poke through our stuff, I wouldn’t have rented a house through that firm.”
“I’ll be talking to her boss, but I seriously doubt she was supposed to let herself into rentals when the tenants weren’t there. That makes me wonder why she did. Have you heard from her in the recent past?”
Ms. Boyd shook her head. “Not a word. She showed me the house, I filled out the application, went into the real estate office to sign some paperwork and pay first and last months’ rent. They gave me the key and that was it.”
She and her son had lived here for eleven months, she said. And yes, she’d run into Andrea a few times since at the grocery store or pharmacy, so she must live here in town. They’d been friendly, in a casual way. “She’d ask how the house was working out, we might talk about some event here in town or the weather. Nothing really personal. I think she was only being polite.”
“Is she married? Does she have children?”
Her forehead creased. “She’s married, I’m pretty sure, but I don’t know about kids. I don’t remember her saying anything.”
His phone rang just then. He was relieved by the interruption, as he was undecided about how much more he wanted to ask her right now versus later. Particularly whether he should, bluntly or subtly, mention the physical resemblance between the two women.
After the brief conversation, he turned to her and said, “You won’t be able to get back in your house for at least twenty-four hours, probably longer. Do you have a friend you can stay with?”
“But...I need some of Jacob’s things. And mine!”
Her feet hurt, he remembered. “Give me a list of the most important things, and I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
THE DETECTIVE’S EXPRESSION was completely uncompromising. He wasn’t going to let them back in the house at all. The idea of going back in made Helen feel sick, anyway. She couldn’t until the body was gone, and even then...how would she feel cooking in that kitchen? Walking right across the vinyl where Andrea had died, even when the blood had been washed away?
Not letting herself look at the man who seemed to take up more space than he should, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know if I can keep living there.”
He had unnervingly blue eyes, which she knew were intent on her face right now. Somehow, that intensity compelled her to turn her head and meet those eyes.
“Death doesn’t have to contaminate a home,” he said calmly.
“But murder?” Helen asked around the lump in her throat.
“You knew Andrea Sloan. Would she want to haunt you?”
All she felt was revulsion. “I don’t know. How can I tell, when I have no idea why she was in my house?”
Detective Renner kept studying her for long enough to make her want to squirm. He must be a whiz at interrogations. Finally, he inclined his head. “Give yourself time. Tonight, it’s probably best if you stay at a hotel.”
Since he had that notebook handy, anyway, she dictated a list of essentials to him. “I can go buy some of the stuff if I have to, but I really need the blue stuffed bunny on Jacob’s bed, and his blankie. It’s probably on the sofa.”
“Yellow?”
“Yes, that’s it. The clothes and diapers and whatnot aren’t as important. Oh, it would be good if you could grab his potty seat from the bathroom.”
“Okay. I doubt it’s a significant part of the crime scene.” He smiled, got out and walked up to her rental, disappearing inside.
She rubbed her breastbone, as if to ease a strange pressure beneath it. Detective Renner had a nice smile, one that encouraged her to trust him, that crinkled the skin beside his eyes and softened the hard lines of an angular face she’d first thought looked dangerous. He wasn’t handsome, exactly, not like Richard. God knew she’d never trust a smooth, well-dressed, handsome man again. But trusting this detective wasn’t an option, either, even if he was a decent man.
Helen Boyd couldn’t trust anyone, a cop least of all.
In fact, the smart thing for her to do was bolt, before this cop had a chance to look into her background and discover she didn’t have one.
Her mind worked furiously, forming arguments on both sides. Running without changing identities wouldn’t do any good. Unless she reverted to her previous one temporarily...? But what if Richard was watching for Megan Cobb? At least here in Lookout, she couldn’t imagine that he’d make a move while the police were actively investigating a murder and keeping an eye on her, too.
Conclusion: she and Jacob were safest here for the moment.
She sagged, with no one to see her. She didn’t have a lot of stuff, but hated the idea of taking off with only what they were wearing. They’d done that last time, and it had been hard to start completely over. This time around, she couldn’t go without Jacob’s blankie and his bunny.
She did keep a couple of packed bags ready, in case they had to bolt. She’d put family photos and other mementos in them, so she didn’t have to carry them around in her purse all the time. Cash, too, and the birth certificate and driver’s license that would turn her back into Megan Cobb. Plus changes of clothes for both of them.
Tomorrow, she’d decide what to do. Andrea Sloan’s murder might not have anything to do with her.
And to think, she didn’t usually allow herself any illusions.
At last, she pulled herself together enough to get out of the car again and go up to her neighbor’s door. If only a chocolate chip cookie and milk could make her feel better. If it turned out Andrea had been killed in her place, Helen didn’t know how she could go on. Except, of course, she had to. Jacob needed her.
Allie needed her, too, but she couldn’t think about that, or crushing guilt might leave her unable to protect Jacob—and he had to come first.
Seth was the sole detective on a police force that had only twelve sworn officers altogether, including the chief. If absolutely necessary, he could borrow an officer or two to help in an investigation. So far, beyond keeping the responding officer on the doorstep until the CSI team and morgue van arrived, Seth didn’t want help. He preferred to talk to neighbors and then the husband himself.
He put off speaking to Ms. Boyd’s boss until morning, but did call the day-care operator, who confirmed that Jacob’s mother had picked him up about five minutes before the six o’clock deadline. Until the ME gave him a more informed time of death than he had so far, Seth couldn’t rule out Ms. Boyd. She’d have had to go home to meet the victim, kill her and then pick up her little boy while appearing completely unperturbed. Hard to see her as that cold-blooded...but it was conceivable. It meant she was a hell of an actor, though. He really believed the seesawing emotions he’d seen were genuine.
That said, his instincts were sending up some flares. He suspected that Helen Boyd had secrets.
For now, he wanted to keep her cooperative, so after making his phone calls, he located a suitcase in the hall closet and filled it with the kid’s clothes and toys first, including a blue stuffed rabbit, before invading her bedroom. He tossed sneakers into the suitcase first, took a pair of jeans off a pile in a bottom drawer, a T-shirt and zip-up sweatshirt from the middle drawer, then made himself open the top drawer. It was astonishingly neat, by his standards. He took out an oversize Eeyore T-shirt he presumed she wore as a nightgown, a plain beige cotton bra and two pairs of panties, then closed the drawer before thinking, Wait. Socks. He tossed two pairs in the suitcase, then went to the bathroom.
The crime scene investigators might not be happy with him, but he couldn’t