“Nothing new that I’ve heard this morning. I planned to pay Naomi Taylor another visit to explore the idea of Walsh being a drug user. We both know it’s a dead end, but we can’t ignore it.”

Kerri reminded herself to breathe. “It’s a setup to discredit him, no question,” she agreed.

“They—whoever they are—want this tied up.”

Kerri forced her brain to focus. Too many possibilities were bombarding her at once. “I’m certain Walsh’s family will be up in arms. The father must be livid.”

From what she’d found on her internet searches, the man was a perfectionist. He wouldn’t have anyone believing such a thing about his only son. It made no sense. The mother’s words echoed in her brain. Find who did this. Don’t be distracted or fooled by theatrics.

“No question,” Falco said.

“I want to visit Naomi with you.” Kerri turned to her partner. “I can talk to the Redmond family later this afternoon.” Whoever was investigating the girl’s disappearance would be all over the family this morning. Kerri had stepped on too many toes already.

Falco nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”

When he would have climbed out, Kerri put a hand on his arm. He turned back to her. “Thanks, Falco. I appreciate you having my back in this.”

“It’s what partners do.”

Taylor Residence

Eighteenth Avenue South

Birmingham, 9:00 a.m.

“It all happened very fast,” the older woman said.

“Ms. Taylor,” Kerri asked, “are you certain you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine, really. This nice young man stayed with me until I calmed down.” Naomi smiled in the direction of the thirtysomething who sat on her sofa.

Tim Barton claimed he had been walking by and had seen the intruder slipping around to the back of the Taylor home. He had rushed to the front door and started knocking to warn the lady of the house about the potential trouble. After hearing a scream, he had burst through the door, splintering the wood around the dead bolt, forcing the intruder to retreat out the back door—the same way he’d broken into the house.

Kerri and Falco had arrived only minutes after the perpetrator disappeared. Their first clue that something was amiss was the damaged front door standing open. They had hurried inside to find Taylor being attended to by an alleged neighbor and Good Samaritan.

“You didn’t get a good look at the intruder?” Falco asked the lady.

She shook her head. “He was wearing one of those dark ski masks.” She tutted. “How very insipid.”

Falco looked to Barton. “Was he wearing a ski mask when you saw him?”

“No. He must have slipped it on when he went around the back of the house. Like I said, he was probably six feet, medium build, brown hair. He had his back to me, so I didn’t see his face.”

“You didn’t see the make of the vehicle when he fled?” Kerri asked. These questions had been asked already, but it was important to see if his story stayed the same.

“I didn’t. I ran through the house after him, and by the time I was back around at the front, he was gone. To be honest, I’m not even sure which way he went from there. The guy had to be a serious runner to move that fast.”

Like the intruder, Barton had brown hair, was about six feet and with a medium build. His face was nondescript. The sort a witness likely wouldn’t remember. No visible scars, tats, or other identifiable markings.

“Remind me where it is you live?” Falco prodded.

“At the end of this street. I’m renting a garage apartment from a friend.” He stood. “I should go, or I’ll be late for work.”

“We may have other questions,” Kerri said. “You have a cell phone number?” The rectangular bulge in his back pocket provided the answer but not the number.

“Yeah, sure.” He recited the number.

Kerri entered it into her cell. “You said you work at the Trader Joe’s over on Summit?” That would be maybe twenty minutes away. She had shopped there a few times.

“Yeah.” He looked away. “Feel free to call me if you think of anything else.” He nodded to Taylor. “Gotta go.”

He was lying or maybe just leaving out some relevant fact. His eyes were far too evasive, his expression too closed. Kerri called after him, “Thank you, Mr. Barton.”

When he’d gone, she sat down on the sofa. “Ms. Taylor, we haven’t reported your connection to your nephew.” Considering the Walsh aspect of the case had been taken from them, she certainly hadn’t felt compelled to do so. “Have you spoken to anyone about him? Or did he ever have friends or colleagues visit him here?”

“No one.” She paused, frowned. “Except Sadie. Sadie Cross. She came over several times.” Taylor smiled. “I think they were a bit more than friends.” The frown deepened. “She said she would have someone watching after me. Do you suppose Mr. Barton is a friend of hers?”

Kerri’s uneasiness lessened a fraction. Right there was likely the fact Mr. Barton had omitted. “That would explain him happening along just when you needed him.”

Falco pulled out his cell. “Why don’t I call someone to have a look at your doors? I’m not sure those locks are going to be reliable with the way the wood is cracked.”

“I have a retired friend who lives in the neighborhood. I’ll call him. He’s always happy to help.”

“All right then, I’ll call Cross and confirm her association with your Good Samaritan,” Falco said.

While he stepped outside, Kerri asked, “Ma’am, is there anything else we can do for you while we’re here? Would you like to file an official report?”

Taylor shook her head. “No. No. That’s not necessary. You and Detective Falco being here is quite sufficient.” Her face fell. “Really, if you can find the person who killed my Asher, that’s all I need.”

“We’re optimistic that we’ll have more on that soon.” Kerri gave her a smile and hoped she wouldn’t have to explain how his murder was no longer theirs to investigate. Or the fact that Kerri desperately needed to be elsewhere because she was terrified for her daughter. “Ma’am, I realize this question may not be a pleasant one, but I have to ask. Is there any possibility Asher may have used illegal drugs, even occasionally? You’ve insisted that wasn’t possible, but can you really be completely certain?”