Where Evil Waits by Kate Brady Page B

especially,” Kara lied, and clamped her jaw shut. Say no more.
    “Was there anything she was worried about? Anything strange going on with her?”
    “If there was, she didn’t say anything to me about it.”
    “Do you know whether she had any plans for the rest of that evening?” Connelly asked.
    “We didn’t talk about that.”
    There was an awkward pause while the two cops glanced at each other, apparently deciding whether or notwhat she was saying was worth bringing her in to talk to the detectives. They didn’t know Penny was dead yet; that much was certain. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be following leads in the middle of the night.
    Connelly licked the tip of his pencil. “What was she wearing when you saw her?”
    The question always asked of the last person to have seen a missing person alive. Kara closed her eyes. “A dark gray skirt and light blouse. Cream. And she had a scarf—”
    “Ms. Chandler?” Connelly said. “Are you all right?”
    No. She wasn’t all right. She drew a deep breath, the room filling with secrets and lies, pressing down on her from every angle. She could almost feel Varón listening in.
    You can do it.
    “She was wearing a purple scarf with stripes,” she said. “I hope she’s all right. She’s been through enough.”
    Langford nodded. “You both have. Tough week, huh?” Everyone knew that Kara had been with Louie Guilford when he died last night. Her family’s friendship with the Guilfords was well known. The boys had always called the adults “aunt” and “uncle,” and Seth and Aidan were more like brothers than friends.
    “Yes,” she said. “Tough week.”
    “Let us know if you think of anything that might help us, okay?”
    “I will. Of course.” Relief hovered just out of reach as they moved toward the door. Almost there. Then Langford turned around.
    “Ms. Chandler, I was wondering… Where have you been tonight? I didn’t expect you to be dressed at this hour.”
    She strung out a little indignation. “I spent most of the day with Sally and Seth Guilford. It was draining. I guess I fell asleep on the couch.”
    “Sure,” Langford said, and backed off. “Okay. Good night, then.”
    She shut the door behind them and tipped her forehead against it. Langford was no idiot. He was going to call the lead detective on Penny Wolff’s case right now, and by morning—if not before—Kara would be called in for questioning.
    She forced herself to take a deep breath, feeling as if she was aboard a runaway train. She didn’t know where it was going or why she was on it. She only knew it was running too fast to make sense of the twists and turns, and that with every curve it picked up speed.
    Now, the train was headed for a gorge, with Luke Varón driving.
    “Let’s go.”
    Varón’s voice. She turned and looked at him, a known murderer with his suit coat hooked slightly on a gun holster, as if he’d had his hand on it the whole time she was talking to Langford and Connelly—and her son standing right next to him. The reality of that threatened to steal what little strength she had left in her limbs. She wanted to close her eyes and open them again and have Varón disappear, along with this whole insane idea about trying to take Aidan into hiding.
    But when she closed her eyes, she saw Penny Wolff. And Louie Guilford.
    And Andrew.
    Varón watched the cruiser pull away. He turned around. “We’re going down to the dock. You two walk on the path to leave tracks; I’ll head through the woods.”
    Kara took Aidan’s hand and they followed him through the house toward the back door, Varón showing knowledge of the floor plan that took Kara by surprise.
I know. I collected the bullets.
He must have come straight to the house after they’d spoken in the alley. Rigged the boat—or had one of his minions do it—found his way inside, and made himself at home waiting for her.
    Very efficient. If she weren’t so scared, she’d be impressed.
    She locked the