Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn #6)- Lisa Regan Page 0,57

see. Your impressions.”

Josie edged around the debris to the door that led to the front of the house. She walked carefully through the dining and living rooms to the front door. Nothing looked disturbed—not even the locking mechanism on the entry door. She walked back to the kitchen.

“She let him in,” Josie said.

“There was no forced entry,” Oaks agreed. “My agents and your guy had a look around. No broken windows, no interruption in the privacy fence, no disturbance of the sliding glass doors.”

“But then they got to the kitchen and at some point, she realized he was a threat. What do we know about Wendy Kaplan?”

Oaks pulled out his phone and scrolled through some notes. “As you know, my team checked out everyone considered close to Amy and Colin Ross. Kaplan was near the top of the list with the nanny. Here we go—she was older than Amy, in her late fifties. Divorced, no children. No boyfriends. Worked in the publishing industry in New York City for many years. Now she does some freelance work from home. Bought this house about three years ago. No record. No red flags. Alibi for the exact time Lucy disappeared—she was on a Skype conference call with several colleagues who confirmed her presence on the call, as did her actual phone and computer records.”

“So she lived alone?”

“Yes.”

“A woman from a large city living alone would not let a stranger into her house just like that,” Josie said.

“Maybe he threatened her,” Oaks said. “Pulled the knife or even a gun and demanded she let him in.”

“You get anything from the neighbors?” Josie asked. “Directly across the street?”

“My agents are still canvassing but first thing we did was go to the house across the street. No one home. It is a weekday, remember? Most people are at work.”

“But he would have needed a vehicle to get up here,” Josie said.

“Yes,” Oaks agreed. “That’s why I’ve got agents out canvassing the rest of the development to see if anyone who was home saw an unusual vehicle.”

Josie looked around the kitchen once more. “If he had threatened her at the door, she would have fought then. She never would have let him in in the first place.”

“How can you be sure?”

Josie motioned to the destruction all around them. “I know this kind of fight,” she said. “I’ve fought this kind of fight. The kind of person who fights this hard—the single woman living alone who fights this hard— doesn’t let a strange man into her home.”

“How scientific,” Oaks said. At first, Josie thought he was being sarcastic but when she saw his smile, she knew he was joking. Mostly. It was true. It wasn’t a good argument. Not based on facts or science, just on Josie’s gut. But her gut rarely failed her.

Oaks continued, “How does he get her to let him in then?”

Josie shrugged. “Manipulation. I’d check to see if Wendy had any home repairs or anything like that scheduled for today. Maybe he was impersonating someone else. Either that or he told her a story, lied to her and told her something that was intriguing enough to her to get her to let him in. Then they get to the kitchen and at some point, she realizes he’s going to hurt her or kill her, and she tries to fight him off.”

Josie went back into the other rooms and took a more careful look around. The living room was sparsely furnished with a single couch, coffee table and a large screen television on the wall. It was a room for one, but it gave off a relaxing, joyful vibe with bright contemporary artwork hanging from the walls and a small sculpture of a happy Buddha in the center of the coffee table. The dining room was more of a home office with a desk and several bookshelves. An open laptop sat in the center of the desk. To the left of it was a pile of typed pages. It was a manuscript, Josie realized. Its title was The Mistaken but the name of the author had been torn off. Perhaps she had used it for scrap paper? Behind it was a coffee mug with a pile of books on it beneath the words: Drink Coffee. Read Books. Be happy. Kaplan had been using the mug as a pen-holder. Perhaps she had been on the phone, needed to write something down quickly, snatched a pen from her cup, and scribbled on the first thing available, the