Deadly Row, A - By Casey Mayes Page 0,49

in all of the newspapers,” Barton said. “I just have to imagine how you must have felt.”

“Worse than I can ever describe,” I admitted. “But enough about me. What exactly are we going to do at Cindy’s place?”

“I want to collect a few personal things, and then I’ll have someone else go through the rest of it.” His voice choked a little. “This is probably a bad idea from every angle you examine it, but it’s something that I have to do. Thank you for going with me.”

“I’m honored you asked me,” I said.

He started to reach out to pat my hand, pulled back for a moment, and then lightly touched my fingers. No words were spoken, but a great deal was understood in that instant.

We reached an ordinary-looking apartment complex, and as the driver stopped the car and opened our door, Barton hesitated before getting out.

“I’ll do it myself, if it would help,” I said. “It can’t be easy for you to go inside.”

He took a deep breath, and then said, “No, I can manage it. I’m not at all certain how long I’ll be able to keep up my nerve, so let’s get this over with.”

I followed him out of the car, and as we stood at the apartment door, I saw that his hands were shaking as he held the key out toward the lock.

“Let me do that,” I said as I took the key from him.

“Thanks,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

When I opened the door, a wave of disinfectant smell swept over me. I wasn’t sure that the odor was better than what it had disguised, but then again, I didn’t have any experience with dead bodies.

It was a typical young single woman’s place, decorated with a wide palette of oranges, browns, and greens. She had a framed Monet poster over her couch.

“I have the original at home,” he said softly as he studied it. “If I’d known she loved it, I would have given it to her.” He wiped away his tears, and then he said, “I’m being ridiculous, I know. I’ve got hundreds of people who work for me.”

“She was a lot more than just an employee to you. It hurts losing someone you care about.”

He nodded. “This is more difficult than I ever imagined. I’m sorry, Savannah. I just can’t do it.”

I hugged him, and though it was clear he wasn’t all that comfortable with anyone embracing him, he let me. When he pulled away, I said, “You don’t need to be here. I’ll go through and collect anything that looks like it might have sentimental value to you, and then I’ll bring it back to the hotel.”

“There was a necklace, sterling silver, with a cow pendant on it in black and white. She loved it, but it wasn’t found when her body was discovered.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” I said.

He nodded numbly, and then left without saying another word. After the car pulled away, I dead-bolted the door behind me and started digging into the apartment, and more importantly, Cindy Glass’s life.

CINDY WAS NEAT, WHICH WAS A REAL PLUS FOR ME, GIVEN the search I had ahead of me. Checking out her place was a lot easier because of it, but at the same time, it made me sad to think that this tidy young woman’s life was cut so short.

There was no way around it; I was going to have to pry into her most personal things if I was going to help Barton.

The first place I looked was her lingerie drawer, knowing that many women liked to hide things there. She had a great deal of conservatively cut panties for the week, but there were also a few brightly colored pairs that had to be reserved for the weekend. Under it all, wedged into the back of the drawer, I found a photograph of Cindy and a young man that couldn’t be identified by the snapshot. They’d been skiing, and he had a fit build, but his face had been haphazardly torn out of the photograph, leaving nothing really identifying in what was left behind. Who had it been, I wondered, and how long ago had she and he broken up? From the way the photograph was torn, I was guessing that the breakup hadn’t been Cindy’s decision. I took the picture and put it on the bed where I was starting a pile of things to take to Barton. I’d have to go over everything I