She stopped, wondering if she’d said too much. She had to quit disclosing what her brother had told her.
Chase wasn’t satisfied. “There must have been witnesses. Someone saw something .”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone did.”
He stared her down as though she were hiding something. “Can’t you ask your brother?”
“I did ask him. He can’t tell me everything.”
He got up and paced across the cheap carpet, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. His short black hair had a cowlick in the back. “She shouldn’t have even been there. What was she doing? She could have studied anywhere.”
Someone knocked on the door, and shoving his hands into his front pockets, he went to it, peered out through the peephole. Whoever it was didn’t interest him, so he didn’t answer.
His phone vibrated again, but he ignored that, too. Parker watched as it crawled slowly across the coffee table. “Did Brenna have any angry ex-boyfriends?” she asked.
She saw something pass across his face—almost a wince, so quick and so slight that she almost thought she imagined it. “I don’t think so. But … there were those phone calls.”
Marta straightened from her slump. “What phone calls?”
“I don’t know … we’d be together and she’d get up and go into another room. I’d hear her fighting with someone. When I asked who it was she’d say it was her dad, but I didn’t believe her. I thought it was some other guy.”
The hair on Parker’s neck began to rise. Now they were getting somewhere.
“She didn’t have another guy,” Marta said. “She was in love with you.”
“Did you tell the police about those calls?” Parker asked.
“Sure. They badgered me into remembering every detail. Every bite we’d eaten together. Every word we’d said in the last two weeks. I told them everything I could think of.”
“They’ll get the phone records,” Parker said. “They’ll figure out who she was talking to.”
“Are you sure? Because I’ve read about witnesses giving information to the police and they don’t use it. She had millions of phone calls. How will they sort out which ones they were?”
She knew it was a tall order. “Did you give them times of the calls?”
He nodded. “I remembered the ones in the last couple of days.”
“Good. I’ll remind Gibson to follow up on that. But what makes you think she was lying about it being her dad?”
“Because why would she go into another room? Why would she not want me to hear? She was never shy about complaining about her parents.”
No college kid was. “Have you talked to them?”
“Yeah, her dad called this morning. I’ve never heard him sound so … weak. Had all these questions. Same ones the cops asked.” He stared at the floor. His white face looked dry, aged, in the dimly lit apartment. “Don’t you think it’s odd that some girl who was paid to be working would give up her shift to an unpaid intern?”
“Not really. There’s not a lot that has to be done at night.” The responsibilities at the front desk were minimal at night. Cat probably had confidence that Brenna could handle it. How could she have known the danger that awaited? Like Parker, Cat was probably feeling a sick kind of relief that it hadn’t been her.
Chase stopped mid-pace and turned back to her. “Don’t you find that odd?”
“What?”
“That the woman … Cat, was it? That she would leave like that. It’s suspicious, don’t you think? Like she was setting Brenna up.”
“No. She’s my friend. I know her—”
“Is everybody your friend? Do you know what they’re thinking? What they’re feeling? Do you know everything they do?”
She suddenly felt defensive. “Of course not.”
“Then how do you know?”
Her face was hot, and she looked at Marta. The girl looked up at her, apology crinkling her forehead. “Chill, okay, Chase? She didn’t do anything.”
He swallowed, then stared at Parker as if certain that she had,
Chase wasn’t satisfied. “There must have been witnesses. Someone saw something .”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone did.”
He stared her down as though she were hiding something. “Can’t you ask your brother?”
“I did ask him. He can’t tell me everything.”
He got up and paced across the cheap carpet, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. His short black hair had a cowlick in the back. “She shouldn’t have even been there. What was she doing? She could have studied anywhere.”
Someone knocked on the door, and shoving his hands into his front pockets, he went to it, peered out through the peephole. Whoever it was didn’t interest him, so he didn’t answer.
His phone vibrated again, but he ignored that, too. Parker watched as it crawled slowly across the coffee table. “Did Brenna have any angry ex-boyfriends?” she asked.
She saw something pass across his face—almost a wince, so quick and so slight that she almost thought she imagined it. “I don’t think so. But … there were those phone calls.”
Marta straightened from her slump. “What phone calls?”
“I don’t know … we’d be together and she’d get up and go into another room. I’d hear her fighting with someone. When I asked who it was she’d say it was her dad, but I didn’t believe her. I thought it was some other guy.”
The hair on Parker’s neck began to rise. Now they were getting somewhere.
“She didn’t have another guy,” Marta said. “She was in love with you.”
“Did you tell the police about those calls?” Parker asked.
“Sure. They badgered me into remembering every detail. Every bite we’d eaten together. Every word we’d said in the last two weeks. I told them everything I could think of.”
“They’ll get the phone records,” Parker said. “They’ll figure out who she was talking to.”
“Are you sure? Because I’ve read about witnesses giving information to the police and they don’t use it. She had millions of phone calls. How will they sort out which ones they were?”
She knew it was a tall order. “Did you give them times of the calls?”
He nodded. “I remembered the ones in the last couple of days.”
“Good. I’ll remind Gibson to follow up on that. But what makes you think she was lying about it being her dad?”
“Because why would she go into another room? Why would she not want me to hear? She was never shy about complaining about her parents.”
No college kid was. “Have you talked to them?”
“Yeah, her dad called this morning. I’ve never heard him sound so … weak. Had all these questions. Same ones the cops asked.” He stared at the floor. His white face looked dry, aged, in the dimly lit apartment. “Don’t you think it’s odd that some girl who was paid to be working would give up her shift to an unpaid intern?”
“Not really. There’s not a lot that has to be done at night.” The responsibilities at the front desk were minimal at night. Cat probably had confidence that Brenna could handle it. How could she have known the danger that awaited? Like Parker, Cat was probably feeling a sick kind of relief that it hadn’t been her.
Chase stopped mid-pace and turned back to her. “Don’t you find that odd?”
“What?”
“That the woman … Cat, was it? That she would leave like that. It’s suspicious, don’t you think? Like she was setting Brenna up.”
“No. She’s my friend. I know her—”
“Is everybody your friend? Do you know what they’re thinking? What they’re feeling? Do you know everything they do?”
She suddenly felt defensive. “Of course not.”
“Then how do you know?”
Her face was hot, and she looked at Marta. The girl looked up at her, apology crinkling her forehead. “Chill, okay, Chase? She didn’t do anything.”
He swallowed, then stared at Parker as if certain that she had,
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