he would have known that she’d describe him to Healy. But, of course, X wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t seemed that way for a second. There had to be something else at play, something she just couldn’t see.
What if X’s main motive had never been to punk her? Perhaps she’d been sent to Healy’s for another reason. To deliver a message, or even a warning, that she didn’t know she was giving.
She thought back again to her initial meeting with Healy. When she’d first arrived at his place, he’d seemed mildly amused by her plight, but his expression had clouded the moment she’d mentioned her encounter in Florida, and by the time they were in the bar, he’d been visibly agitated. She’d assumed it was because he’d begun to conclude his identity had been compromised, but alarm bells clearly had gone off for him just from hearing about the mystery man in Islamorada.
It dawned on her then that Healy might have known X. She remembered what the cop had said: that Healy had never reported his wallet stolen. Maybe the missing wallet story had all been a lie, too. Healy and X might have been in league together and later fallen out, which had resulted in Healy’s murder. The thought chilled her.
Finally, too disturbed to focus on it any longer, she chased the thoughts away and finally drifted off into an anxious sleep.
By 10:30 the next morning, Kit was in a cab headed downtown with Baby in tow. Baby had insisted on joining the cleanup effort, and though Kit hated ruining her partner’s Saturday, she was both grateful for the help and eager to have Baby inspect her desk for any kind of disturbance. They’d called Dara earlier from the apartment and she promised she would meet them after a doctor’s appointment and before a wedding she was due to attend late in the afternoon. Kit had also used the early morning to alert the insurance company and leave voicemail messages for both O’Callaghan and Molinari.
When they were halfway to Kit’s apartment, Molinari returned the call.
“I was just hoping for an update,” Kit told her.
“An update?”
“Yes, about the case. Did you find out any more about how Matt Healy died?”
“There’s no reason not to tell you because we’ve just released a statement. Mr. Healy’s death was a homicide.”
Her heart nearly stopped
“How—how could you tell?” Next to her she felt Baby’s body stiffen, as she sensed something was up.
“Primarily from the tire tread marks. Mr. Healy was crossing the road and the driver clearly accelerated in order to strike him.”
Kit tried to fight off the image but it bullied its way into view regardless: Healy crossing an intersection, turning his head at the sudden sound of an engine being gunned, the look of terror on his face as the front hood razored into him, hurtling his body into midair. She could almost hear the awful thud.
“Do you have a suspect yet?”
“We don’t at this time, unfortunately. The person you met in the Keys is still a person of interest, but we haven’t had any luck locating him. Based on your sketch, the hotel staff confirmed he was staying there under the name Matt Healy, but he’s vanished without a trace.”
“There’s something you should be aware of from my end,” Kit said. “My apartment was broken into last night. The police have categorized it as a routine burglary, but in light of the timing, I’m worried it could be more than that.”
“I’m in the middle of something right now, but why don’t you give me the name of the detective in charge and I’ll reach out.”
Kit tapped onto O’Callaghan’s contact info and read off the phone number. Molinari said a quick goodbye, promising to follow up.
“Not good,” Kit whispered and turned to Baby. “Healy was definitely murdered.”
Baby said nothing, just grasped Kit’s hand and held it tightly. Kit appreciated the gesture. With each day she seemed to find herself ever deeper into the plot of a film noir. It was like a dream she’d had once in which a piece of paper, something she wasn’t meant to lose, had blown out of her hand and as she tried to rescue it, the wind kept snatching it farther and farther away, first through a field and then, to her alarm, into the woods, which grew darker and more sinister with each step she took, until finally she was horribly lost, stumbling over tree roots and rocks with the paper no longer anywhere in sight.