Page 7 of Little Bitter Truths
“Again?”I repeated.
“The police seem to believe that someone planned to rob my place, maybe someone who thought no one was home because my car wasn’t parked out front like usual.But then they realized my sister was there, and she … well, died because of it.Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing.But I don’t believe that.”
“Why not?”
“They didn’t take anything.”
I set my pen on the pad.“Are you sure?”
“As far as I can tell.And there’s nothing to indicate someone tried to get into the safe even though it’s in the far corner of the living room, the same room where my sister died.It’s sitting there in plain sight.”Mia leaned forward, her gaze meeting mine.“If someone wasn’t there to rob the place, they must have been there for Wren.What I don’t know is … why?”
3
Iparked outside the San Luis Obispo Police Department a little after nine the next morning and headed inside, the familiar scent of burnt coffee and printer toner greeting me the moment I stepped through the door.Some things never changed, no matter how many years passed.
Whitlock’s desk sat near the center of the bullpen, and he spotted me before I made my way across the room.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little troublemaker,” he said, pushing back from his chair with a grin.
“Good morning to you too,” I said.
He stood and pulled me into a quick hug, something he’d been doing ever since he’d come back into my life several years earlier.His sandy hair had gone gray in the years since then, but the warmth in his eyes was constant.
“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re here about the Bennett case,” he said.
“You know me all too well.”
“Word travels fast around here.”
“Is Foley around?”
Whitlock tipped his head toward Foley’s office.“He just got in.I’d venture to guess he’s made it through his first cup of coffee of the day and has already found a reason to be irritated.”
“I bet you’re right.”
He laughed and gestured for me to follow him.
We found Foley sitting behind his desk, his glasses perched low on his nose as he read through a stack of paperwork.He glanced up when we entered, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance.
“I spoke to Mia Bennett this morning,” he said.“She told me she’d hired you.”
“She did.”
Foley sighed, removing his glasses and setting them on the desk.“I suppose it was only a matter of time before you got involved.”
“Mia came to me, not the other way around, if you’re wondering.”
“You know we’re capable of solving crimeswithoutyour assistance, right?”
Whitlock snorted at the comment, and Foley shot him a disapproving look.
“What?”Whitlock said.“You know she’s going to work the case whether we like it or not.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Itisthe point.”
In the years since Foley’s promotion to chief of police, I’d grown used to the banter that surfaced whenever I told him someone had hired me to investigate one of his active cases.By now it had become a kind of ritual between us, one he seemed to enjoy, even when giving me a little pushback.The truth was, Foley had a soft side.He just wanted to feel like I respected his position, which I did.And if it helped him to think he was still in charge, it was fine by me.I, on the other hand, with the utmost subtlety, knew I was about to take over.
