Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,47

usual items: shaving paraphernalia, deodorant, painkillers, and a small unlabeled bottle of pills. Ingrid reached in for it and checked the reverse—no label there either. She opened the childproof cap and shook a few pills into her hand. Small blue and white capsules rolled around her palm. She returned all but one of them to the bottle and screwed on the lid. She held the capsule between thumb and forefinger, trying to read what was printed in tiny letters on the side. After some serious focusing, she made out a manufacturer’s name, a four digit number on one side and a dosage: 30mg, on the other. There was no indication what the drug was called.

“Do you know what it is?” Gurley asked her.

Ingrid had no idea. But she knew a woman who would. Meanwhile, she didn’t want Gurley jumping to any conclusions about what they’d found. They didn’t even know if the unmarked bottle belonged to Kyle Foster or his wife. “It’s a medication for…” She wanted to choose something Gurley wouldn’t question. “For severe menstrual cramping.”

“Really?”

It seemed Gurley questioned everything no matter what.

“Sure. I take them myself sometimes.” She waited for Gurley to turn away before she slipped the single pill into her pants pocket, then followed him into the next room—the kids’ bedroom. On one side of the room was a narrow single bed, a Spiderman comforter cover draped over the edge. On the other was a wooden cot, a furry animal mobile suspended above it. On a dresser next to the cot was a baby monitor.

It all seemed so regular. So normal. How could it have gone so wrong?

The final room was the master bedroom. Gurley hesitated at the door. “What was it you were hoping to find in here, anyway?” he asked.

“Don’t you think it’s worth looking? Just in case we uncover something your team may have missed?” She pushed past him into the room and opened up the closet. Carrie Foster had a lot of shoes, or at least, a lot of shoe boxes. Ingrid glanced along the row of rectangular cardboard containers. The box furthest away from her had a dark stain in one corner. She reached into the closet and grabbed it. The cardboard was wet. She pulled off the lid. Inside was a bottle of vodka, its top a little loose.

Gurley finally made it into the room. “Kyle Foster is a secret drinker?”

“I found it on Carrie’s side of the closet.”

“Where better for him to hide his nasty little habit?”

“I would think pretty much the worst place ever.” Ingrid had no reason to believe it didn’t belong to Carrie Foster.

A bang sounded downstairs. “Hello? Carrie? Are you back? Did you know your door is wide open?”

Ingrid shoved the bottle back in its box and shoved the box back in the closet.

24

A few seconds later, a youngish, dark-haired, pale-skinned woman dressed in a light summer dress and baggy cardigan appeared in the hallway.

“Jesus Christ! Who the hell are—” She turned her head and saw Gurley. “Oh, I see.” She wrapped her arms around the cardigan, hugging herself as if a sudden chill had blown into the room. “Does this mean? Is Molly…?”

“As far as we know Molly’s condition hasn’t changed.” Ingrid reminded herself again to check in with Radcliffe.

“Should you even be in here? What are you doing anyhow?” The woman’s accent was pure south Boston. “Is this even legal?” She marched over to Gurley. “You can’t go rummaging through people’s private, personal stuff.” She held her head up high. “You got no right to do that.”

Ingrid introduced herself quickly, then explained, “We’re only here because it may assist us in finding Tommy. Anything that helps track him down is worth doing, wouldn’t you say?”

The woman hadn’t taken her eyes off Gurley. “I want Tommy to be found as much as anyone. I’m just looking out for Carrie.”

“We appreciate that—I’m sure Carrie does too. Maybe I could ask you a few questions?” Ingrid was careful to use the singular pronoun. As she did, she made sure to stare at Gurley and raise her eyebrows, hoping he’d take the hint.

He stood his ground. It was obvious this woman wasn’t going to speak freely in front of a member of Security Forces, why wouldn’t he just accept that?

“Major Gurley, I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary,” Ingrid said. “I can make sure the property is secure when I leave.” She nodded expectantly at him. “Didn’t you say you had to report to