryl, ostensibly unattached, still vested in his former PO’s life Daryl… To judge by the expression on his face, he would die for her. Which then makes me wonder if he’d kill for her as well.

Daryl must feel the weight of my stare. He glances over, flushes hotly. I don’t say a word. There are moments of discovery that demand comment and others you take with you to your grave. I understand completely which category this falls into.

“Clearly Sabera was here,” I interrupt, tiring of the family drama. “Do you think she’s already abandoned ship, or do we have some hope of her return?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, did you find any personal belongings, food in the fridge, toothpaste on the countertop? You know, basic living stuff?” My own voice is getting cranky. I’m hot, and this man has denied us AC.

“We don’t even know Sabera Ahmadi was the one staying here. We have the crime scene unit scouring the apartment for evidence now. Which is what you do in an official police investigation—you rely on evidence.”

I snort out loud. “Yeah, and how’s that working for you?”

“Ms. Elkin, you know I can take you in for obstruction—”

Second snort. “Obstruction? I’m the only reason you’ve finally made progress. Or do official police investigations not worry about those kind of things?”

“Now, see here!” Detective Marc grows increasingly rankled, while beside me, Daryl relaxes. I pat his shoulder in support.

“Do you think the numbers and letters are code?” I prod.

“Because they certainly look like some kind of riddle to me. I noticed random phrases here and there. Two halves of one whole. Chin up. Oh, and a key that has no lock. Hmm, haven’t we heard that somewhere else recently?

Also, did you catch the whole ‘Tell Zahra I love her,’ cuz that sounds ominous.

Oh, yes, and provides further support that Sabera was the one staying here.

Well, how do you like that. I found some evidence after all. ”

Detective Marc makes a strangling sound. Roberta crosses her arms over her chest and openly smirks at her brother’s discomfort.

“The scarf matches the one from the double homicide video and the description Aliah gave to us as belonging to Sabera,” I continue. “Come on, what does it hurt to confirm one tiny little detail?”

Detective Marc glares at all of us, but finally nods once.

“So your point stands.” I turn my attention to Roberta. “Based on the bloody scarf, Sabera was probably injured when she exited the crime scene. Meaning…”

“We don’t know if she left the area before or after the men were killed,” Detective Marc offers abruptly.

“What do you mean—”

“TOD not that precise. Based on the time stamp on the video, things were happening around then, but the precise sequence of things… Again, some more investigative work and, oh yes, evidence , would be required.”

I frown. I can tell from looking at Roberta’s and Daryl’s faces they are equally troubled.

“So to review: Sabera was in the same vicinity as the two murdered men. She was also injured in some fashion. That can’t be just coincidence, right?

Three people from the same country, in the same area, encountering violence. ”

“Hate crime?” Roberta speaks up. “Especially given the horrific nature of the killings?”

“Someone attacked her plus the two other men,” Daryl tries on.

“But why would Sabera be there, in what you described as a dangerous section of town?” I want to know. “Especially three weeks after she disappeared. What happened in between?”

“Maybe she was attacked first,” Roberta considers. “Was kidnapped or something like that? As well as the other two.” She shrugs.

“And she ends up walking away while the men are pulverized by a hammer?” Detective Marc already sounds skeptical.

Roberta doesn’t back down. “Fine. The two men were the kidnappers and someone killed them to rescue her.” Her tone states, Top that.

Her detective brother has no problem: “Then where’s her savior? She’s the only one caught on camera.”

Daryl re-enters the fray. “Bigger question, how’d she get from there to here? Warehouse district is a solid twenty miles from this resort. No way she walked it.”

“Maybe she called Uber?” Roberta suggests.

“Or her husband.” I glance at Detective Marc. “Do you have her phone?”

He shakes his head.

“Can you track it, get records of texts, voice mail messages, recent calls?”

“We’re not idiots, thank you. Up until this point, however, we haven’t had cause to subpoena records. Technically speaking, she’s still not considered missing.”

“But now that she’s a possible witness, suspect—”

“Person of interest.”

“In a double homicide. That must give you probable cause.”

“I have more avenues of investigation open to me now than I did before,” Marc agrees dryly.

I hesitate. “If Sabera was going to reach out to anyone, you would think it would be Isaad… Maybe the courier was a hint or alarm of some kind. A way for Sabera to send her husband a secret message. Certainly, based on the walls of this place alone, she’s way into coded messages.”

Detective Marc doesn’t say anything, as there’s nothing to say.

Sabera was attacked along with the men in the warehouse.

Sabera attacked the men in the warehouse.

Sabera is covered in her own blood. Sabera is covered in someone else’s blood.

Sabera is in desperate need of medical attention.

Sabera is a danger to herself and others.