Page 26 of If She Sensed

And then she started on her way, curious to see who she might find at the address: the sweely supportive Birdgett or the one who had been issuing death threats.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Steve Marlo lived on the west side of the city, in a neighborhood that looked like it was still in development.On his street alone, Sloane drove by two different apartment complexes in various stages of construction.The blocks nearest the main road had the slightly worn, commercial look of a stretch that had seen better retail years: a shuttered dry cleaner, a nail salon still open with its lights on, a check-cashing place with a handwritten sign in the window.But a few streets in, it softened.The houses were small and set close together, but most of them showed signs of care.Swept porches, window boxes, and well-trimmed hedges sat in front of most of the homes.Marlo's house was a narrow two-story with white aluminum siding and a dark green door, a small concrete porch, and a recycling bin at the curb that had not yet been brought in from collection day.

Sloane parked at 9:12 and checked the address against what she had.This was it.Because it was late and she knew it was in bad form to knock on doors after eight or so, she wasted no time.She went up the porch steps and knocked—not too loud, but urgently enough to get the point across.A light was on behind the front window and she could hear something faintly from inside, either a television, or music.She then heard footsteps, and then the door opened about eight inches, stopped by a chain.

From what she could tell of the sliver of face that was revealed in the crack, the man on the other side of the gap was in his mid-thirties, with a soft build and an unshaven face.When she saw the irritation in his eyes, she showed her badge and ID.He looked at her credentials for a long moment.

"Mr.Steven Marlo?”she asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I'm Special Agent Sloane.I’m very sorry to visit at such an hour, but I’d like to ask you some questions about a case I’m working on.”

“Me?What… what for?What case?”

“I’d really prefer to come inside to discuss it all.”

“Am I in any trouble?”he asked, instantly defensive.

“I don’t believe so,” she said because it wasn’ttechnicallya lie.Not yet, anyway.

He thought it over for a moment and then unlatched the chain.He opened the door the rest of the way as he stepped back and said, "Come in."

She did so, taking a quick look around.The living room was small and functionally furnished, with a couch facing a television and a folding table against one wall that was serving as a desk.A laptop sat open on it beside a ring light that had been pushed back to make room.There were two framed prints of waterfalls on the wall, the kind sold in sets.The room was clean, but not overly so.

Moving as if he didn’t quite know where to step in front of a federal agent, Marlo sat in an armchair across from the couch.He watched her settle in on the edge of the couch with a wariness that wasn’t quite hostile, but made it apparent that he was bracing for something he expected to be unpleasant.

“So… what’s going on?”he asked.

"I want to ask you about a few things related to the Fresh Horizons forum," Sloane said."And about your whereabouts over the past three evenings."

Marlo looked at his hands briefly and then back at her."Is this about Carol Paige?"

"Among others," Sloane said."You heard about her?”

He nodded.“Yeah, a few of the people in Fresh Horizons texted and told me.It’s just… just awful.”

“So, let’s start there, with Carol,” Sloane said.“Can you tell me where you were three nights ago?"

In his defense, he didn’t seem all that offended that the conversation had so quickly turned toward proving his innocence… even though Sloane had just told him he probably wasn’t in any trouble.He took a moment to understand what was going on and then he responded.

"I was with a client," he said."It was an evening session that started at seven and it ran until about nine."

"Can you provide the client's name?"

He shifted in the chair."I run a coaching practice.My clients keep things confidential and I extend the same to them.It's how the business works.I’m sure you understand.”

"I understand that," Sloane said."But in the context of a murder investigation, I'd need you to consider whether your client would be willing to verify that voluntarily."

"I'll reach out to them."He said it neutrally, without promising anything.Sloane could tell that the mere idea of it made Marlo uncomfortable.

"And two nights ago?"

That one he answered more readily.He reached for his phone from the side table, opened his photos, and turned the screen toward her.It showed three men sitting around a table covered with board game components, cards fanned out, a couple of beer bottles visible at the edges.He then tapped the picture again to show the details, specifically that the photo was timestamped at 10:44 at night.He swiped to a second photo, showing the same table and the same men, but with slightly more beer bottles.This time, the timestamp read 11:14.

"Those guys are Brian Collier and Marc Fenton," he said."We've been doing a game night every couple of weeks for about a year.They can confirm I was there."