“Thank you,” she said.
“Of course.”
The silence between them was pregnant with anticipation as they sipped their tea. Layla kept stealing glances at Spenser, her face pale and etched with uncertainty.
“So, how is the investigation going?” she asked. “Have you found out who did it?”
“We’re still chasing a few leads,” Spenser replied evenly.
“I see. So, what brings you by here today?”
“I just wanted to give you a quick update and to ask if you’d thought of or remembered anything that might help?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing new has come to me. I told you everything I had to say the last time we spoke.”
“Okay.”
“You said you had an update?”
“Yeah. Kind of,” Spenser said. “Were you aware that Seth had security cameras hidden around his place?”
It was subtle, but Spenser saw a sudden tension arise in the woman’s shoulders. She quickly looked down into her glass and took a drink, obscuring most of her face with it. She swallowed and then nodded, seeming to have quickly gathered her bearings.
“Yeah. He’d had a few break-ins over the years and put up hidden cameras to catch anybody who came onto his property,” she told Spenser. “Some of the machines that were stolen before were expensive and not super easy to replace.”
“That’s understandable. Why didn’t you mention the cameras to me the last time I was here?”
“I… I guess I didn’t think of it because it didn’t seem particularly relevant.”
“Security footage is always relevant.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think.”
“Layla, this won’t be easy to hear, but we’ve obtained evidence that Seth was cheating on you… with multiple women—”
“What?” she gasped. “No, that’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid the evidence is irrefutable. He made secret recordings—”
“I don’t believe that. He loved me.”
Spenser heard the anguish in the woman’s voice, but what she didn’t hear was surprise, which perked her ears up. Spenser took a drink of her tea and spilled some on the front of her shirt. She hissed as she set the glass down and jumped to her feet with an abashed expression on her face.
“Dammit,” Spenser muttered.
“Hang on, let me get a wet rag,” Layla said as she jumped up.
“Can I use your restroom?”
“Yes, of course,” Layla said and pointed to the archway next to the refrigerator. “Go through the doorway there and it’s the second door on your right.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Spenser hurried out of the kitchen and walked down to the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind her. Her house was small, and this was the only bathroom in the place, so Spenser was hoping it would yield some fruit. She grabbed a washcloth out of the shower, wet it down in the sink, and dabbed at the spot on the front of her uniform shirt. It didn’t matter, she’d be taking it to the dry cleaner, anyway.
With the sink running, Spenser quietly rifled through Layla’s medicine cabinet, looking closely at the prescriptions and other bottles she kept stored there. Nothing stood out to her. Same with the drawers and the linen closet. She was coming up empty all over the place. Conscious of the time ticking away, certain that Layla would come down the hallway to check on her any minute, Spenser gave everything another quick sweep, just to be sure. And just as before, she found nothing.
“Dammit,” she muttered.
The knock at the door was impossibly loud and Spenser nearly jumped out of her skin. “Hey, are you okay in there? Can I get you anything to help with that stain?”
Spenser drew in a quick, steadying breath, then let it out slowly. Her heart was still racing, but she’d managed to regain control of herself.
“No, I’m good. Sorry, I’ll just be a minute,” she called back through the door.
“Okay. Just give me a shout if you need a stain stick or something. I’ve got lots of them.”
“Great. Thank you.”
Her entire body taut, Spenser dabbed more water on the stain, trying to make it seem as if she’d been scrubbing her shirt the whole time. She took a minute to splash some cold water on her face and focus on her breath to bring her heart rate down to a reasonable level again. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the back of the toilet and wiped her eyes, but when she dropped it into the trash can, she paused and stared down into the wads of balled-up tissues.
Biting her bottom lip, Spenser pulled a black nitrile glove out of her pocket and snapped it on. Squatting down, she pulled the can toward her and quickly started to rifle through the wads of tissues that filled it. At first, she found nothing and was starting to think this was yet another dead end in a case that had been replete with them. When she got to the bottom of the can, though, a surge of adrenaline hit her veins. With a hand that was trembling, she reached into the can and pulled out the empty box for a bottle of eye drops. It stood out because Spenser hadn’t seen a matching bottle in her cabinet. Her hand trembling with excitement, she lifted another tissue and found a long, thin plastic package… the sort of packaging that might have held a syringe.
She stared at what she’d found, torn between taking it or leaving it where it was. Spenser couldn’t have it officially processed. It wouldn’t be admissible. But if she left it, she ran the risk of Layla trashing it. Of course, neither of the items she’d found were smoking guns on their own. They were innocuous items that proved nothing. What she needed to find was the syringe with traces of the tetrahydrozoline and anadrol in it. Without that, she’d never be able to make the case.
But staring at what she’d found in the trash can filled Spenser with excitement and a building sense of anticipation. Her hunch had yielded fruit after all. Deep down in her bones, she was sure she was finally on the right path and had Hamill’s killer in her sights. She didn’t have the smoking gun yet but it was only a matter of time before she found it. Before she had the evidence to make the case. A sense of vindication washed over her. She’d scratched that itch in the back of her mind and the picture was no longer obscured. She was seeing clearly for the first time.
Opting for the safer and legally tenable route, Spenser put everything back the way she’d found it and backed out of the bathroom. She turned and headed back down to the kitchen where Layla was standing in the rounded nook, staring out at her sculpture in the backyard. Her face was forlorn… perhaps contemplating not just a lost love, but the complex feelings about a love whose life she may have taken. Layla turned as she stepped into the kitchen, her expression immediately changing to one that was more open and friendly.
