all. Why even have a calendar or an address book if youâre not going to write in it?â She handed it back to Nappa.
They walked in silence, each wondering where this case was going, how it would end. Homicide detectives came from a place of speculation mixed with a childâs hope. A string as thin as the chance the case would end in a happy, shiny place, or at the very least a place filled with justice. An odd word, Megan thought: justice . Thereâs an aftermath of inequity when that word is heard; a sense of one searching to find the strength to overcome tragedy, a cruelty, a repression, discrimination, a sin. Megan had witnessed most of these. Few threads remained to cling to, yet she, in a deep and private place, tried.
_____
Megan was using the coffee more as a hand warmer and less as a caffeine jolt as they walked over to Madison Avenue. âI was thinking Iâd like to stop by the crime scene again and take a better look. I want to do another walk-through of her apartment.â
âSounds good,â Nappa responded as they entered Katelyn Mooreâs building.
The pale stone exterior sandwiched between two businesses made the Madison Avenue building seem more commercial than residential. A doorman standing in the alcove to the right of the steps allowed them into the building. Recessed lighting highlighted the splashes of jade in the black marbled tile, but was barely enough to illuminate the narrow hallway to the only elevator in the building. Lemon-scented ammonia filled the air as the buildingâs porter pushed a mop back and forth at the end of the hall.
They boarded the elevator and Megan pressed for the fifth floor. Nappa repeated the action as the doors closed.
âI just pressed it. Why do you always do that?â
âDo what?â
âPress the elevator button after Iâve already pushed it? Jesus Christ.â
âI donât know. Itâs just a habit. Whatever.â
âItâs not like pressing it a second time is going to get us there any faster. Itâs not like me pressing the button had a neutral effect on the mechanics of the elevator system and you suddenly had the golden touch. Itâs not like the stupid light to the fifth floor wasnât already lit.â
They both stood, arms folded, staring forward.
âDo you want us both to ring the doorbell, too?â
âI should have taken the stairs,â Nappa said, rubbing his fore head.
Megan exited the elevator first and rang the doorbell, daring Nappa with her eyes to ring it again. He hung back about five feet behind her. Then Katelyn Moore answered the door, tissues in hand. Her green eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Her resemblance to Shannon was startling. They shared similar height, body type, coloring. Both wore their hair parted on the same side.
âKatelyn Moore? Iâm Detective McGinn, and this is my partner, Detective Nappa.â
âYes, please come in. Call me Kate.â She fought back tears, attempting the usual social graces. Kate motioned for them to go into the living room. âIs there anything I can get you? Coffee?â
Both held up their paper cups, signaling they were taken care of.
She gave a meek smile. âRight. Iâm sorry. Iâm a little foggy this morning. Itâs been a long night since I got the news about Shannon.â
âThatâs to be expected,â Megan said.
Megan took a look around the exceptionally sparse apartment. Boxes lined the floor leading to the sofa, and a bundle of Bubble Wrap lay in the corner. The coffee table had the protective cardboard around the corners. Three large garment boxes were on one side of the room.
âIâm sorry itâs such a mess. Please have a seat.â Kate moved newspapers and moved boxes off the couch. She positioned herself on one of the boxes to face them.
âIn or out?â Nappa asked.
âJust moved in. We havenât gotten a chance to unpack
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