She was tired, but it was still too early to go to bed, and her mind was in turmoil. Had it only been yesterday that Willy’s body had been discovered? It seemed like days ago . . . It gave her some satisfaction to know that Uncle Aaron was back with his family tonight, not sleeping in a police station cell. But she couldn’t help wondering how long he would remain with them. Equally scary was the thought that a killer was walking free somewhere . . . a monster who held human life so cheaply that he could commit murder and then bury his victim with as little hesitation as a dog burying an old bone. Rachel retrieved her laptop from the office and carried it and a tray with apple juice, a tangerine, and a ham biscuit up to her apartment. As she climbed the stairs, she saw that her remaining guest’s door, off the second-floor hallway, was closed. There was a sliver of light seeping under the door, and she could hear the murmur of canned laughter from the television. She continued up another flight of stairs to her apartment.
