Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,100

text me the address?” Tom asked, his pulse ticking up. “We’re on our way.”

THIRTEEN

YUBA CITY, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY, MAY 25, 12:00 P.M.

We’re looking for Sergeant Farley,” Croft said when they got to Minnie Ellis’s home in Yuba City. She held out her badge, as did Tom. “Special Agents Croft and Hunter.”

The uniformed officer standing guard at the front door frowned. “Hunter? Tom Hunter?”

Tom knew that the cop had recognized him from his pro days, but Croft seemed oblivious. “Farley is expecting us,” she said tartly.

The cop blushed. “It’s just that I—Never mind. Here are your booties. Follow me.”

Slipping the booties over his shoes, Tom gave the man a smile. “She’s not a basketball fan.”

The cop laughed. “Well, I am. Miss seeing you on the court. Didn’t know you were . . .” He gestured at Tom’s badge. “You know.”

Tom lips twitched. “I know.”

Croft finished putting on her booties with a frown. “Really? You have fans?”

“Only a few,” Tom said.

“A few,” the officer agreed with sham gravity.

She sighed. “Officer, can you just take us to Sergeant Farley?”

“Of course.” He led them to a bedroom, where Farley stood next to a CSU tech standing on a stepladder, pulling something from the ceiling. “Sergeant Farley? The FBI is here, sir.”

Farley turned, his expression sour. “Hunter and Croft, right? Okay, this went from bad to worse. The victim, Minnie Ellis, was found in her bed by her friend, like I told you. I’ll show you the rush job the killer did to repair the broken door frame. Might have passed muster if the friend hadn’t made a fuss. ME found a needle prick in the victim’s arm.” He touched the inside of his elbow. “They’ll test for the usual heart-stoppers. Again, it might have passed muster as natural causes without the friend’s testimony. And now this.” He pointed to the CSU tech.

Tom walked as close as he could without knocking the tech off the ladder. The tech held a small wireless camera. “Was it active?”

“Still is. We might be able to trace the signal. Or not,” he added when the red light on the device suddenly died. “Looks like we were made. Dammit.”

“Dammit indeed,” Tom agreed with a scowl. “Maybe we can get prints off it.”

“Maybe,” the tech said, huffing in frustration. “There are cameras in every room. Including the bathroom.”

“Who spies on a seventy-five-year-old woman?” Croft asked. “In her bathroom?”

“Good question,” Farley said. “Somebody’s been watching her. From the dust on the camera lens, it’s likely been for a while. We don’t know who planted them, but the neighbor is a suspect in her death based on her friend’s statement, like I told you on the phone. We went to question him, which was when we found his trash.”

“This guy had a sniper rifle on that rooftop yesterday,” Tom said. “He could have shot Mrs. Ellis, but he must not have wanted the attention, so he tried to make it look like a natural death.”

“That’s what I think.” Farley checked his phone. “Excellent. We got a warrant for the house next door. I assume you want to join me?”

“You assume correctly,” Croft said. “Lead the way.”

The four of them moved through the house toward the kitchen. All of the walls were covered in photographs. Mrs. Ellis had a lot of grandchildren who seemed to love her. Plastic containers of cookies sat piled on the kitchen table along with several pies, all with little name tags.

“She loved with food,” Tom said. “Has her family been notified?”

“Her son,” Farley replied. “He was supposed to get one of the pies. The other says ‘Johnny.’ Her friend says that’s the neighbor’s name.”

“She made him a pie and he killed her?” Croft demanded incredulously. “What an asshole.”

Tom barked out a surprised laugh. “Well, yeah. But we already knew that,” he said, joining Farley at the kitchen door. The door frame had been spackled and sanded. It wasn’t an awful job. “I might not have noticed that if I wasn’t looking.”

“Which was his intent.” Farley shot an amused glance at Croft. “Him being an asshole.”

Croft wasn’t offended. “My opinion stands. Let’s check the house next door. Who owns it?”

Farley checked his notes. “Mr. Johnny Derby. My men are waiting on me to open Mr. Derby’s door. Garvin, you’re to continue securing the crime scene.”

The officer who’d recognized Tom seemed disappointed, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir.”

DJ Belmont’s house was similar to the one they’d just left, except for the broken front door. The two officers who’d busted it were rubbing their shoulders.