99 Truths : A Frankie Johnson FBI Thriller (FBI Local Profiler Series Book 1) by Lori Lacefield

Author:Lori Lacefield [Lacefield, Lori]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Book Media, LLC
Published: 2020-08-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

After retracing her steps back to the car, Frankie decided to pay a visit to Heather Montoya, the young woman who’d discovered Lianna shortly after her murder. Frankie had never spoken to her, and given that Heather had experienced the rare opportunity to see the crime scene first hand before the techs had photographed, altered, collected, or bagged anything, that made her an important witness. Many in law enforcement didn’t put much stock into what first witnesses upon a scene saw or heard, preferring to rely solely on the evidence the techs documented, but Frankie had often found their recollections useful.

She wasn’t certain if Heather would be home, but to her surprise, the young woman answered on the third knock. Frankie hadn’t met her before, but the woman’s appearance alarmed her, signifying a mental struggle with what she’d been through. Her chestnut hair hung uncombed, and dark, puffy bags lined her almond-colored eyes. Frankie noticed the apartment was equally untidy, dirty dishes piled in the sink, blankets crumpled on the couch, and kitty litter spilled in the corner. It was an odd contrast with the prettier items that hung on the walls and decorated the room—a painting of Paris at night, an artfully crafted dried pink-and-white flower arrangement in a vase, an arched cat figurine.

Heather cinched the bathrobe she wore tighter around her waist and invited Frankie in. “I haven’t been able to leave the house. I can’t get the image of her out of my head. Or the smell.”

Frankie offered her a hug. “I’m very sorry you had to see that,” she said. “Even the most seasoned detectives can become affected by such a heinous crime. Have you sought counseling?”

Heather shook her head, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her right ear. “No, not yet. But the detective—the one with the wavy hair? He gave me some names of people I could call.”

“You should do that.”

Frankie turned to see an orange-and-white cat run from the hall behind the couch, followed by the gray tabby Heather used to pet sit, freshly cleaned of its previous owner’s blood.

“The apartment complex only allows one pet, but they were sympathetic under the circumstances,” Heather said. “They told me I could keep both for now. Stewart hasn’t even asked about him.”

“You’ve spoken with him?”

“Only by text. I told him I had Rex—that’s the cat—and if he needed anything from the apartment, to let me know. He just typed back it’s all evidence now. That’s it. No I’m sorry you had to find her, or how are you holding up? Nothing except asking me if I was the one she went out with Wednesday and who left her in that bar. He was accusatory, like it was my fault. I wasn’t even with her. Nobody was. Just that guy.”

Frankie considered that. Stewart truly was looking for who Lianna had went out with that night, like he’d stated, or at least was pretending to. “Stewart told us he didn’t know or hadn’t heard of Joe Archuletta before.

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