Chapter 11: Not Derrick

Abigail's POV

Nolan stood in my doorway with rain on his shoulders and bad news on his face.

"The detective told me not to tell you," he said. "I'm telling you."

"Come in."

He sat at my kitchen table and told me.

The doorbell camera across the street. Derrick, Dane and Brody arriving at ten, staying until after one.

The SUV leaving the driveway at 11:20.

Coming back at 11:51.

"Not Derrick," I said.

"No."

"Not Dane. Not Brody."

"Only one other person lives in that house."

I got a pen and the back of an envelope, and I did what I do for a living.

Eleven twenty, the SUV leaves.

Eleven thirty-six, it hits me at the intersection.

Eleven forty-one, my first call connects, and somebody holds the phone against an ear and listens.

Eleven fifty-one, the SUV is back in the driveway.

Then three men's phones, the second, the third, the fourth, and three rejections.

I looked at the page.

I had written it in a column.

Every line of it led to a twenty-year-old in a pink coat.

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