Davies had crammed into her family’s home. Personally, D.D. thought there was barely enough room for Mrs. Davies inside the house, let alone an escaped killer.
They reconvened with Mrs. Davies in the rear of the house, finding her sitting on the sofa, stroking a black-and-gray tiger cat.
“Can you think of anyplace Shana would go?” Phil asked.
“Please. It’s been thirty years. How many people have come and gone? Not even the city is the same, post–Big Dig and all.”
D.D. and Phil exchanged glances. Fair enough.
“Mrs. Davies,” D.D. spoke up. “Yesterday you mentioned a foster girl, AnaRose Simmons, who was moved by the state after Shana’s . . . incident.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Davies’s expression softened immediately. “She was so beautiful. This pretty little thing, but so shy. Barely spoke two words, but sweet, very sweet.”
D.D. had been thinking about it all night. She liked Samuel Hayes, and his posting of items on a murderabilia site definitely bore checking out. But if they were looking for a female . . . what about a little girl returned from a loving foster home to her crack addict mom’s care due to Shana’s transgression? Such a thing certainly would’ve pissed D.D. off.
“Have you heard from AnaRose at all?”
“Oh, no. I never followed up. I told you that.”
“What about her, trying to get in contact with you, once she was of age?”
Mrs. Davies gazed at her sympathetically. “It doesn’t work like that, dear. You think it might. But the number of kids I’ve seen. Most come and go, and when they go, they’re gone. That’s what the lifestyle does to them. They don’t cling. They live only in the present, for they’ve learned the hard way, it’s all they have.”
D.D. frowned. “And AnaRose?”
“I don’t know what became of her. If anyone would, it might be Samuel. He was like a big brother to her. They might have kept in touch.”
“Speaking of Mr. Hayes—”
“Samuel?”
“We’re worried about him as well,” D.D. informed her. Across from her, Phil nodded, playing along. They hadn’t been able to locate Samuel thus far. Why not recruit Mrs. Davies to their cause?
D.D. paused. “Do you maybe have a cell phone number? A better way for us to reach him?”
“Oh. Oh yes. Just one moment.”
Mrs. Davies disappeared into the kitchen. D.D. tried hard not to think about that space, the piles of unwashed dishes, the rotting food, the cat hair covering the counters. A few minutes later, the older woman returned with a scrap of paper in her hands.
“I could call him if you’d like?” Mrs. Davies offered brightly.
“That would be great.”
Mrs. Davies dialed the number. Nothing like a suspect receiving a call from a known number. Mrs. Davies was making D.D. and Phil’s lives easier all the time.
Enough time had passed that D.D. was growing concerned, when:
“Samuel!” Mrs. Davies exclaimed. Her face split into a warm smile. All these years later, it was easy to see she still considered him to be like a son to her.
It almost made D.D. feel guilty.
“Have you heard the news, then?” Mrs. Davies continued. “Shana Day escaped. I have two fine detectives at my house now. They’re worried about me, Sam. And they’re worried about you, too.”
A pause, Samuel saying something back. Whatever it was, it made Mrs. Davies frown.
“Well, I don’t know. . . . I . . . Yes . . . No. Here. You talk to them. They’ll want to hear from you directly anyway.”
Without further prompting, Mrs. Davies thrust the phone into D.D.’s hand. She lifted it to her ear.
“Samuel Hayes? Detective D. D. Warren, BPD. We’re working with the task force to locate Shana Day.”
Phil nodded encouragingly. Emphasize Shana Day. They weren’t suspicious of Samuel at all. No, he wasn’t currently a lead suspect in the murder of three women, let alone under suspicion because he had possible ties to their other lead suspect, AnaRose Simmons. No, they weren’t dying to interrogate him.
“In these situations,” D.D. continued briskly, “it’s a matter of protocol to visit an escaped inmate’s known associates. In this case, that includes you. But I’ll be honest, Mr. Hayes. Given Shana’s track record, it’s not so much that we believe you’re involved with her escape, as much as we have reason to fear for your safety.”
“What?” Samuel Hayes sounded startled.
“It would be best if we met in person,” D.D. continued smoothly. “We can be at your residence ASAP. Address?”
“My safety? But, but, but . . .”
She had him right where they wanted him. Not defensive about a police visit but