Her Final Prayer - Kathryn Casey Page 0,65

haven’t, but this police department has buried cases in the past. We have stacks of unsolved cases to attest to that. By the way, did the night guys go through the backroom files looking for anything on Myles Thompkins and Carl Shipley as I asked?”

“Yeah,” Kellie said. “They skimmed through them. They left me a note this morning.”

“Saying?” I prodded.

“No luck,” she said, with a shrug. “They found a few nuisance complaints and a petty theft charge against Carl, juvenile stuff, but nothing else, nothing violent or big. Not a single file on anything involving Myles.”

It had been a long shot, but I was still disappointed. “Okay, well, any calls?” I asked.

“A few,” she said. “And Detective Mullins is waiting for you.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ll be right with him.”

I grabbed my message slips and headed to my office. Apparently, Mullins had been on the lookout for my arrival. Before I could get more than a dozen steps, he’d fallen in next to me. “We need to talk,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

Conroy was sitting at his desk reading a case file, and the younger officer’s head had snapped up, curious, when he’d heard Mullins’ voice.

“Mullins, it can keep until we get to my office,” I said. “Not here.”

“Sheesh, I…” he started grousing, but then clenched his lips and fell into a lockstep behind me.

In my office, I hung my parka on the coat rack and strapped my old brown leather bag onto the back of my chair. Then I sat down and leafed through the message slips, just to make sure there wasn’t anything important. At the bottom of the stack was a small pink envelope that smelled of vanilla, with my name printed across the front. I opened it. LEAVE NOW. YOU AREN’T WELCOME IN ALBER, it read. I stared at it for a few moments, wondering who wrote it. For just a second, I considered that perhaps Mother was behind it, but I shrugged that off. She didn’t want me here, I knew, but Mother had no problem telling me that to my face. Did she have faults? Sure. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d send an anonymous note.

“Just a minute, Mullins,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I walked out a little way and held up the envelope. “Kellie, did someone drop this off?”

“It was on the desk when I got here this morning. The night dispatcher said she found it on the floor, just inside the door.”

“She didn’t see who dropped it off? Not on the waiting room cameras?” I asked.

“No,” Kellie said, with a shake of her head. “All she could see was someone cracking the door open wide enough to slip it in.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

I turned back to Mullins, then thought of something. “Oh, Kellie, one more thing,” I said. She looked up, expectantly. “Let’s get a price on putting a camera on the front of the building, like the ones we have out back on the parking lot door.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll make a few calls.”

Nothing more to be done about the note, I returned to my office and threw it in my desk drawer. Then I turned my full attention on my lead detective, who had enough nervous energy to fuel a power plant. “Why don’t you sit down,” I suggested, gesturing toward the chair across the desk from me.

“I’ll stand,” he said, arms folded across his chest. “You want to tell me why you’re wasting time looking for Myles Thompkins? Because that’s what looking at him is, a waste of time.”

“Jeff—” I started, but Mullins wasn’t in a listening frame of mind.

“Damn it, Chief, I solved this case for you. I know who murdered my Laurel. Her mothers and me, we’re sure it had to be Carl Shipley. Couldn’t be anyone else.”

I got up and closed the door. Mullins didn’t move, so I pointed at the chair and said, “Detective, sit.” He ignored me and stayed stationary, watching me while I sat down behind my desk. I leaned back in the chair, crossed my arms, stared up at him and waited. One of the first things I’d learned as a cop is that silence can be unnerving to the person across the desk from me, and it was often the best way to get what I wanted.

Mullins fumed. A minute passed. I remained resolutely quiet. He finally took one step over and plopped down where I’d told him to. He dropped

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