Page 5 of Vision of Justice
She shivered at the mention of the trail. “It might be time to invest in a treadmill.”
“We’ll have the troopers on the overnight shift patrol the area, drive by the house to make sure everything looks okay.” A frown settled over his lips. “Would you be more comfortable calling a friend or family member to stay with you tonight? I could wait until they arrive.”
The need to lean on this man, to open up to him, was inexplicable, and had her shaking her head. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
He searched her face, opened his mouth as though he was going to protest, and then shut it. “All right. The risk that someone would follow the trail back to your house—and get past the troopers stationed at the scene—is low, but please let us know right away if something seems off. You’ve got an alarm system. That’s smart. Set it, lock up the house. You might see some back-and-forth movement on your property. Until the scene is released, the investigative team is monitoring the area, too.”
“I will.” The moment he stepped over the threshold, she’d be checking every window and door lock. She liked to think the best of people, but after today, she was going to be more cautious.
He nodded. “For now, I have your statement, but Agent Nilsson from the Federal Bureau of Investigation will want to speak with you further as well. She can come here, or you can come into the station.” Placing his hands on his knees, he stood up, and she followed, reluctant to leave the warm cocoon that the blanket had provided.
“Will she contact me?” She was stalling, something she wasn’t proud of, but she was shaken.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Together, they walked to her front door, but instead of exiting, he turned to face her. “Here’s my card. If something seems off, call. If you remember anything, no matter how small it seems, call. Okay?”
She bobbed her head in consent, and then something struck her. “I have a showing tomorrow at a gallery in Boston. I need to be there around four o’clock. Do I need to cancel?” Her stomach got that jumpy feeling again at the thought of leaving the safety of her home. She needed to squash it immediately. Giving in to the fear would only give it more power. Still, she was worried about getting through the showing considering today’s traumatic experience.
“No, Agent Nilsson will want to connect with you first thing in the morning.” He opened the door and stepped outside.
“All right then. Be safe out there.” She was torn between slamming the door shut and locking the deadbolt or watching Detective Lambert to make sure he got to his car safely. Not that he needed it. He was a big man, heavily muscled, and well-armed. If someone was hoping to catch him unaware, they’d surely rethink it given his sheer size.
He raised his brows, and the oddest look crossed his face, like he was surprised by what she had said.
“Thanks, you too. Make sure you lock this door behind me.” He gave her one last lingering look. Maybe he was having second thoughts about her safety here, that the risk of someone coming after her was greater than he’d eluded to. The thought stayed with her long into the evening, as she lay in bed with every light on in the house.
At noon the next day, Sasha pulled into the parking lot of the State Police barracks, glancing over her shoulder at the black SUV that had been behind her since she got on the highway. The car whizzed past without slowing, and a self-depreciating laugh burst from her lips. No one was stalking her, and it wasn’t like the abductor had seen her running away with Melissa. At least that was what she’d been telling herself.
She was more than ready to give her final statement to the detectives and put this experience behind her. Her cocktail dress was hanging in the back of her car, so she could drive right to the gallery depending on how long the interview took. Lack of sleep combined with an unsettling emptiness in her stomach hadn’t helped to improve her mood, but she straightened her shoulders and marched into the boxy brick building with small square windows dotted every few feet. She opened the heavy front door, and a burst of chilled air raced over her arms. She should’ve brought a sweater.
“Can I help you?” a man asked from behind a glass window shield securing the front desk area.
“I’m meeting with Agent Nilsson.” Her mouth was so dry it was hard to swallow.
The man nodded and grasped the phone. “Take a seat.” He lifted his chin toward the hard-surfaced chairs lining the wall at her back. They looked just as inviting as the building’s bland exterior, but she supposed that was kind of the point. They didn’t want people to linger. It was a serious place that handled serious business. She took out her phone and scrolled through her email to pass the time.
“Trooper Deo Sunder. I’ll walk you back to Agent Nilsson. Got held up on a call.”
She jerked, startled by the loud voice right beside her. How had she not noticed him standing there? He held out his hand, and she met his hard grasp. He had a youthful face that was almost angelic. Dark hair curled over his temples, longer than the other officers she’d seen.
“Sasha Frost. Thanks.”
Detective Lambert’s face popped into her head, as it had several times the night before. As strange as it was, when fear ballooned in her chest, picturing his hazel eyes slowed the frantic beat of her heart. When sleep just wouldn’t come, she went up to her studio and began to paint blindly until the detective’s face was staring back at her. It was the first time she’d ever been embarrassed by a painting. Not by how it looked, but because for whatever reason it calmed her. She hadn’t depended on anyone in years and wasn’t going to let her fears get the best of her.
Trooper Sunder was quick to grin and ushered her to the door beyond the front desk. “There’s a conference room down the hall here,” he said as he walked down the tiled hall, passing several officers whose hardened faces seemed more pronounced adjacent to the man’s carefree appearance. She wiped her palms, suddenly damp, against her jeans. There was nothing to be afraid of, except reliving the nightmare from the day before.
“Take a seat,” he said as they entered a small room with a table and three chairs, one of them already occupied. Agent Nilsson gave the trooper a little nod, and he disappeared through the doorway.
“Thank you for coming in, Miss Frost. I’m sorry we didn’t get more time to talk at the scene.” The agent’s pale hair skimmed her shoulders, glossy and straight. She offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The agent proceeded to ask her a series of questions. Everything from the timing of each event, to what she heard, saw, and smelled. She continued to probe until Sasha’s temples began to throb. This interview was far more stressful than the conversation she’d had with Detective Lambert. Maybe it was silly, but she wished he was sitting in on this meeting. Just looking at him seemed to ground her.
“How can you be sure that’s what you heard?” Agent Nilsson asked after Sasha told her for the second time about the eerie whistle streaming through the tree.
“Melissa and I both heard it—that’s why I carried her, so we could get away from the area faster.”
The agent was just doing her job, but an uneasy tide kept rising in her chest with each question.
“Records show a Dorothy Bigelow owns the property where you found the victim. Can you tell me about her?” Agent Nilsson put her elbows on the table and leaned toward her.