Dead of Winter by Annelise Ryan

Author:Annelise Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-12-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Once our plans for the next day are finished, Richmond goes back to the police station to work on the other leads, and Hurley walks me back downstairs to my office. I’m surprised to see that it’s only eleven-thirty in the morning. I feel like this day has lasted twelve hours already. Christopher will be in soon, and I start to rethink my commitment to staying here for the rest of the day. Not only is the storm coming in, I’m feeling pretty beat. Between my nighttime escapades, getting shot, and the emotional drain of the Paulsen case, I feel like I’ve been working for days straight. My bed is sounding really good to me about now.

I’m about to say as much to Hurley, and then my cell phone rings. When I look at the number and see that it’s Izzy’s partner, Dom, calling, I feel a worm of worry wriggle in my gut, thinking that something might be wrong with Matthew. Then I remember that Matthew is home with Emily today rather than with Dom, and I hope the wriggle isn’t the hallmark of something else going on in my gut.

“Hey, Dom, what’s up?”

“Mattie, I need you. I need your help right away. Something awful has happened.”

My heart lurches. “Is it Juliana?”

“No, no, sorry. She’s at your sister’s house. I’m down at the theater. We had a dress rehearsal today and I dropped Juliana with Desi so I could come down here for a few hours.”

“Then what is it?” Hurley is staring at me, brows raised in curiosity.

“It’s Roger Dalrymple,” Dom says. I have no idea who Roger Dalrymple is. “He’s here, and he’s dead!”

“Did you call the police?”

“No, I called you first. I tried to call Izzy, but I got his voice mail.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, thinking. “Stay where you are, and make sure everyone else stays there, too. Don’t let anyone leave, and don’t let anyone touch anything. Hurley is here with me. We’ll be there in two shakes, okay?”

“Okay,” Dom says, his voice quavering like he’s about to cry. “Please hurry.”

“I will.” I disconnect the call and fill Hurley in on what Dom said.

“Who is this Roger Dalrymple person?” Hurley asks when I’m done.

“I have no idea. I don’t really keep up with Dom and his thespian group activities. But our receptionist, Cass, is involved with the group, too. Maybe she knows. Should we call Richmond back?”

“No,” Hurley says, shaking his head. “I’m up next anyway. Let him stay focused on the Paulsen case and I’ll take this one.”

I pick up my desk phone and dial Cass’s extension. After the phone rings six times, I’m starting to think Cass must not be there, and I prepare to hang up rather than leave a voice mail. Then she answers.

“Medical examiner’s office,” she says. Her tone is not its usual, chipper self, and there’s no hint of her earlier British accent.

“Cass, it’s Mattie. I just got a call from Dom and he—”

“Yeah, I just hung up from him,” she says.

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