Page 49 of The Murder Inn
“What’s he say?”
Nick passed her phone over and watched her reading thetext. He felt the alarms begin to sound inside his brain, louder and louder as the seconds passed.
“What does that mean?” Breecher asked.
“You tell me what it means,” Nick said. “You said when you left me in the car in Providence that you walked around the block and saw no sign of Danielle Master.”
Breecher frowned at him.
“And that was true,” she said. Her tone was hard.
Nick showed her his screen. The news headline that was the most recent match for Danielle Master’s name.
HOMELESS WOMAN SLAIN IN PROVIDENCE, POLICE CALLING FOR INFORMATION
“Says here that she was found murdered in an alleyway last night,” Nick said. “Happened around six. Two blocks away from the Chapel Street shelter.”
“Jesus,” Breecher said. She took the phone from him and scrolled the story. Nick watched her eyes. They weren’t reading. Just looking at the story on the screen.
“What… what are you saying?” Breecher’s voice was rising, her eyes narrowing. “That I left you last night, went and killed Danielle, and then came back to you at the bar and told you I’d found nothing? That you think I…killed a person… and then went and had dinner with you?”
“Don’t give me that,” Nick said. “Don’t pretend you didn’t kill guys over there and then sleep like a baby right afterward.”
“Nick, this is crazy,” Breecher said. “What are you saying? That this is me? That this… this whole thing. It’s me?”
“Maybe,” Nick said, his mind reeling. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe it wasyou,” Breecher said quietly. Nick had to push aside the fury and confusion storming in his mind to look at her, to listen to her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you say you have these episodes.” She shrugged. “You blank out. Do weird things you can’t remember doing. Maybe when I walked away from you at the car, you went for a walk. You found Danielle and you killed her.”
Nick’s jaw was locked tight. The sheets squeaked as he twisted them in his fists.
“Maybe you went to see Dorrich,” Breecher went on. “And he told you something that made you snap. How do I know?”
“Get out,” he said.
“Nick, don’t do this. I’m just saying, we can question this thing to death. But that doesn’t help us.” She reached for him. “We need to stick together. We—”
“Get. Out.”
Breecher waited. Nick didn’t budge. In time she gathered her things and pulled her clothes on. He watched her slip out the bedroom door into the darkness.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
MY PHONE BLASTED me out of a deep but troubled slumber at 8 a.m. I calculated that I’d had four hours’ sleep, felt ancient and stiff. I grabbed the phone and answered before I even looked at who was calling.
Vinny’s gravelly accent was unmistakable.
“You’re gonna wanna get down to the Rusty Rabbit right now, Bill.”
“The what?” I asked.
“Diner at the south end of Main Street,” Vinny said. I could hear plates clattering and people talking in the background of his call. “Something here you should see.”
I was approaching the Rusty Rabbit on legs that felt like rubber, my balance and coordination barely holding out, when I saw a truck parked outside withDRIVER CONSTRUCTION SERVICESwritten on the side.